Kor stood at the Spire Alpha’s peak, a day removed from the chaos. Below, Conflux Academy sprawled – crystalline spires, countless fields, and buildings that housed thousands of students, a miniature world unto itself. The other spires of campus, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and finally Epsilon, rose in descending order, each a smaller echo of Alpha’s towering presence. From this height, students and professors were mere specks, indistinguishable in their bustling routines hundreds of yards below.

  He turned, gaze sweeping over Conflux City, a walled metropolis distinct from the academic grounds. A chaotic, captivating jumble of buildings stretched out before him, more numerous than he could count, dwarfing even the sprawling academy. Tens of thousands made their homes within the city walls, amidst a captivating blend of crystalline structures and buildings shimmering with arcane magic.

  Once I graduate... if I graduate... Would he find a home in that city? Would Ether’s contract chain him to the archives? The future was a murky, uncertain thing. Even now, the Void’s presence was a subtle pressure against his senses, a growing tension across the campus, an omen of impending danger.

  The Nexus, the city’s central spire, was the only building to surpass Spire Alpha in height. Kor watched as its normally subtle barrier flared a brilliant gold, holding back the fury of the mana-storm. But the ominous purple staining the spire itself cast a long shadow, a harbinger of darker things to come.

  Turning back towards the campus, Kor took in the unexpected sight of the spire’s open-topped garden. He’d never realised that at the peak of each spire were open topped gardens. I’ve finally made it to the top, he thought, a wry shake of his head. Not like this. Not locked away, awaiting the judgement of the Academy Council. The First Magus had plans for him, one of only two spellcasters in history to wield the Void’s power.

  The power whispered through his veins, a constant hum feeding the Hunger within. Learning the Hunger technique had been a trial; now it felt like he had leaped from a simmering pot directly into the flames.

  Lentus shifted around his neck and Kor reached up, fingers brushing absently against his companion’s scales.

  “You were more ambitious than even I anticipated, Kor,” Lentus’s thought brushed against his mind.

  “Well, you did want me to get stronger,” Kor replied, a touch of humour in his mental tone.

  “Yes, you’ve done well, but...”

  “Perhaps I’ve learnt enough dangerous magic for the time being?”

  “Exactly.”

  A shared moment of understanding passed between them, surrounded by the lush, exotic flora and the heady rush of mana that permeated the spire-top garden. With a subtle flick of his wrist, Kor began to weave patterns in the air. Lines of light, sharp as glass but infinitely more delicate, formed and reformed, each a complex equation made visible. It was a routine by now, almost meditative. His mana reserves were full, but the Hunger, a constant companion, required this careful, precise expenditure to prevent it from overflowing its bounds.

  “You’ve never really told me about the other companions, Lentus. Why you chose each of us, how you chose us... There’s just so much I don’t know.”

  A pensive stillness settled over the entropy serpent coiled around his neck.

  “Our origins... My siblings and I...” Lentus fell silent again. Only the gentle susurrus of the air through the foliage and Kor’s quiet, focused breathing filled the space.

  “Before the founding of Conflux, before even the first portals were opened in the distant past, there was the First Magus, the origin of the title. The first man to truly grasp the threads of magic, to weave them for his own.”

  “His understanding of magic, his power, were unlike any that came before. Deep and vast, like a world unto himself. None of us know from whence he came; even these recollections are pieced together from each of us.”

  “Pieced together?”

  “Yes. To each of us, did he give birth, or should I say create? It had grown increasingly hard to keep track. Through each cycle of our reincarnation, each cycle we have been called upon to defend the seven worlds, our memory has faded, sometimes centuries, sometimes millennia, between.”

  “To defend the worlds? From what, Lentus? The Void?”

  “Not just the Void. There have been other threats, other powers. Different dimensions, different entities that inhabit the great spaces between worlds.”

  “This man who created you?”

  A sigh, somehow conveyed without breath, emanated from Lentus. “We do not even know his name, lost to us now. Nor even that he was human. Were he still around now, all would worship him as a god. Mana-blessed, in the truest sense.”

  “I don’t suppose you know what happened to him?”

  “No. Though none of us doubts that he still exists, somewhere. Each of us can still feel the distant thread that binds us to him.” A weariness, tinged with a profound longing, coloured Lentus’s mental voice.

  “I’m sorry, Lentus...”

  “Don’t be, Kor. We’ve got a sacred duty to attend, after all. Once we’ve truly merged, you’ll understand better than I could ever explain.”

  “Merged?”

  “Like the First Magus and his companion have done. One body, two sets of powers.”

  Kor’s breath hitched. His pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

  Lentus continued, “Though, with you, it will be more like three powers. I can’t say that I ever recall such an occurrence in any of my previous lives...”

  Kor was about to speak, to question, to demand answers, when a melodic chime echoed through the air.

  His head snapped towards the sound. Marcus! He’d been granted permission to receive visitors, and now it was time to hand over the Vennulin.

  He moved through the gardens, a vibrant contrast to the spire’s cold, austere interior. He navigated the winding hallways, each step taking him closer to the reception room. Reaching the entrance, the First Magus’ young receptionist sat at a desk, glancing up with a brief nod before returning to her work.

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  Further in, two Voidguard stood sentinel, flanking the elevator, their gazes narrowing as he faced his friends. Beth, her brown hair framing a kind face, her pet fox with its shifting, colourful tail curled up by her side. Marcus was also there, tall and lean, his golden-blonde hair catching the light.

  “Kor!” Beth exclaimed, her voice a rush of excitement. “We all saw your fight...”

  Marcus’s face was alight, his usual carefully composed expression replaced by something raw and genuine. Their eyes met, a silent exchange that conveyed a deep understanding and unspoken support.

  Kor smiled, a genuine, unguarded expression, and gestured for them to follow. He led them back towards his own quarters, moving through the austere hallways of Spire Alpha.

  “I knew you were getting stronger, Kor, but by the stars, that fight was something else,” Marcus said, his voice a low rumble beside him.

  Beth chimed in, “At the end there, you seemed more than a little crazy.”

  He nodded, a rueful glance over his shoulder. “Perhaps I went a bit too far.”

  His room was surprisingly large, dominated by a massive bed and crystalline walls that refracted the light in subtle, shifting patterns. A kind of reserved opulence permeated the space, a sense of regal formality softened by a large, welcoming maple table and chairs. Beth’s fox, its tail a plume of white-tipped, glowing colour that shifted subtly between hues, trotted at her heels, its bright eyes taking in the new surroundings. Beth reached down, fingers stroking the soft fur behind its ears.

  Kor retrieved the Vennulin, its smooth surface cool to the touch. Marcus inhaled sharply, a visible tremor of anticipation running through him.

  “That’s it?” Beth asked, her voice hushed with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

  He nodded, extending the artefact. Marcus reached out, fingers closing around the Vennulin.

  For a moment, Marcus trembled, a barely contained energy vibrating beneath his skin. His stoic facade cracked, revealing a raw vulnerability, a desperate hope flickering in his eyes.

  Another brief, charged look passed between them. Then, a blinding flash erupted as the Vennulin shattered in Marcus’s grip. Fragments of the artefact scattered, glittering like fallen stars.

  A malignant essence, cold and sharp, briefly tainted the air, then dissipated, swept away by a surge of raw power. Marcus’s eyes widened, not with shock, but with a burgeoning light. His aura flared, a visible manifestation of his returning strength, the air around him shimmering with released energy. He drew himself up, not just standing taller, but seeming to expand, his shoulders broadening, his chest lifting. A laugh, unrestrained and triumphant, burst from him, echoing through the room. The energy thrummed through him, visible even without Kor’s enhanced senses, pressing against the very air, a testament to his fully restored, amplified power. A smile, wide and brilliant, split his face.

  Marcus snapped his gaze up, meeting Kor’s. “Thank you, Kor,” he said, his voice solemn and heavy with emotion.

  “You’re welcome, Marcus. Though I hope they’ll leave us alone now...” A tremor of unease, a subtle shift in his posture, betrayed the anxiety lurking beneath Marcus’s triumphant exterior.

  Beth spoke, her voice low, almost a whisper. “Haven’t you heard, Kor?”

  “No?” he asked, tilting his head, a flicker of concern in his violet eye.

  She inhaled, a quick, nervous breath. “Prince Darius is dead.”

  Kor’s breath hitched, not quite a gasp, but a sudden, involuntary intake of air. His hand, resting on the table, clenched, knuckles whitening subtly. He looked down, focusing on the intricate grain of the maple wood, a sudden, intense interest in the swirling patterns. “Oh...” he murmured, the word almost lost in the quiet of the room.

  “From what I’ve heard, the Solarians have all but declared you an enemy of their people.”

  “That’s enough, Beth,” Marcus said gently. Her cheeks flushed, a delicate pink blooming across her skin, and she nodded, falling silent. “I’m calling in every connection I can, Kor, though I don’t have much sway here on Conflux. The Council have called a meeting, pulling in many of the powers from all our homeworlds to attend.”

  “Over the prince’s death?” Kor asked, his voice tight.

  “Not just that. The state of the Voidshard, the threat of the voidlings, and other matters as well.”

  Kor nodded, his gaze dropping to the intricate patterns of the rug beneath his feet, his mind racing.

  “Whatever happens, Kor, I won’t abandon you. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. There is a great debt between us.”

  Kor looked up, meeting his friend’s unwavering gaze. “There is no debt between friends, Marcus.” He extended his arm, and Marcus grasped it, pulling him into a rough, heartfelt embrace. Marcus, still a head and shoulders taller, enveloped him in a brief, powerful hug.

  As they pulled apart, a grin still stretched across Marcus’ face. Kor, shaking his head in disbelief, asked, “Have you actually grown taller?”

  The question hung in the air, a moment of levity in the midst of the storm. They lingered for a while, talking in hushed tones. Marcus spoke about his classes, which had been suspended, and described how the whole campus was buzzing, everyone talking of the void, and the Voidguard were everywhere. Beth’s fox, seemingly oblivious to the tension, curled up at their feet, a comforting weight. Hours slipped by unnoticed, marked only by the shifting light filtering through the crystalline walls. Finally, with a shared understanding that transcended words, they parted ways, leaving Kor alone with the echoes of their conversation and the weight of his uncertain future.

  The next few hours became a blur of brief visitors. Viree arrived first, a whirlwind of motion and breathless compliments, showering him with praise for his “spectacular fight.” Willem followed, his visit a study in contrasts – quiet words of caution delivered in a low, steady voice, a stark difference from Viree’s exuberant energy.

  A message from Lena. Not the visit he’d craved, but news nonetheless. Her parents had witnessed the fight. And now, they wanted to meet him, once his fate was settled. A wave of cautious optimism washed over him. If they’d seen the fight, seen what he was capable of... would his powers sway them? They placed great importance on their tenuous connection to the Void after all.

  He thought of his own parents. A message was due, but the thought of explaining everything... A carefully curated version was the only option. The full, chaotic truth was simply too overwhelming.

  Later that day, Kor trailed behind Talen as they wandered the expansive gardens. The wiry man flitted between exotic blooms like a child on his birthday, amber hair bouncing with each eager step. He’d dart forward, fingers brushing a velvety petal here, nose buried in a fragrant blossom there, a constant stream of “oohs” and “aahs” escaping his lips. The sheer exuberance was infectious, drawing a chuckle from Kor.

  Talen’s grin, wide and bright, flashed back at him. “You don’t think the First Magus would mind if I took a few, do you?”

  “Hah. You’d have to ask him yourself.”

  Talen released a red-petalled flower, the bloom swaying gently as he straightened. “You know, since you’ve been gone, the Morthus has been pining after you each night.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course! It’s even started sucking in energy like a hungry whirlpool, ripping holes in the Void.”

  Kor’s eyes narrowed.

  A smirk played on Talen’s lips. “Only kidding. Though it’s definitely taken some fractal inspiration from you, Kor. Just look at this.” He conjured a new, segmented vine whip, the fractal patterns etched into its surface shimmering faintly. With a flick of his wrist, he cracked it through the air.

  The whip snapped, and a cascade of fractal leaves exploded outwards, dozens upon dozens, each one a miniature, perfect echo of the larger pattern. They punched into the air, a flurry of vibrant green.

  “Not bad, Talen, but what about that ant-like aspect? Surely it manifests in some way?”

  “Funny you should ask, Kor.” Talen’s brow furrowed, a visible surge of power rippling through him. All around him, dozens of ants, each the size of his ankle, materialised. Purple, and possessing a self-symmetry that whispered of their fractal origins, they scuttled across the manicured lawn.

  Kor watched the display, a corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from your mother about what’s happening, Talen?”

  His face fell. The ants froze, then dissolved back into motes of light as he reached into his pack. “Sorry Kor. Everyone is talking about the upcoming meeting, though even mom couldn’t offer any details. I did grab your fractal thingy though.” He proffered a crystal orb, its interior a swirling kaleidoscope of geometric patterns.

  Just as Kor took hold of the orb, his Tome-Warden ring pulsed with an incoming message. Ether.

  “Good work mastering the Hunger, Kor, but you didn’t have to destroy Conflux in the process.”

  Kor repressed a sigh.

  “Hey! I heard that.”

  “Right. What can I do for you, Ether?”

  “No, Kor. I’ll be the one helping you out today. I’ve recalled Andrast; he should be here in time.”

  “In time, for what?”

  “The council meeting, Kor. Not just your fate rests upon it. We’re going to be bringing a special guest...”

  “Like who?”

  A beat of silence, then whispered, “A sentient Voidling.”

  The Voidflame Edict!

  ---Dexter