A realm of infinite blackness. Boundless. Silent. The nothingness spread into an eternity beyond understanding, a place devoid of light, sound, or feeling. Consciousness drifted free, a faint wisp in the cosmic gloom.

  Far removed, a body twitched, convulsed, caught in metamorphosis. Hunger and creation, locked in a timeless struggle. But in this void, there was no conflict, no pain, only the quiet immensity of forever.

  “Did I open my eyes?” Kor wondered. “Is this darkness the unvarnished truth of creation, stripped of all artifice? Or is it merely the absence of vision—a void that mirrors the emptiness within?”

  Time, if it existed, flowed differently here. Abstract, unmeasurable. Yet, something thrummed at the core of this nothing, a faint, flickering spark of being. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a change rippled through the void. Distant echoes of pain, the ghost of a connection to a physical form, intruded upon the nothingness. The sensations faded, then returned, stronger, like a tide drawing closer with each wave.

  Awareness, sharp and unwelcome. Different. The word unfurled like a stark banner. The essence of his magic, the wellspring of his creations, was irrevocably changed, its depths foreign, uncharted.

  From this darkened corner, this small refuge within the vastness of his own mind, a tremor of fear coursed through him. The sensations of this new self, raw and overwhelming, seeped through the cracks of his mental fortifications.

  His fragile body stretched taut, pushed to the very precipice of destruction. It was still far too soon to contain the forces raging within. A faint pulse resonated through him, a desperate struggle against an unseen force. Lentus’s presence flickered, weak and strained, like a candle in a storm.

  Entropy, the relentless law of decay, pressed in, a new contender in the silent battle against the eternal forces warring within. The conceptual weight of these forces, Hunger and Creation, repelled. A tenuous space hollowed out for him, a fragile sanctuary within the void.

  More sensations flooded in, a torrent of agony accompanying them, sharp and insistent. Something reached out, a lifeline in the darkness, pulling, drawing him back towards a reality he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

  Kor’s eyes snapped open. Pain burned, raw and consuming. He choked. The air, thick and stinging, scraped at his throat, an acrid smell. White. Blinding white, then a throbbing pressure behind his right eye. Rough fabric scraped his exposed skin. A yielding softness cradled him, yet something felt wrong. A humming, shimmering silver surrounded him, a dome of light pressing close.

  A familiar weight settled around his neck. Lentus. His right hand, feeling strangely distant, rose to brush against the dark scales. The touch felt… off, disconnected. He registered the faint, slow rhythm of Lentus’s breathing, the dormant connection between them still present, though the magical energy from his familiar was the lowest he’d ever sensed.

  Why was his hand so cold? The thought pricked at the edge of the pain as he glanced down.

  Gaunt, almost skeletal up to the elbow, skin stretched, blackened and taut over bone. A sickening jolt pulsed through him. Dark violet veins beat beneath the surface, cracks of void-light deepening and throbbing. A cold, desperate energy emanated from it, a palpable emptiness.

  Revulsion warred with a sickening certainty: this was his. Alien, terrifying, yet bound to him, a part of his very being. He flexed the stiff, unnatural fingers. Cold. Empty. Was this a permanent change? Was it the only change? A tremor ripped through his frame.

  A shadow fell across the divider. The faint rustle of robes, then the soft hiss of the divider sliding back. Professor Oak.

  “Awake at last?” Oak’s steel-grey eyes held relief, though his voice remained gruff. He stayed at the barrier’s edge. “Any lingering pain, lad? We cast several healing spells to repair the damage.”

  Kor struggled to focus, pushing past the haze of pain and the chilling cold radiating from his altered arm. Words wouldn’t come. This was his new reality, the price of... He met Oak’s gaze.

  The professor’s steady look faltered, almost imperceptibly. A muscle in his jaw tightened, the barest hint of a recoil before his expression smoothed back into its usual impassivity. “If you get yourself a glove, lad, likely no one will even notice.”

  He managed a weak smile. “Right. A glove.”

  He was alive. Battered, deformed, and in agony, but alive. The thought was a fragile spark. His gaze shifted, settling on Oak, and disorientation struck again. Vision impossibly clear. Sharper than ever. But more than that. He saw the power flowing through Oak, lines of energy shimmering beneath his skin, a vibrant, pulsing aura. A siren song to the gnawing emptiness in his hand, to the ever-present Hunger.

  Oak interrupted, his voice drawing him back. “One other thing, lad. Noticed anything… different… about your eyes?”

  As if on cue, a prickling itch intensified behind his right eye. He reached up to adjust his glasses, but wasn’t wearing any. The world swam back into hyper-focus. “Did… did you heal my sight, Oak? I thought you weren’t capable of it…”

  A short, humourless laugh escaped Oak. “Hah. No, lad. I’d be off living the life of luxury if I could do that. Glad at least that you’ve got something out of the experience.” A foreboding hint laced his tone as he moved away, returning a moment later with a small hand mirror. He held it up, forcing Kor’s reflection upon him.

  The face that stared back was almost gaunt, his once-chubby visage replaced by a lean, sharper jawline. But it was the eye that stole his breath. The iris, a deep, unnatural violet, the colour of the void itself, pulsing with an inner light. Unsettling. Terrifying. A bottomless abyss.

  “By the Void,” the oath escaped him.

  Oak nodded, sombre. “That about sums it up, lad. Perhaps don’t stare too hard at people. That eye has a certain… hunger about it.” An uncanny observation on the nature of his change.

  He clenched his void-arm into a fist, swallowing hard. A tentative look up at Oak. “I don’t suppose there is…”

  “No, lad. Whatever you’ve done. That’s a part of you now. Nothing short of a world treasure will change that.”

  Kor nodded, slow, heavy. Acceptance, bitter but necessary. A long moment of silence.

  “I didn’t cause any other problems, did I?” He stared now at the barrier separating him from the world.

  Oak barked a laugh, sharp and amused. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. You’ve been unconscious for almost a week now. You’re going to need to focus on controlling whatever it is you’ve done to yourself.”

  A week! The realisation hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. Time, his most precious resource, had been bled away, and the duel with Darius loomed like an executioner’s axe. He had to practise! Every wasted moment here was another advantage for Darius. Both his and Marcus’s futures were riding on this. He wrestled against the heavy blankets, a desperate need to move, to act, warring with the leaden weight of his limbs. He made to push himself up, to swing his legs over the side, but Oak raised a hand, palm out.

  “Hold it. Wait till you’ve got some food first, else you’re liable to collapse.”

  He wanted to argue, to demand to be allowed to train, but another wave of pain, this time from his ribs, silenced him. His body was in no condition to fight, not yet. He was no use like this.

  Oak’s voice softened, a subtle shift. “Been quite the parade through here while you were out. Had a gaggle of your friends stopping by every day, boys and girls, all fretting over you. Didn’t think you had it in you, lad, to be so popular.” He gave a short, dry huff of amusement. “Looked worried sick, the lot of them. Your Verdanian roommate even brought a potted plant.” A ghost of a smile touched Oak’s lips. “This is no place for plants.”

  Talen. Did they see the arm?

  Oak’s gaze was knowing. “They did. And none of them ran screaming, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  A shaky exhale. The knot in his chest loosened a fraction as his shoulders relaxed. He dipped his head in a single, deliberate nod. At least that was something.

  Getting acclimated to the changes was going to take time. The biting cold from his hand, his newly sharpened vision, the burning from his eye… Wait. His body... was it lighter? He frowned, pulling up the loose infirmary gown.

  Practically gone. The rolls of fat that had clung to his frame had pulled back, leaving behind a… hint of softness, a kind of skinny-fat physique, but undeniably changed.

  Oak chuckled, a low rumble. “Aye, you’re not so chubby anymore.” Heat rushed to Kor’s cheeks.

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  “When Yue brought you in, your powers were running rampant. Took three of us to hold you down, and whatever you were doing cut through our restraints like a hot knife through butter. I’d ask more, but I can see by your signet you’ve joined the Tome-Wardens. She warned me off probing, but even so, those void-like powers are going to draw attention.”

  “Is it that obvious?” Kor whispered.

  “If you can hide the arm… Just don’t get into any staring contests and—Yeah, you’re still going to stick out like a sore thumb, lad. One violet eye, one normal? Seemingly out of nowhere.”

  He slumped, a weary nod.

  “Ether’s lot always seem to have a screw loose. And judging by your actions, lad, it seems as if you’re a perfect fit.”

  “I thought I was learning a meditation technique... I think I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

  “You can say that again. When you feel like moving again, and perhaps only once your snake is awake again, I’ll let you out of that space.” He rapped a knuckle against the shimmering barrier, a sharp, metallic sound.

  “So the barrier is to keep me in,” he managed a weak grin.

  “And the mana out,” Oak confirmed. “If it wasn’t for your companion...” He trailed off, shaking his head once more.

  A low growl, deep and visceral, erupted from Kor’s stomach, a primal cry of need that resonated through every cell. He hungered.

  “I’ll fetch you something. Just rest up for now, lad.”

  Kor nodded, sinking back against the pillows, his stomach clenching, a hollow ache that echoed the emptiness within. What were his friends going to make of him now?

  Later, after a nap that brought more exhaustion than rest, he found himself standing. Lentus stirred, a slow uncoiling around his neck as he eased into his student robes. The fabric felt strange against his skin, the altered arm a constant, cold presence. He paused, one hand hovering over the sleeve, then slowly, deliberately, pulled it down, concealing the blackened skin. Professor Oak watched from a distance, arms crossed, a silent, unreadable presence.

  “Are you alright, Lentus? I—”

  “Fine, Kor.” A sense of detached appraisal filtered through their connection. Lentus shifted, a subtle tightening of scales around Kor’s neck, then a slow release. “Maintaining the balance within your body was taxing.”

  “If it wasn’t for your aid, Lentus, I wouldn’t have made it, would I?”

  “I can’t say for sure, Kor. But what’s done is done. Focus now on understanding yourself, the changes wrought.”

  “It’s more than I bargained for, Lentus. The Hunger it’s a part of me now. Even this arm, my eyes.” Kor shuddered. “But why does it feel its power feel so… weak, Lentus?”

  “That’s because you’re entirely out of mana, cut off from it. The Hunger feeds on it, needs it. As soon as we depart this barrier, you need to be ready for whatever may come.”

  Even within his little bubble, supposedly devoid of mana, his altered arm throbbed, a phantom ache that intensified when he looked at his student badge and robes. Even weakened as it was, the power sought the only source of mana available to it. That would have to end.

  His jaw clenched, his breath catching in his chest. A knot of tension tightened in his stomach, his fingers twitching at his sides. He swallowed, a dry, nervous click in his throat. “I’m ready when you are, Lentus.”

  A wave of agreement, a silent affirmation, washed over him from the serpent coiled around his neck.

  He lifted his chin, forcing the words out. “I… I think I’m ready to leave now, Professor.” His voice, surprisingly steady, cut through the silence.

  Oak grunted in response, moving forward with a measured step. He reached down, his fingers deftly manipulating a small, metallic device at the edge of the shimmering barrier. With a faint hum, the barrier collapsed, dissolving into nothingness. Oak stepped back a few paces, his eyes narrowed.

  The transformation began as a mere tingle along his veins—a delicate warmth unfurling through his limbs before coalescing in his core. Gradually, his entire body hummed with a newfound intensity, as if he were becoming a living conduit for mana. The surrounding air shimmered subtly, then thickened and trembled, drawn inexorably towards him by an unseen, magnetic pull.

  His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat. He tried to retract, to resist the relentless tide of energy, yet his hands met only the emptiness of air. With every shallow gasp, he felt the force intensify—a miniature vortex swirling at his centre. “Lentus,” he gasped, his communication laced with alarm, “what is happening?”

  “You know as well as I, the Hunger. You’ll have to work out how to control it.”

  His breath quickened, and a cold sweat slicked his palms. Mana poured into him, as if he were a vortex of need. He snapped his eyes shut, trying to rein in the compulsive pull. That, however, was simply not possible. The need could not be denied, and it continued to grow stronger by the moment.

  He couldn’t just walk around like this! Even now it was draining mana from his student robes and badge! “Can’t you just entropy it away?”

  Lentus sighed, a mental exhalation of weary resignation. “Yes, but only for a short while, Kor. You need to control it, or direct it somehow.”

  A wash of cool entropic energy surged from Lentus, blanketing the grasping maelstrom that had built within him. It quelled the intensity but didn’t extinguish it entirely. Now, he resembled nothing more than a student deeply engrossed in meditation, drawing in mana at a controlled pace.

  His shoulders slumped.

  Oak grunted, a sound of grudging approval. “Well, that will do for now. But be warned, lad. The Voidguard are more sensitive to… irregularities. Your current state is going to be like a beacon to them. Best keep a low profile.”

  Kor’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think they’ll attack me on sight, do you?”

  “No. Yue was meant to speak with them already. Just don’t do anything stupid.” Oak’s gaze was firm, leaving no room for argument.

  He nodded, a quick, nervous gesture.

  Oak gave a curt nod. “Right. Now get out of here, can’t have you disturbing the others.”

  Kor scanned the room, finding only a row of empty beds. Oak raised a sardonic eyebrow.

  He raised his arms in surrender, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Got it! Thanks for the help, Professor.” He quickly departed, stepping out into an overcast day, rain lightly drumming against the golden barrier far above the campus.

  “No time for dawdling, Kor.”

  “Right!” he replied, urgency spurring him towards the practice fields. “But will it be safe around others?”

  “You’ll be fine whilst I maintain control.”

  Mana swirled around him like moths to a flickering flame, drawn inexorably inward. Taking care not to uncover his hidden arm, Kor sought a secluded corner of the field, making his way to his favourite old tree. With a quick glance around to ensure he was alone, Kor took a seat in the darkened shade. It was time to explore what he’d wrought upon himself.

  Mana depleted, he focused inward, to the greedy thrum that pulsed through him. The Hunger, a demanding presence, throbbed in sync with his burning eye. Every fibre of his being yearned for mana; the flow, stemmed by Lentus, simply insufficient. With a throb of pain from his void-touched eye, the world shimmered, revealing intricate patterns of magic.

  The grass beneath pulsed with previously imperceptible enchantments; the air danced with ethereal vibrations. In the distance, spells rippled through the fabric of reality—students duelling. A sudden lightning discharge slammed against a barrier; the scent of ozone filled the air, metallic and sharp on his tongue.

  His hand twitched from underneath his sleeve, a phantom tugging, yearning to be unleashed. He had to master this Hunger, to truly become one with it. He couldn’t afford to let it dominate him. His robes and badge would not last long if he did not learn to restrain the consuming force.

  A knot of tension tightened his stomach. This gnawing vortex, only partly restrained by Lentus, was now his sole conduit for mana. The old ways were gone forever.

  Inhaling deeply, he focused on that internal tug. The Hunger was a part of him now—and he would learn to accept it without surrender. His heightened senses latched onto the intricate energies of his student robes and badge, their aura shining with stark clarity.

  His lips twitched. He focused, willing the consuming aura to bypass what he wished to protect, carefully diverting stray currents of mana like offering scraps to a ravenous beast. Awareness of the Hunger grew as it continued to pull the energy in. It would never stop consuming, its insatiable need an inalienable truth. He was now bound to the duality of consumption and creation.

  As long as there was ample ambient mana, training it—training himself to ignore the potential targets—seemed possible. Slowly, the entropy Lentus had woven thinned, and the swirling vortex grew turbulent, insistent, drawing in more mana with each passing moment. Some small measure of warmth seeped into his arm as the wellspring of his mana refilled.

  With a quick glance about to ensure nobody else could see, he pushed his hand back out from the sleeve of his robe. Still darkened and black, but the gauntness, and the pain, continued to ease. The mana provided a balm.

  However, there was something else that welled up within. An instinctual understanding. His hand, it was a conduit to the hunger, his means to utilising it. He spread his fingers, feeling the need to consume swell within his void-touched arm.

  His heart quickened. The world seemed to slow as he reached out, tapping into the need that swelled within his arm. He swiped his hand forward, a wraithlike projection of violet energy extending outward. A ghost-hand, ephemeral yet potent, tore through the air.

  For the briefest of moments, all was devoured. A surge of mana pulsed through his arm and into his core.

  “Seems like the power can do more than vex you, Kor. That technique might work even on spells.” Lentus’ amusement held an element of curiosity, so unlike his normal disposition..

  “I think you are right… Though I’ll need to find somebody to test it with in secret. This could be just the edge I need.”

  But when he reached for the technique again, he found it unresponsive. His hand had lost much of its gauntness; the violet veins were less prominent. It wasn’t ready. It didn’t feel… hungry enough.

  Did that mean the technique required him to be low on mana to use it? He’d need to do more testing when it was ready again. Still, he needed to test the changes to his other spells now that he had some mana back.

  With a deep breath, he visualised the seed of his fractal barrier, but there was a dissonance. The elegant snowflake that had once been his defence now felt incomplete, flawed—a once pristine structure that, to his newfound sight, held weaknesses. A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. Still, he summoned the interlocking design.

  Even as he maintained the barrier, his mana continued to regenerate, feeding the inner vortex. The possibilities...

  Maintaining the barrier, he reached for the seed of his fractal bomb. A wave of unease, sharp and instinctive, washed over him, a conflict between yearning and caution. He hungered to see what this new creation had become, yet warnings, sharp and insistent, echoed in his mind—these constructs were too dangerous to unleash in his current state. Testing his offensive spells would have to wait for a proper training room.

  As the barrier’s recursion deepened—a symphony of power solidifying the construct—the pull on his mana intensified, rivalling the devouring Hunger within. Kor rose, mesmerised, the barrier pulsing with an almost sentient energy. The more he embraced these changes, the more his mind expanded, unfolding like a vast, uncharted territory. New designs, previously unimaginable, bloomed in his thoughts, new methods to wield his magic taking root.

  And with the sheer amount of mana that he restored, this opened up more options than he’d ever dreamed of!

  His eyes widened, a wild, slightly manic grin spreading across his face. Yes. This was a breakthrough. A final, exhilarating thought surfaced as he considered the dizzying possibilities… More powerful designs, greater sensitivity, a barrier that could be sustained indefinitely... He laughed, a high, sharp sound that cut across the field.

  Perhaps even flight was possible! Once a distant dream, demanding near-impossible levels of control and vast reserves of mana, it now seemed… within reach. The limitations he once knew were dissolving, replaced by a thrilling, boundless potential.