The Hunger, which had previously throbbed with a demanding, almost frantic energy during his meditation practice, now lay dormant within him, a coiled serpent feigning sleep. This newfound docility, considering Ether’s revelations about its Voidling origins, was far more terrifying than its previous aggression. A prickling unease crawled beneath his skin. Something big was coming. He could feel it, a pressure building in the air, a tightening in his gut. And he needed to be ready.

  Kor cursed under his breath, the sound echoing in the near-empty corridor as he burst outside. He’d cut it very close. Lentus, draped around his neck, was a dead weight – a testament to the intensity of his efforts removing the growths from Ether’s… from the Heart. The little serpent had practically drained himself for the better part of the morning, and Kor was now dangerously late for his shift at Terra’s lab.

  He sprinted along the stone pathways, his robes billowing behind him. Students scattered like startled pigeons, their whispers and curious glances following his hurried passage. He ignored them, his focus narrowed to a single point: get to the lab. Lentus remained inert, an uncharacteristic stillness that mirrored the unsettling quiet within Kor’s own magic.

  His heart hammered against his ribs as he reached the spire’s elevator, throwing himself inside just as the doors slid shut. He willed the ascent to be swifter. The doors opened with a hiss and he stumbled out, crashing into a small gaggle of first-year students. He flushed crimson. Terra’s eyebrow quirked upwards, her gaze flicking to him before she turned back to address the group. He drew in several deep, calming breaths, trying to regain his composure.

  “You’ve got your assignments. Show me what you can do!” Terra’s voice boomed across the room. The first-years scattered. A gold-trimmed robe flashed, a third year, efficiently directing the flow of students.

  Kor approached Terra, forcing a grin. “Hectic morning.” Lena, already present, sidled closer, a smirk playing on her lips.

  Terra turned, her fiery hair a vibrant halo around her head. The same knowing smirk mirrored Lena’s. “Cutting it close, Kor.” Her gaze flicked to Lena. “At least one of you managed punctuality.”

  “Hey, I made it!” He jabbed a thumb towards the distant clock, a defensive edge to his voice. Terra’s smirk only widened.

  He scowled, then shifted his approach, injecting a hopeful note into his voice. “So, when do we get to be official mentees, Terra? Terrak said he wanted to take me for his own if you weren’t going to…” He let the implication hang in the air.

  Terra’s eyebrows shot up, her hair glowing brighter for a moment, like embers catching a sudden breeze. She burst into laughter, a hearty sound that drew a few curious glances from the other students meticulously arranging crystals on their workstations.

  “He said that, did he? Well...” A playful smirk danced on her lips. “I already chose Lena as my first mentee earlier this week.” She paused, her gaze flicking between Kor and Lena. “But I suppose I can take you on as well, Kor. Wouldn’t want Terrak to get any bright ideas.”

  “Really?” Kor’s grin widened. “Fantastic!” He playfully nudged Lena with his elbow. “Congratulations! Though I can’t believe you beat me to it...”

  Lena’s face lit up, a brilliant smile spreading across her features. Her long, dark hair swayed as she turned to him, her violet eyes sparkling with delight. “Thanks, Kor,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. She playfully nudged him back. “Feels good to have come first, just this once.”

  “Does this mean a paycheck, Terra?” Kor asked, his eyes gleaming with mock greed.

  “Hold your hippogriffs, Kor,” Terra chuckled, shaking her head. “But yes, if you prove yourselves useful.” She gestured around the bustling lab. “A mentee’s job is to uphold their professor’s reputation. Your achievements reflect on me. Plus,” she lowered her voice, “there are certain… opportunities that only students can access.”

  Kor leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his interest piqued. Even Lena, usually more reserved, shifted closer, her curiosity clear in the slight tilt of her head.

  Terra’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The First Magus’s expedition was just a taste. Conflux City relies on resources gathered from across the planet. Second and third-years spend much of their time on expeditions, acquiring these materials under the guidance of professors or senior students.”

  Lena’s brow furrowed. “But isn’t that dangerous?”

  “It has its risks,” Terra conceded, “but anywhere within fifty miles of the city is well-charted territory. Besides,” she said, a wry smile playing on her lips, “Conflux City was built on a low-magic area for a reason. Nowhere on Conflux is truly low magic, though this area has fewer dangerous creatures, and the environment is far less hostile.”

  “But wouldn’t stronger magic mean better resources?” Kor asked.

  “Theoretically, yes,” Terra agreed, “but such places are practically uninhabitable. The city’s Nexus barrier would crumble under that kind of power. Even the weaker manastorms can pack a wallop.” She waved a dismissive hand. “As your mentor, I’ll be taking you two on some of these expeditions. The more students I bring, the more we can keep—payment for real-world experience, you see.” A grin spread across her face.

  “Speaking of expeditions,” Kor interjected, “couldn’t we just use those tuning forks to find the materials? Like on the First Magus’s test?”

  Terra shook her head, her fiery hair swaying. “Too noisy. They’re like a beacon to anything powerful within a mile. Besides, those were specially calibrated for the test.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

  “The most potent magical creatures learn to hide their presence. It’s not just about stopping spellcasting; it’s about minimising your own mana signature, making yourself less noticeable in the flow of natural magic. Think of it like this,” she paused, searching for an analogy. “you need to learn how to spot a ripple in a pond before you can learn how to stop making ripples yourself. Walking around the wilds without an active barrier is a death wish, so you need to conceal yourselves. First, though, sensitivity training.”

  “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Lena asked, her voice eager.

  “Exactly that,” Terra declared, clapping her hands together. “Let’s see if you can learn how to feel those ripples. To pierce the veils!”

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  Kor and Lena exchanged an eager glance, a silent conversation passing between them. A slight bump of shoulders, a shared grin, their eyes sparkling with anticipation. They were ready for the challenge.

  The afternoon stretched on, a frustrating dance with the unseen. Blindfolded in the centre of the room, the soft fabric a barrier against sight, Kor focused on amplifying his other senses. Lena’s quiet, even breaths beside him were a stark counterpoint to the tightening knot of his own frustration. Terra had placed four veiled objects within the room, and finding them was proving far more challenging than expected.

  He’d initially tried to brute-force it, imagining each object as a blazing beacon, a clear signal he could pinpoint. But that approach had yielded nothing but a frustrating emptiness. The first object, he recalled, had been easy. His trained sensitivity had allowed him to see through the veil. However, this one was different. This required finesse.

  Kor inhaled deeply, then exhaled, consciously releasing the tension in his shoulders. He needed a new tactic. Terra had emphasised sensing the disruption, the subtle shift in the ambient mana, not the object itself. He closed his eyes beneath the blindfold, a double layer of darkness, and forced himself to relax. He let go of his targeted search, instead sinking inwards, expanding his awareness beyond his physical form, attuning himself to the room’s subtle energies.

  Slowly, the ambient mana flow revealed itself, a gentle, almost imperceptible current, like the quiet breathing of a slumbering giant. He traced its subtle eddies and swirls, searching not for a source, but for a disturbance, a dissonance in the harmonious hum.

  Time blurred. Minutes stretched, each one a test of his patience. His awareness expanded, encompassing the room – a vast, unseen landscape of flowing energy. Then a flicker. A subtle shift in the current, a barely perceptible distortion, like a tiny snag in a finely woven fabric.

  His senses sharpened, honing in on the anomaly. It emanated from near the far wall, close to the old oak desk. His pulse quickened, a subtle thrum against the quiet.

  His eyes snapped open beneath the blindfold, though darkness remained his only companion. He moved towards the desk, guided by the almost imperceptible pull of the disrupted mana. His hand brushed an unseen surface. A faint shimmer, like heat haze, outlined a small, intricately carved box. He’d found it – not by seeing, not by directly sensing its magic, but by feeling the subtle warp it created in the surrounding space, the ripple in the otherwise smooth flow.

  “There,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “Found it.” He removed his blindfold, blinking against the light, his gaze fixed on the box, now faintly visible, a ghost of an object.

  Lena removed her own blindfold, a playful glint in her violet eyes replacing any trace of awe. “Alright, show off. How’d you manage that?” A hint of competitive curiosity, perhaps even a touch of jealousy, coloured her tone.

  Kor explained, “It’s not about finding the object. It’s about feeling how the veil warps the space around it. You can’t look directly; you have to sense the… distortion.”

  Lena nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Right, the distortion...” She replaced her blindfold. “Okay, hide it again for me. Let’s see if I can get the hang of this.”

  As Kor carefully concealed the box beneath a stack of books on a nearby shelf, a thought struck him. Four objects. Terra had said there were four. He’d found one easily, then this one with difficulty. Two more remained. And knowing Terra, they wouldn’t be found through any ordinary means. A weary sigh escaped him. This was going to be a very long afternoon.

  The lingering buzz of displaced mana still clung to him, a phantom echo of the afternoon’s intense training. Kor wound his way towards Marcus’s dorm, the familiar weight of Lentus around his neck a small, grounding presence. Might as well get used to it, he thought wryly. The way things are going, he’ll be a permanent fixture.

  He’d managed, after an agonizing struggle, to pinpoint the third veiled object just as Terra called time. A small, intricately carved bird hidden within the hollow of a decorative tree stump. But the fourth? That remained stubbornly, frustratingly elusive. Not even the faintest ripple in the ambient mana had betrayed its location. It was as if it didn’t exist, a void within a void.

  Shaking off the lingering frustration, Kor continued down the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly. He reached Marcus’s door and knocked. The door swung open immediately. Marcus stood there, a halo of late afternoon sun catching the golden strands of his hair. His grin, wide and welcoming, crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Kor!” He stepped aside, gesturing him in. “Tried your room earlier. Door was locked, no answer.”

  “Right. Sorry about that,” Kor said, stepping inside as Marcus gestured him in. “Been stuck in Terra’s lab all afternoon.” He ran a hand through his own tied-back hair, feeling self-conscious next to his always-put-together friend. They settled down at a sturdy oak table, its surface worn smooth from years of use.

  Marcus’s usual charm seemed muted, his bright blue eyes clouded with worry. “Terrak’s cut our training, Kor,” he said, the words blunt and heavy.

  Kor blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

  Marcus gave a wry, humourless smile. “Officially? He’s swamped. Classes merging and an increased need to patrol against Voidling. All excuses.” He leaned back, his gaze drifting towards the window. “He’s lost patience. Says I’m not progressing fast enough.”

  Kor’s bookish face scrunched up in indignation. “But that’s not your fault. Darius is to blame for your current problems. Can’t Terrak do anything?”

  Marcus’ voice was flat. “‘If you can’t help yourself, why should I?’”

  Kor muttered, frowning. “That’s harsh.”

  A hint of self-directed anger coloured Marcus’ voice. “It’s true, though. This is my problem. I need to fix it.”

  Kor leaned forward, his mind already racing. “But how? How do we get you back on track?”

  The name was a heavy weight in the small room. “Darius. I need to bargain with him. See what he’ll take to undo Laylee’s magic.”

  Kor’s brow furrowed. “Do you even have anything he wants?”

  Marcus’s expression turned grim. “Not much. But I’m not exactly in a position to be picky. I expect he’ll want another servant, maybe even try to make it permanent. Those Solarian royals love their magical contracts.”

  “And Dean Velleth will be involved, no doubt,” Kor said, his voice laced with concern. “He’s a Solarian himself. I doubt Darius will make a deal without him.”

  “Right,” Marcus confirmed with a sigh. “And Velleth specialises in contract magic. Nasty stuff, from what I hear. They say he’s bound other mages to him, even some kind of powerful entities. Like a summoner, but with contracts instead of circles.”

  Kor shivered, remembering his own unsettling encounters with the Dean. “So, Darius could basically force you to do anything, as long as it’s in the contract?”

  “Theoretically,” Marcus said, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “But only if I agree to the terms. And if I break them...” He trailed off, his bright blue eyes going dark for a moment. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.” He ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence momentarily faltering.

  “Look, I know this is a long shot, but time is running out. Each day I grow weaker, and now it seems like there’s nothing left to do but bargain.”

  A pang of sorrow went through Kor. He saw the ghost of Marcus’s old ambition, the fire that had once burned so brightly when they’d first arrived, talking of taking the academy by storm. Now, that fire seemed dimmed, replaced by a weary resignation.

  Reaching out, he placed a hand on Marcus’s arm. “I’m sorry, Marcus. Whatever you need, I’m there for you.”

  Marcus’ hand tightened on the arm of his chair, his knuckles bone-white, before he turned to Kor, a semblance of his old determination returning. “I’ve already set up a meeting with Darius tomorrow,” he said. “Beth’s coming too, insisted she had to be there.”

  Kor straightened up. “Then I’m coming too. We’ll face him together. Maybe we can find another way, something else to offer.”

  Marcus managed a small smile, clapping Kor on the shoulder. “Thanks, Kor. You’re a good friend.” He paused, a glint of his usual confidence returning. “But I might just be able to bluff my way through this,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Always been good at talking my way out of trouble.”

  “Right,” Kor said, grinning back, feeling a surge of hope. “Tomorrow, then. What time are we meeting?”