Hedi wiped the frosty smear of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth, took the chalk from Bruns, and taught with lake-still composure. “Magic shapes itself to the caster’s will. Two broad paths: morphing forms, and combination with fusion.”

“The same spell can wear many faces and serve many functions. A common flame can light the way like a lantern, bite like a blade, or harden into a shield.” Hedi said this, sent Bruns out of the room, then slapped the lectern, a drumbeat that gathered every gaze, nobles included. “Combination means binding two or more different effects to birth a new, more complex spell. Fuse fire with wind, and you get an inferno tempest.”

Using the formulas Bruns had left, she carried the compound line across the blackboard, chalk stroking like white rivers. “Here, M1 and M2 are base effects—say M1 is fire, M2 is wind. Combine them in a specific choreography, and a new result emerges—the inferno tempest I just named. The plus sign marks synergy, a chorus rather than arithmetic. As for C, it’s the energy the composite demands. Only when these elements blend just right does the spell take shape.”

Fear of dense symbols eased. Faces opened like shutters in sunlight. At the door, Bruns and Reynor let out twin breaths, tension melting like frost in morning light. Bruns even joked, “I considered going crazy up there and turning into a babbling old man.”

“Isn’t she in Naghtown?” Reynor asked, puzzled. “Back so fast?”

“Because I still matter to Melvina,” Bruns said, with a wry spark. “How could she bear to let an old man make a fool of himself?”

“It was your fault. You deserved the mess.”

“You say that now, but you looked more anxious than me.”

“I just didn’t want… Melvina getting dragged into trouble because of your call.” Relief washed through Reynor first, then action came easier; his anxiety rose like a sea bubble and popped, leaving no trace.

Bruns nodded. “I’ll weigh leave requests more carefully in the future.”

“You agreed to something this big—headmaster—”

“Her tie to John…” Bruns flicked Reynor a glance. “A daughter wanting to visit her foster father—how is that wrong?”

“I don’t know Melvina’s past. Only that she was an orphan.”

“When I signed the leave, I’d already made peace with it. Melvina matters more than those damn nobles.”

“You shouldn’t—”

Bruns stopped him with a palm, then slowly shrugged off his deep-blue suit, the fabric damp like rain-soaked canvas. He opened the lapel to show the tag, folded the jacket with care, and hugged it close. “It reeks of sweat. Not sure they’ll take it back.”

“Buy it,” Reynor said, a kind smile like warm tea. “One look at this suit, you’ll remember today.”

“Close call… nearly scared this old man to death…”

Reynor watched Bruns fade at the end of the corridor, a figure swallowed by light. He leaned on the doorframe, lazy as a cat in sun, and listened to Hedi’s lesson.

Hedi paced the lectern, steps steady as metronome ticks. She used simple, direct words to unwrap composite magic, then hung vivid metaphors like lanterns to help minds catch and hold.

At the last row, Enns studied the chalkwork with quiet delight. “Professor Melvina is the youngest Arcane Prize laureate. She’s brilliant, and her teaching is inventive. See? Those thorny formulas, under her hand, read like a fairy tale.”

“Isn’t that a teacher’s job?” Kito shifted, bored, a leaf turning to find shade. “If a Professor of Magic can’t make the class understand, they’ve wasted a life.”

“Still mad about earlier?”

“Just a little speechless. Maybe you hyped Melvina too high, so reality and imagination parted like tide and shore.”

“If you think that way, no Professor of Magic will please you.”

Kito’s smile skimmed his lips, frank yet layered, like ink over grain. “You invited me to audit so I’d witness Melvina’s brilliance. I did. But in an age where technology is about to crush magic, that brilliance becomes a shaky footing. We already have methods to counter a Spellcaster’s attacks. We’re still exploring how to marry those methods to machines. If we succeed, it’ll be flesh and blood against steel.”

“We don’t have to suppress magic.”

“The Cabinet has tilted the resources to tech. Whatever you want, the future’s arrow points there.”

Enns rubbed his cane, a small rhythm like rain on wood, and sighed. “I thought this class might change your mind.”

“My mind doesn’t matter. In the current tide, the new nobles want the old nobles off the stage. If you want to restore magic’s glory, you’ll need a cataclysm, throw us back to the Middle Ages, blade against blade.”

“Your whole team is in on researching counters to Spellcasters?”

“The Empire lacks a way to deal with them.”

“I hope this isn’t just propaganda meant to trample the old nobles.”

Kito tilted his head, absently rubbing the cracked skin at his lip, voice low as dusk. “You’ve admitted magic research hit a bottleneck. Ordinary systems, the Sacred Cathedral’s Sacred Magic, and the deciphered Dark Magic—they make the boundary modern Spellcasters can reach. That’s the ceiling, a wall no one breaks.”

“Your tech only counters mana-driven ordinary magic. It’s useless against magic that burns spirit and emotion.”

“The three branches differ in triggers, yes. But every casting leans on gathering and conversion. We can disperse any of them into harmless air. That part is more than doable.”

Enns drew a silent breath, a silver thread in his chest, then smiled. “You’ve raced ahead. Last time we talked, you needed to injure the body to offset a spell. Now you can just… erase it…”

“Don’t worry. We only found the method. Turning it into machinery is still an unanswered riddle.”

The bell rang with a bronze clang.

Hedi walked to the back row and asked the two auditing nobles if they were satisfied.

“Spectacular,” Kito said, praise bright as flame. “You’re very good at teaching.”

“Thank you.”

“At first, I thought you were throwing a tantrum, skipping class on purpose.” Kito’s expression shifted, like clouds rolling over a hill. “Now I think you staged a play for me.”

“About that—”

“Perfectly timed. Right as I was about to blow, you burst in like the lead, then won me over with a brilliant class. I’m impressed.”

Hedi flushed, heat rising like dawn. She’d crashed at two in the morning, overslept, sprinted to the academy, and even forgot the smear of toothpaste on her face.

“I’ll see you out,” Reynor said, smoothing the air like a hand over ripples. “Or do you want to stroll the academy?”

Enns refused with a shake, a lone traveler’s nod, while Kito said, “I’ve got things to do,” and headed for the gate.

Once the nobles left, the students erupted in cheers, a flock taking wing, then stilled under Hedi’s sharp gaze.

Reynor walked up to Hedi and, relief first, voice second, spoke plainly. “You came just in time. Without you, this audit would’ve plunged into awkward silence.”

“Are you busy after school?”

“I planned sword drills. What’s up?”

“For Selina’s tryout and the Naghtown matter—I still owe you thanks. Let me buy you dinner.”

“Honored.”

“Will practice take long?”

“I can skip today.”

Hedi tilted her mouth, a curious little quirk. “Alright. I’ll wait for you at the gate after school.”