The final outcome of magic hangs on a Spellcaster’s inner power, the spell’s knotwork and focus, and the mana riding the air.

Hedi pinched chalk between her fingers, chalk dust drifting like frost, scored a formula on the board, then said:

The mana flowing through us is the bedrock of casting, a river in the veins. The more you can stir and steer it, the stronger the spell.

Then the spell’s complexity and your focus carve its precision and efficiency, like knife and whetstone.

Complex spells demand sharper concentration and finer hands; simple ones cast like tossing pebbles, easy but limited in force.

The ambient mana means the resources floating in the air, a thin mist you breathe.

Hedi halted her chalk, turned and swept the room like wind over reeds, making sure no one nodded off.

Outer mana and inner mana braid together; that interweave births magic. Either strand missing, the loom stops.

A student close to the lectern lifted a hand like a sapling and asked, “Do scrolls cast because they store mana in advance?”

Hedi nodded, a crisp pebble in still water. “Yes.”

“With so much mana riding the air like fog on a river, what use are scrolls at all?”

Hedi thought for a beat, her gaze quiet as a lake. “A scroll’s core isn’t the mana but the script on it. Those words slash the guiding time, sharpen precision, and boost malleability.”

“Malleability?” The word hovered like soft clay.

“That’s for spring term of Year One; sprouts are still tender. You’re touching it too early.”

The room burst into chatter like sparrows at dawn. Hedi tapped the desk, palm beats like a drum, asking for quiet.

Inside, she grumbled, smoke under a lid—old geezer. He heard me promise to carry this cohort to graduation, then stuffed me into a brand-new class.

“Tell us, please!” Their voices fluttered like kites.

“No harm in peeking ahead!” Another chimed in, bright as a bell.

Hedi cleared her throat, a small bell in winter, and warned, “The Principal sent me here on short notice, so you don’t know me well—”

“We do! I’ve wanted your class for ages.”

“First, don’t cut me off. Second, what I teach is my call.” Hedi planted both hands on the desk, firm as stone; the room’s air shifted.

“Leave me a good impression. Magic Theory fails students like frost kills crops.”

“You... won’t let us pass?”

“How could I?”

Hedi kept writing formulas on the board; when a principle needed explaining, she paused and laid out the path, patient as a mountain guide.

As the bell rang, even with a thousand questions twining like vines, she had already left, stride long.

A week flowed in quiet order—almost unbelievable. Though the Dark Realm still hovered in memory, the roach’s sick skittering had faded like a stain in rain.

Winter pressed heavier.

Thick leaves piled around the library; when burned, fine smoke rose like fat ropes pointing at the sky.

I wondered about Selina, worry pricking like winter needles. She was hunting for her sister; we never crossed in the Dark Realm. She’s likely still an Investigator at the institute.

Thinking back to meeting her in Shattered City, the scene felt like yesterday, fresh as wet ink.

Hedi took a sip from her paper cup, cold as a creek, and slipped into the room on the beat of the bell.

She laid the test papers on the desk, eyes sweeping like a broom. She checked that no seat sat empty, and said:

“You’ve been here a week. Time for a quiz.”

“Will it be hard?”

“If you paid attention, it’s just stepping stones.”

Hedi handed out the papers, sat at the lectern, and watched the students write, silent as snow.

Suddenly, pain surged like a black tide and crashed into her skull. A storm of little knives cut and ground inside.

A student noticed, concern flickering like a small lamp. “Are you alright?”

Hedi shook her head and stood. Pain knocked her off balance; she braced on the desk like a drowning swimmer to stay upright.

“You… you all…” Cold sweat streamed down her brow like rain. “Don’t cheat. I’ll fetch someone to proctor.”

She trudged to the office, found a proctor and a substitute, asked Bruns for leave, then hurried back to her apartment.

Before the door even opened, the phone clamored like a cage of birds.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hey.” The voice repeated, soft and skipping. “Remember me?”

“Stratford. I remember your tone.”

“Mm~ not bad.”

Hedi wanted to slam the phone down, irritation crawling like ants, but kept civil. “What is it?”

“I pulled your number from the personal archive. I forgot to ask back in Shattered City, didn’t I?”

“Has anyone told you your phone self and your in-person self don’t match, like two masks?”

“All the time,” she said, a smile like a paper mask.

“Never mind. Get to it; I don’t have time for rambling.”

“The results are out.” Evelyn’s voice floated like silk in a draft. “Any headaches lately?”

“No.”

“That’s very good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean—should I be in pain?”

“Didn’t you burn out your mind in the Dark Realm?”

Relief trickled like cool rain as she bent over the table. “Selina told you?”

“That’s what the tests show. The Dark Realm marked you.”

“Meaning what?”

“It means the Dark Realm will keep eating your brain, like moths on cloth, until you’re an idiot.”

“I won’t turn into an idiot, and I don’t hurt. Selina already—”

“It’s not Selina’s credit. Whatever she did, what truly pulled you back was the shield.”

“Say it all at once. Your ping-pong questioning is annoying.” Hedi’s temper flared like sparks in dry straw.

“Something very peculiar is guarding your brain,” Evelyn said, voice flat as gray water. “But when I looked, it vanished.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Ask yourself. What did you live through in the Dark Realm?”

“I drained my mind, blacked out, then… dreamed. A dream with no details left, like smoke through fingers.”

“It’s been long; forgetting is normal.”

“That’s all you called to say?”

“Selina’s on her way to your place.” Evelyn paused, silence like a held breath. “Kicking up a fuss about paying you or something.”

“I forgot all about that.”

“You two really had a money deal?”

Hedi clicked her tongue softly, the sound a pebble on a pond.

“Don’t be mad. I’m just going along with the current.”

“So you agreed to let her come—why?”

“For magic research, of course.”

“I told you already, I’m not interested.”

“Consider it. It’s the key to curing Dark Realm Erosion.”

“Key? What did you—” She didn’t finish. The other line slammed down, decisive as an axe.

Hedi stood adrift, staring at the handset like a dead black fish. After a while, she noticed the pain was gone, perhaps dissolved mid-conversation.

She stood and wiped sweat from her face with a handkerchief, the fabric cool as shade.

A short knock tapped at the door, quick as a sparrow.

“Professor! Professor! It’s me, Selina!”