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    Selena Gregor was bored.

    There were about three minutes left till the end of Professor Llywyd’s class, and she was so bored that she was tempted to poke her eye out just to feel something. Core stabilization was no one’s favorite subject, but the faculty insisted on forcing it on students anyway, even though Selena knew her time could be better spent elsewhere.

    Like perfecting her [Lightning Whip].

    Or expanding the reach of her [Firebreath] spell.

    Or challenging someone to a duel.

    The problem with the last idea, however, was that there was no one left to challenge at this school.

    As the only Master in Cohort 4, she so far outpaced the rest of her class that it was ridiculous.

    She yawned loudly, spurring some giggles from a few of her classmates. Professor Llywyd cleared her throat.

    “Selena,” she said warningly.

    “Sorry, Professor,” Selena opened one eye, shooting her a charming smile. “It’s just that guided meditation triggers the same instincts as a nice, afternoon nap.”

    The statement wasn’t that funny, but people laughed anyway, because she was Selena Gregor and she’d made a joke.

    The only ones who didn’t laugh were Professor Llywyd herself and the dour-faced boy who sat on a mat at the back of the class, ignoring the interruption and continuing his meditation.

    Selina knew his name now. Telip Mursili. The only Vacu-dominant mage in the entire academy.

    Selena hadn’t noticed him at first, years ago, when they were a class of ninety. She hadn’t noticed him either when there were thirty left, nor when there were twenty. But now there were only eight people in their class, and she couldn’t help but notice the way he always kept to himself, never asking her favors or advice or anything.

    Selena was used to being approached constantly. Everyone always wanted her help, though she was selective in who she awarded her attention to.

    Even those without the courage to ask still admired her from afar.

    And why wouldn’t they?

    She had all the makings for high esteem: an inner strength despite her tragic backstory, the beauty and charm of her mother, and the power and authority of her father.

    Plus, she had a stellar personality, or so they said. She was kind enough, playful enough, with just the right amount of authority to command respect and obedience.

    She turned heads and naturally drew attention wherever she went, so much so that she was constantly surrounded by sycophants. It could be bothersome, but she didn’t hate it. She’d accepted that fate long ago, as a consequence of her undeniable greatness, which marked the beginning of the destiny she’d chosen for herself.

    She was going to be the most powerful mage that ever lived, someone who rivaled those of myth.

    As such, it was only natural for people to admire her.

    The only people who didn’t admire her were enemies of her clan who actively hated her.

    But Telip was different.

    He wasn’t an enemy, and he didn’t hate her.

    He simply ignored her the way he ignored everyone else in their cohort.

    Selena really did not like being treated like everyone else.

    “I would think Selena,” Professor Llywyd interrupted her musings. “That you, of all people, would take this more seriously, considering how out of sync your cores are. It’s a shame that you came here with the most flawless cores I’ve ever seen, and now it’s so unbalanced it pains me to observe it.”

    “Thank you,” Selena responded, triggering more laughter. But the thanks were genuine in a way. She was more than happy to have her cores out of balance.

    Thanks to the monks who had raised her, she’d spent most of her childhood perfecting and stabilizing those very same cores.

    However, the older she grew, the more Selena realized that she did not care about perfection and stability.

    She cared about power. She cared about being the youngest Archmage there ever was. She wanted to be ferocious and unpredictable and admired like the Legendary Mages of old.

    It was why she had chosen a Calor-Vacu lean, the most challenging lean there was to learn.

    Calor and Vacu were a hazardous combination, with Vacu being difficult to hold and Calor having a natural tendency towards entropy.

    It made it such that nearly every single high-level spell she cast was basically like toying with life or death.

    It brought her an incredible rush, and so she’d focused on training those cores, ignoring the other useless ones.

    However, Professor Llywyd and the monks were always complaining about how she’d wrecked her stellar core stability in chasing Calor dominance.

    It didn’t matter. She still had impeccable control, better than any other mage in their year. Better than other masters. Probably better than some archmages, too.

    In pushing for dominance of her chosen essences, she’d mastered difficult spells and become the youngest Master ever recorded. At level 270, she was on track to be the youngest recorded Archmage. Once she reached Level 500, she could challenge another Archmage for their post, and she would become a force unlike anything the world had ever seen.

    But Professor Llywyd and the monks were too old-fashioned to see her vision, which was entirely their problem.

    Thankfully, the class was soon over, and she chatted with a few of her classmates until she saw someone at the doorway waiting for her.

    Anne Earthbinder.

    “Anne,” Selena called as she approached, and she let her smile drop at the look on Anne’s face. “What’s wrong?”

    “I just received news that my brother’s on campus.”

    “Oh? Why?”

    “He’s delivering someone. A new admit.”

    “Why’s he escorting them personally?”

    “I don’t know yet. Maybe she’s his secret love child.” Her callous tone couldn’t hide her innate trepidation at the possibility and what it would mean for her already tenuous hold on the clan patriarchal seat.

    Anne was constantly afraid that it would slip from her grasp, and while Selena could comprehend it, she couldn’t empathize, really.

    After all, she was the only one left to become the Matriarch of the Gregors, after her entire family was slaughtered.

    Selena pushed that thought away and considered Elric, musing on a possibility.

    He was one of the younger Archmages, having only gained his seat six to seven years ago. He might be the easiest to overthrow. This would be a good chance to evaluate him.

    “We should go find out what he’s doing here then,” Selena said.

    Though Anne didn’t seem enthusiastic about this idea, she, obviously, obliged.

    ***

    Ari was nervous even as the robust old man approached, his gait brisk and slightly jolting yet rhythmic at the same time.

    He was smiling, but she couldn’t relax enough to appreciate his joviality. He was about to give her a test.

    She’d never had an unexpected test before. She was unprepared. What if she failed?

    She couldn’t fail.

    Elric had given her a hint. Don’t overdo it.

    Don’t overdo what?

    She wanted to ask, but Dean Octavius reached them in no time. He pulled his long beard out from the waistband of his white cloudsilk robes and stroked it. The beard was braided, with colorful beads and ornaments that matched the pattern of woven gold and purple detailing the hem of his robes.

    He started to bow, but Elric held up his hand.

    “Oh, come now. No need to embarrass me, Dean Octavius.”

    “There is a need. After all, you’re an Archmage now, and I’m merely a Master.”

    “Your ‘mereness’ is of your own doing, because you refused to grow your levels, out of sheer stubbornness. If not, you would have been an Archmage ages ago.”

    “Perhaps, but I prefer my life this way.” His silver gaze met Ari’s for a second before she looked away. “And you must be Arielle Blacksoil.”

    “Y-yes,” Arielle stammered. “I’m Arielle Blacksoil.”

    “It’s good to meet you. I was very impressed with your scores, although I would expect nothing less from a cousin of Elric.”

    Arielle didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t planned for this much conversation, and she was too nervous about the test to think. So she said nothing.

    Dean Octavius’ smile slipped. “Did I say something wrong?”

    “No. She’s just shy,” Elric said. “Please, let’s go in and discuss.”

    “Of course. Let’s go to my office. [CARRY ON].” He targeted the spell to her box, and it lifted in the air, sweeping ahead of them towards their intended destination.

    Ari blinked, then turned on Elric. “I could have done that the entire time?” Though the box wasn’t too heavy, it had still been inconvenient to carry by hand.

    Elric simply winked, and they followed the professor through the main doors.

    It opened up to a central hall that had circular patterns and five internal chambers arranged like a pentagon. Students in robes cut across, in twos and threes, talking to each other and glancing at Ari as they passed. A few of them smirked. One waved. Most did not have any reaction to her.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Dean Octavius led them up spiral staircases that anchored a series of balconies all the way up to the top floor. The center of the room was open, and at the base, Ari could stare through the transparent ceiling at the essence currents flowing above them. She could almost feel the subtle hum of the leyline.

    “It looks exactly like I remember,” Elric murmured.

    “The years fly by, don’t they?” Dean Octavius remarked. “But even as decades pass, you remain my absolute favorite student, Elric.”

    “You say that to all your students.”

    “Yes, but I lied to them. I’m telling you the truth.”

    Elric chuckled, and as they finally reached the top-floor balcony, he and Elric made easy conversation, while Ari prepared herself for the test.

    They approached a tall, heavy oak door at the very end of the hallway, which automatically opened to reveal an office.

    The room itself was organized, but everything felt a little cramped. The large desk was full of parchments and a compartment of quills; the walls behind the desk were crowded with paintings. The desk was bordered by shelves on either side, which were packed to the rim with books.

    As Arielle moved forward, she uncovered a tall window just to her right….

    That had a large bogworm perched on it.

    The minute it spotted Arielle, it launched at her, roaring ferociously.

    Fear instantly jumped into her heart.

    Her initial instinct was to run as it coiled up into the air, opening its maw to swallow her whole.

    She needed to get out of here. She didn’t ask herself what the bog worm was doing in the office, or if it was indeed attacking her.

    She just knew it was going to kill her.

    Rational thought collapsed, and instinct took over, the need to fight or flee.

    But then she finally realized the orbs swirling around the bogworm, particularly around its feet.

    And saw that it had extended into a chain at her neck.

    Magic had been used on her.

    She could sense it now, the heavy buzzing of the essences arranged around her. They were mostly Luxa particles.

    It buzzed louder as the fear pulsed in her mind, and one more hint showed her the truth.

    The pattern around the bogworm was familiar.

    It wasn’t attacking her.

    In fact, it wasn’t real.

    She turned to the dean, who was somehow behind her, though he’d been in front when they’d approached the door. “It’s not real, is it?”

    Dean Octavius reared back. His eyebrow ruffled. “You can tell?”

    “Not at first,” she admitted. “But now I do.” The pattern had reminded her of Gio’s when he’d cast that bird illusion.

    Dean Octavius stared at Elric for a few seconds, then turned back to Ari. “I can’t believe you saw through it.”

    “Was I not supposed to?”

    “No other student has seen through it before. Typically, they either attack the illusion or are smart enough to run away. It’s a small test to see which type you were.”

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