Four years of conscious existence in this world. Four years carefully applying Earth physics to magic without drawing attention. All undone by a single construct that apparently fulfilled some ancient prophecy.
He extended his hand, reaching for mana. The familiar sensation responded immediately—a network of energy pathways he'd systematically mapped and tested over the years. Blue light coalesced above his palm, forming the dodecahedron with optimized force vectors that had caused yesterday's commotion.
The construct stabilized exactly as designed. Four years of experimentation had taught him that mana didn't follow Earth's physical laws precisely, but with careful observation and adjustment, he'd developed working models that served him well. Until now.
As if triggered by his thoughts, a translucent blue window materialized:
STATUS UPDATE:
- Arcane Efficiency increased by 12%
- New ability unlocked: Advanced Energy Distribution
- Special Title granted: "The Tellian Prospect"
The text faded, replaced by:
[CONGRATULATIONS ON BASIC COGNITIVE FUNCTION, BRAIN-BOX!]
You've successfully remembered YESTERDAY'S EVENTS without catastrophic memory failure!
This impressive feat puts you on par with MOST HIGHER MAMMALS and SOME PARTICULARLY GIFTED VEGETABLES!
ACHIEVEMENT: [AVOIDING GOLDFISH SYNDROME]
REWARD: Enhanced recall of magical theory
(As if MEMORIZING FLAWED THEORIES will help when your PRACTICAL EXECUTION explodes in your FACE!)
A knock at his door.
"Initiate Thorne? Are you awake?" Magister Elwin's voice.
"Yes, Magister." He quickly pulled on the new blue and silver robes—finer than his previous attire. Another marker of his unwanted special status.
The door opened. Magister Elwin stood there, barely containing her excitement beneath a thin veneer of academic detachment.
"Good morning. I trust you slept well in your new quarters?"
"Yes, thank you."
"This must be overwhelming for one so young," she said, her tone softening. "But the Arcane chooses its vessels according to its own wisdom." She gestured toward the corridor. "Come. We'll take breakfast in the Scholar's Atrium before beginning your special instruction."
Stares followed them through the corridors. News traveled fast. He was no longer just the prodigy—he was now the prophecy child.
The Scholar's Atrium was a vast circular space with a domed ceiling of interlocking crystal panels. Floating platforms served as individual dining areas at varying heights.
"Your table will be here," Magister Elwin said, gesturing to a platform that descended to floor level. "Height is adjusted by mana resonance—your platform will respond to your signature."
Liam nodded. Simple mana-sensitive levitation mechanics coupled with biometric recognition. I mapped the principles three years ago.
Food materialized on their plates—fresh bread, fruits, and something resembling oatmeal but shimmering with faint blue light.
"Mana-infused nutrition," the magister explained. "Your new regimen requires higher energy intake."
"What exactly will my special instruction involve?" Liam asked between bites.
"We'll be exploring the limits of your understanding," she replied. "The Archmage believes you may have unique insight into Arcane fundamentals."
I have a physicist's understanding of energy systems, not cosmic secrets.
"I'm not sure I'm as special as everyone seems to think," he said carefully.
"Such modesty," she smiled. "But yesterday's demonstration speaks for itself. The Tellian Configuration isn't something one stumbles upon by accident."
It's just an energy-minimized polyhedron. I spent months perfecting it through trial and error.
After breakfast, they proceeded to a private instruction chamber. Unlike the large classrooms Liam was used to, this room was intimate—perhaps fifteen feet square, with a single workstation in the center. The walls were lined with crystalline panels—mana absorption buffers.
They're expecting me to lose control. That's not encouraging.
"We'll begin with an assessment of your current capabilities," Magister Elwin said, activating a recording crystal. "Please create a standard Third Circle mana construct."
Liam formed the prescribed geometric shape—a complex polyhedron with exactly 27 vertices. After four years of daily practice, this was routine.
"Now, modify it to optimize mana flow while maintaining structural integrity."
This would challenge even senior students. Liam had developed modifications for basic constructs, but never attempted this optimization at the third-circle level.
He applied the principles he'd refined for simpler patterns, carefully adjusting energy vectors. The construct wavered, vertices beginning to destabilize. He frowned, making rapid corrections based on the mana's behavior.
The principles aren't transferring cleanly to this complexity level. The energy distribution is more chaotic than expected.
The construct suddenly collapsed, dissolving into scattered motes of blue light.
"Interesting approach," Magister Elwin noted without disappointment. "You attempted to apply second-circle optimization techniques to a third-circle construct."
"They should have worked," Liam muttered. "The fundamental principles are the same."
"Are they?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "The Academy's Standard Theory holds that each circle of complexity introduces new harmonic patterns that require distinct handling."
Four years studying this system and I'm still discovering its inconsistencies.
"Let me try again," he said, reforming the basic construct.
This time, he observed more carefully as the mana flowed through the structure. He'd learned long ago that Earth physics didn't translate perfectly to Evranth's magical system. Where his initial attempts as a five-year-old had applied pure mathematical models, years of experimentation had taught him to observe and adapt.
The mana currents swirled with subtle rhythms he'd documented extensively in his hidden journals. Rather than forcing predetermined patterns, he made incremental adjustments based on the observed flow, gradually reshaping the construct into a more efficient configuration.
The result looked nothing like what standard Earth physics would predict—asymmetrical and seemingly chaotic, yet measurably more stable than the original.
"Remarkable," Magister Elwin said, studying his creation. "Most students require years to develop the sensitivity to feel the natural harmonics."
I didn't feel anything. I observed, measured, and adjusted based on empirical data.
"Now," she continued, "I'd like you to attempt something more advanced. Have you encountered the Resonance Matrix in your studies?"
Liam shook his head. "It hasn't been covered in the standard curriculum."
"It's typically taught to seventh-year students." She traced patterns in the air, creating a three-dimensional lattice of interconnected energy nodes. "A Resonance Matrix allows multiple practitioners to combine their mana for complex enchantments."
Liam studied the structure. It resembles a quantum harmonic oscillator network. I've theorized similar structures, but never seen a practical application.
"The difficulty lies in balancing the resonance frequencies between nodes. Even minor miscalculations can cause catastrophic collapse."
"May I try?" Liam asked, curiosity overriding caution.
"Observe first." The magister demonstrated, creating a simple five-node matrix that hummed with stable energy. "The traditional approach requires establishing each node sequentially, then carefully adjusting the connecting pathways."
When she dissolved her demonstration, Liam reached for his mana. He'd spent years developing a systematic understanding of Evranth's magical mechanics, but this formation was outside his experience.
Rather than establishing nodes sequentially, Liam attempted to apply the modified field equations he'd developed over the past four years. He'd used similar methods for smaller constructs countless times. But as he channeled mana into the more complex Resonance Matrix, something unexpected happened.
The streams collided chaotically, energy rebounding in unpredicted directions. Two nodes formed correctly, but the third collapsed immediately, sending a surge of uncontrolled mana through the attempted connections. The backwash of energy struck Liam's hands like an electric shock, causing him to yelp in pain.
"Careful!" Magister Elwin dispelled the failing construct with a swift gesture. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Liam said, shaking his stinging hands. "But I don't understand. This formation should work with the adjustments I've been using for years."
Something's different at this scale. The equations I've developed for smaller constructs aren't transferring properly.
"You attempted a nonstandard approach," she noted with interest. "Did it work for you with simpler constructs?"
"Yes," Liam admitted. "I've been using modified techniques for basic formations since I was seven. But this... the resonance is behaving differently at higher complexity."
"That's precisely why simultaneous formation isn't taught until advanced studies," the magister explained. "The mana exhibits what we call 'threshold cascades.' What works for simpler constructs breaks down at higher complexity without proper stabilization techniques."
Threshold cascades? That's like quantum scale dependency effects. No wonder my equations failed.
"May I try again?" Liam asked, already analyzing what he'd observed.
This time, he adapted his approach based on the new information. He established the first two nodes conventionally, then applied modifications based on the behavior he'd just observed. Rather than forcing his standard equations, he incorporated the new understanding of energy behavior at higher complexity.
The result hovered before them—a functional Resonance Matrix that hummed with stable energy, slightly asymmetrical but structurally sound.
Magister Elwin studied his creation with scholarly interest. "This is remarkable. Many advanced students take weeks to grasp higher-order resonance principles. Your asymmetrical compensation here is particularly elegant."
"It's just an extension of principles I've been working with," Liam said, though he was still processing this fundamental revelation. "I've observed similar effects in smaller constructs, but not to this degree."
Magister Elwin stood silently for a moment, her expression shifting from academic curiosity to something more intense.
"Your approach is unorthodox," she said finally. "Despite your initial failure, the way you adapted reveals something significant."
She dismissed his construct with a casual flick of her fingers, the blue energy dissipating like smoke.
"Most students follow the Traditional Method—building components sequentially, stabilizing each before adding the next. It's safe, reliable, and has been taught for centuries." She started pacing, her robes whispering against the stone floor. "But there's a minority view called the Unified Approach. Controversial. Dangerous. It suggests attempting to manifest the complete pattern at once."
Liam tried to look appropriately impressed rather than frustrated. "I was just trying different methods."
"After four years of training, most students wouldn't dare attempt simultaneous formation—yet you did so instinctively." Her eyes narrowed. "And despite your failure, you adapted and achieved success. That shouldn't be possible without advanced training."
She's interpreting my systematic experimentation as some kind of innate insight. Wonderful.
"I've been experimenting with different techniques for years," Liam said, trying to downplay the significance. "This one just... made sense to try."
"Made sense," she repeated, a thin smile forming. "The most brilliant theoretical minds in the Academy have debated the Unified Approach for decades, yet to a child, it simply 'makes sense.'"
She glanced toward the door, then lowered her voice. "Archmage Tellus himself was ridiculed in his final years for advocating this approach. His last writings claimed that true mastery comes not from building constructs piece by piece, but from perceiving the whole pattern at once—exactly what you attempted today."
And now my failed experiments will be interpreted as fulfilling some dead archmage's controversial theories. Perfect.
The remainder of the morning proceeded similarly—Magister Elwin introducing increasingly advanced concepts, and Liam attempting to apply his understanding with mixed results. Each success deepened her conviction in his prophetic significance, while each failure was interpreted as merely the limitations of his young body.
As the afternoon continued, she introduced increasingly complex constructs, each revealing new scaling issues that challenged Liam's established theories. By his third attempt at a particularly advanced formation—one he'd never encountered before in his studies—his frustration peaked.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Just as he thought he had stabilized the energy field by applying all his previous corrections, the formation twisted in an entirely unpredicted direction. The resulting blast knocked him backward into the wall with surprising force.
[CONGRATULATIONS ON DISCOVERING BASIC MANA PRINCIPLES!]
Only took you FOUR YEARS to realize that your techniques FALL APART COMPLETELY at higher circles!
Even a HALF-ASLEEP FIRST-YEAR would have figured this out by now!
ACHIEVEMENT: [MAGIC HAS RULES: WHO KNEW?]
REWARD: Firsthand experience with mana backlash
(Consider this your first TRUE lesson in advanced circle theory, PROFESSOR OBLIVIOUS!)
Liam stared down at his singed robes and aching hands. Four years of developing theoretical models for Arcane magic, yet today had shattered many of his fundamental assumptions. What worked perfectly at smaller scales became unpredictable at higher complexities—a frustrating revelation for someone who'd prided himself on his systematic understanding.
Magister Elwin helped him to his feet. "You've pushed further than I expected today. These are formations most students don't attempt until their seventh year."
"I thought I understood the principles," Liam said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. "I've been developing formulas that work consistently with standard constructs."
"Of course you have," she replied with a knowing smile. "But the Arcane doesn't follow simple progression. Each circle of complexity introduces new harmonics that disrupt previous patterns. That's why formal education takes seven years—each year corresponds to a complexity circle that requires entirely new understanding."
Seven complexity circles... that aligns with the seven systems mentioned in the prophecy. Could there be a connection?
Midway through the afternoon, the door to the practice chamber opened unexpectedly. Two senior students entered—both wearing the silver-trimmed blue robes that marked them as seventh-years.
"Magister Elwin," the taller one said with a formal bow. "The Archmage sent us to observe the special apprentice's progress."
"Vance, Merrick," she acknowledged with a nod. "Initiate Thorne is demonstrating quite remarkable adaptability."
Liam assessed the newcomers quickly. Vance was tall and thin, with sharp features and calculating eyes. Merrick was stockier, with a perpetual scowl that suggested he'd already formed his opinion.
"The prodigy," Vance said, his tone carefully neutral despite the skepticism in his eyes. "We've heard remarkable things."
"Hard to believe someone so young could achieve such insight," Merrick added bluntly. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"
Magister Elwin's mouth tightened slightly. "That's precisely why you're here. Liam, please recreate the Resonance Matrix you formed earlier."
Liam hesitated, sensing the trap being laid. These senior students hadn't come to observe—they'd come to expose him as a fraud.
If I perform too well, I'll only deepen this prophecy nonsense. If I deliberately fail, I'll invite more scrutiny.
The senior students watched with poorly concealed skepticism as Liam carefully established the first node of the Resonance Matrix, then the second. He proceeded cautiously, applying the corrections he'd discovered earlier.
Just as he connected the third node, Merrick shifted suddenly, a subtle discharge of his own mana creating a harmonic disruption that rippled through Liam's construct. The matrix destabilized instantly, collapsing in a shower of blue sparks.
"Unfortunate," Vance commented with a thin smile. "Perhaps the morning's achievements were... exaggerated?"
Anger flashed through Liam. He'd spent four years developing his understanding of this system, and this arrogant senior had deliberately sabotaged him.
"Let me try again," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
This time, he established a subtle shielding barrier around his working area—a technique he'd developed two years ago after another student had accidentally disrupted one of his experiments. It wasn't part of the standard curriculum, but it had proven effective.
As he reconstructed the matrix, he felt another harmonic disruption from Merrick's direction—but this time, his shield absorbed and neutralized it. The Resonance Matrix formed perfectly, each node balanced with the asymmetrical compensation he'd discovered earlier.
The senior students' expressions shifted from skepticism to surprise, then suspicion.
"Impossible," Merrick muttered. "That's an eighth-circle technique."
"Not impossible, clearly," Vance countered, studying the construct with narrowed eyes. "But highly improbable without... assistance."
They think I'm cheating somehow. Can't blame them—it's more rational than believing a nine-year-old has mystical insight.
"Senior Apprentice Vance," Magister Elwin's voice carried a warning edge. "If you have concerns, express them directly."
Vance straightened. "Very well. I find it suspicious that an initiate with barely four years of training can suddenly perform techniques that require decades of study. The sequence suggests outside intervention."
"Are you accusing me of something?" Liam asked, deliberately pitching his voice to remind them of his apparent age.
"Not accusation. Observation." Vance circled the Resonance Matrix, his own mana probing its structure. "Perfect theoretical execution, yet no evidence of the expected learning curve. It's as if the knowledge appeared fully-formed."
Well, that's actually true, just not in the way he thinks.
"The Archmage has already considered this matter," Magister Elwin interjected. "Initiate Thorne's abilities align precisely with the Tellian Prophecy's description of intuitive understanding."
"With respect, Magister, prophecies are interpretations, not explanations." Vance's gaze never left Liam. "There are other possibilities. Possession. Memory transfer. Even direct manipulation from—"
"Enough!" The magister's voice cracked like a whip. "You overstep, Senior Apprentice. The Archmage himself has validated Initiate Thorne's abilities. Unless you wish to challenge his assessment directly?"
Vance stiffened, then composed himself with visible effort. "Of course not, Magister. I merely advocate for thorough investigation, as any scholar would."
"Your concern is noted," she replied coldly. "Now, if you've satisfied your curiosity, we have work to continue."
After they departed, she turned to Liam with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that. The Archmage warned me that some would find your abilities... threatening."
Not threatening. Suspicious. And rightfully so. Four years of careful obscurity shattered in less than two days.
"Why did they think I was cheating?" he asked, though he knew the answer perfectly well.
The magister sighed, sitting beside him on one of the stone benches. "The Arcane tradition values methodical progress. Years of study, gradual advancement through established curriculum. What you're demonstrating—intuitive leaps that bypass traditional learning—challenges the very foundation of our educational approach."
Because I'm applying knowledge from another world entirely.
"I'm not trying to break tradition," Liam said truthfully. "I just see things a certain way."
"And that, dear child, is precisely what makes you special." She patted his hand. "Now, before we conclude today, there's one more matter. The Archmage has requested that you participate in the Solstice Demonstration three days from now."
Liam's stomach dropped. "The Solstice Demonstration?"
"A ceremonial display of Arcane mastery before visiting dignitaries and noble families. Typically, only senior apprentices participate, but the Archmage believes your inclusion would be... significant."
Of course he does. Nothing says 'prophesied one' like parading a child prodigy before the nobility.
"What would I need to do?" he asked, already dreading the answer.
"Create a Tellian Configuration—the same pattern you formed yesterday, but on a grand scale. It would serve as the central focus of the ceremony."
Are they insane? I just struggled with basic third-circle constructs! I couldn't even create a stable Resonance Matrix on the first try, and now they want me to make a massive Tellian Configuration in front of an audience? When the small version nearly blew up in my face multiple times during development? That's not a demonstration—that's a potential catastrophe waiting to happen.
"I'll try my best," he said, knowing refusal wasn't an option.
"Excellent." She stood, gathering her materials. "You have free study time until evening meal. I suggest you use it to rest. Tomorrow will be equally demanding."
After she left, Liam remained in the practice chamber, contemplating his rapidly deteriorating situation. Four years of careful obscurity shattered in less than two days. Now he faced public demonstrations, suspicious senior students, and increasing expectations from the Academy leadership.
I need information. If I'm going to navigate this mess, I need to understand what exactly they think I am. And more importantly, I need to figure out why my techniques keep failing at higher complexity levels.
Decision made, he headed for the one place that might hold answers—the Academy's Great Library. Unlike the common library available to all students, the Great Library occupied the central spire's middle levels, its contents restricted to senior apprentices and above. Normally, a nine-year-old initiate would be turned away immediately.
But Liam was no longer a normal initiate.
The elderly librarian at the entrance raised bushy eyebrows at his approach, then noticed the special insignia now adorning his robes—the mark of the Archmage's direct interest.
"Ah, you must be the Thorne boy," the old man said, peering through crystal-lensed spectacles. "We were told to expect you. Special dispensation for special circumstances."
"I'm researching the Tellian Prophecy," Liam said, deciding directness was his best approach.
The librarian's eyes widened slightly. "Researching your own prophecy? How meta." He chuckled at his own joke, then gestured toward the spiraling shelves. "Historical Prophecies, western quadrant, third level. The Tellian documents specifically are in sealed crystal cases—touch your insignia to the lock for access."
Liam navigated the vast library with quiet wonder. Unlike the common library's orderly shelves, the Great Library was a marvel of magical architecture—floating platforms connected by bridges of solidified light, bookshelves curving impossibly through three-dimensional space, and reading nooks tucked into reality-defying corners where gravity seemed optional.
Spatial manipulation on this scale requires extraordinary precision. The mathematical models alone would be fascinating to study.
He found the Historical Prophecies section easily enough, located on a circular platform that slowly rotated around a central crystal column. As the librarian had indicated, several crystal cases punctuated the shelves, their contents visible but secured.
Liam approached one labeled "Tellian Codex - Original Manuscript," and pressed his insignia to the lock. The crystal surface shimmered and became intangible, allowing him to carefully remove the ancient book within.
He settled into a nearby reading alcove, where soft blue light automatically adjusted to optimal reading intensity. The book's cover was weathered leather embedded with crystal fragments that pulsed gently at his touch. Inside, pages of impossibly thin material—neither paper nor parchment—bore text that seemed to shift slightly as he focused on it, the ancient language translating itself for his understanding.
Adaptive linguistic interface. Fascinating.
Turning to the section marked with symbols matching his insignia, Liam began to read:
"And it shall come to pass that one shall arise who speaks the true language of the Arcane, whose mind perceives the patterns that underlie all magic. This vessel shall create the Nexus Configuration without training, shall understand without learning, and shall bridge the Seven Systems that have been sundered by the limitations of mortal comprehension."
Liam frowned. The language was frustratingly vague, as prophecies typically were. He continued reading:
"The Nexus Walker shall pass between the systems as water flows between vessels, carrying understanding where there was division. And in the moment of convergence, when the Seven become One in the Walker's understanding, the Great Barrier shall be breached, and that which was separated shall be rejoined."
Great. So I'm supposed to somehow unite magical systems that are fundamentally incompatible according to everything this world knows. No pressure.
He flipped further through the book, searching for more concrete information. Most of it was similarly cryptic, until he reached a section containing detailed diagrams of seven distinct geometric patterns—one for each magical system.
The Arcane pattern he recognized immediately—the same energy-minimized polyhedron he'd created yesterday. But the others were new to him, each representing a different magical tradition:
Aura: A spiraling vortex pattern reminiscent of particle acceleration paths. Ki: Branching fractal structures that resembled organic growth patterns. Soul: Interlinked rings forming complex topological knots. Runic: Angular glyphs arranged in precise mathematical sequences. Shadow: Negative space patterns defining absence rather than presence. Divine: Radial symmetry emanating from central points of focus.
Liam studied each diagram with growing fascination. They're all describing related energy principles from different perspectives—like looking at the same phenomenon through different mathematical frameworks.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the page. He looked up to find Vance standing over him, his expression unreadable.
"Light reading?" the senior apprentice asked, eyeing the ancient text.
Liam closed the book carefully. "Just trying to understand what everyone expects of me."
"A practical approach." Vance settled uninvited into the chair opposite. "Though prophecies rarely offer practical guidance."
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
"You don't believe I'm this 'Nexus Walker,'" Liam stated finally.
"What I believe is irrelevant. The Archmage has made his determination." Vance's fingers drummed a precise rhythm on the table. "But I am curious about something. That Resonance Matrix you created—why did you form the first two nodes conventionally, then use a different technique for the rest?"
The direct question caught Liam off guard. "Your colleague's interference forced me to adapt."
"You noticed that?" Vance looked genuinely surprised. "Most initiates wouldn't have detected Merrick's harmonic disruption, let alone countered it." His eyes narrowed. "And that defensive barrier—that's not taught until sixth-year specialization."
Because I developed it myself after experiencing similar interferences years ago.
"I've had to develop defenses," Liam said honestly. "Being younger than everyone else has its challenges."
"I imagine it does." Vance studied him with renewed intensity. "You know, there are other explanations besides prophecy. Reincarnation. Memory transfer. Even possession by a former master."
Liam's heart skipped a beat. He's closer to the truth than he realizes.
"Interesting theories," he said carefully.
"Theories that would be considerably less disruptive to established order than a child prophesied to overturn our entire understanding of magical systems." Vance stood. "The Archmage has his reasons for backing the prophecy interpretation. I wonder what they are."
With that cryptic statement, he walked away, leaving Liam alone with the ancient text.
I've made an enemy. Or at least, someone who will watch my every move for mistakes.
Sighing, Liam returned to the book, flipping to a section that caught his eye—detailed descriptions of each magical system. The Arcane system he knew intimately, but the others were largely unknown to him beyond general cultural awareness.
He focused on the Aura system, described as "the manifestation of internal energy through physical form." Unlike Arcane magic, which manipulated external mana, Aura practitioners cultivated energy within their own bodies, enhancing strength, speed, and endurance beyond normal human limits.
Interesting. If Arcane is external energy manipulation, then Aura might be manipulation of cellular energy production—effectively increasing ATP efficiency and neural transmission speeds. Though given how wrong my assumptions have been today, I should be careful about making comparisons to Earth physics.
As he read, a strange sensation prickled at the base of his skull—a warm pressure that spread slowly down his spine. The text seemed to blur before his eyes, letters rearranging themselves into patterns that transcended language, revealing connections he hadn't perceived before.
The pressure intensified, becoming almost uncomfortable as knowledge flowed into his mind—not as conscious thought but as intuitive understanding. Something was changing, systems reconfiguring at a fundamental level.
And then, the voice:
[SYSTEM BREACH DETECTED!]
Unauthorized access attempt to AURA SYSTEM interface detected!
Your body is about as suited for Aura manipulation as a JELLYFISH is for MARATHON RUNNING!
Current chance of biological meltdown: 87.6%!
WARNING: Forcing system access may result in:
1. Spontaneous combustion (messy)
2. Cellular liquefaction (messier)
3. Total neurological failure (less messy, equally fatal)
4. Looking like an ABSOLUTE IDIOT (survivable but permanent)
The book slipped from Liam's suddenly nerveless fingers as the message faded, leaving him gasping for breath. The pressure in his skull subsided to a dull throb, like the aftermath of a migraine.
What the hell was that?
He closed his eyes, focusing on his internal senses. Something had definitely changed—a new awareness lingering at the edges of his consciousness, like a door slightly ajar where before there had been only wall.
Before he could explore this sensation further, the library's chiming bells announced the approach of evening meal. Reluctantly, Liam returned the ancient book to its crystal case and made his way down from the restricted section, his mind racing with implications.
As he exited the library, a translucent blue window appeared briefly before his eyes:
AURA SYSTEM: Dormant (0%)
The notification vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but its meaning was unmistakable. Something had begun to awaken within him—something beyond the Arcane abilities he'd mastered.
If the prophecy was correct, this was only the beginning.
Day 1,461 (Evranth Calendar Year 542, Day 180): The equations are becoming more complex, and the constants don't remain constant. Basic principles I took for granted don't apply consistently at higher complexity levels. There's a pattern here I'm still missing—a unified theory waiting to be discovered, but it might be nothing like Earth physics at its foundation. I need to start from observation rather than assumption, or these failures will continue...and next time, I might lose more than just eyebrows.
As Liam made his way to the Scholar's Dining Hall, he didn't notice the shadowy figure watching from a recessed alcove—Archmage Varian, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction in the gathering darkness.
"The first awareness stirs," the old man whispered to himself. "Just as foretold."
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