River's steps were light as he and Lud left the city behind, crossing onto a narrow gravel road. River chuckled to himself. Good luck.

  He turned his head slightly, glancing back at the city. For all its familiarity, the place that had been his home for as long as he could remember only stirred bitter memories. Despite the disappearance of his scar, his cheek still twinged with pain as memories flooded his thoughts.

  His eyes traced over the stone buildings, the winding streets, and the grand towers of the nobles—nothing more than reminders of what he had left behind. He was only left behind with a sour taste in his mouth, something he would never be able to wash away.

  He turned his gaze forward. The road ahead was lighter, as if the weight of Norvil was finally loosening its grip.

  Lud’s voice broke the silence. “We’re heading to Dougan. The school’s just outside the city. It shouldn’t take more than a week.” Just before they stepped back out onto the main street, a question finally pushed itself past River’s nerves. He glanced at Lud. “What’s the point of the school, anyway?” he asked. “Like… why does it even exist?” Lud cut him a sidelong look. “The school makes mages—advisers, healers, war-captains. Some come for power; some for the title. Around here, magic and station are welded together. So be careful.”

  River frowned. “So it’s not just for people with talent?” “It’s mostly for power,” Lud said dryly. “But talent helps.” River nodded, his response automatic, his mind still lingered on question. But now wasn’t the time. The thought of a school, of learning what he could do—magic—still felt surreal, as though it belonged in a dream. As his mind caught up, he realized just how far that was. He had never left Norvil. Never even seen farther than what could be seen from his small corner over the tavern.

  He was out of place, trailing a stranger toward an uncertain future. But he had already made his choice. He turned his gaze forward, back to the gravel path. It felt good not to have to look over his shoulder. The weight of the past no longer pressed so heavily on his shoulders. And the further away from Norvil they travelled, the better he suspected things would get. Up ahead, a large boulder stood at the fork of the road, etched with names and numbers. River didn’t know what it was but Lud seemed to walk towards the boulder with purpose. Stopping before it, he pointed at it “These are directional stones and are common across the kingdom, used to point travelers toward nearby towns and cities.” He got closer, placing his finger on a specific name. The school’s on a mountain just outside the city.” River followed Lud’s finger and read it. Dougan, East, 220 Km. Damn that was far. Actually he didn’t know but it sounded far. River looked up and gave a small nod, unsure. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Wherever Lud went, River would follow—for now. The first day of the journey passed mostly in silence. Then, without warning, Lud stopped walking, turned to River, and said with a crooked smile, “We should get some rest. A lot has happened—and I do need my beauty sleep, after all.” Still reeling from everything that had transpired over the past twenty-four hours, River barely registered the man’s words but nodded in response. He followed as Lud walked toward a tree and opened his backpack. As soon as it was unzipped, Lud’s hands began to shimmer with the same strange essence River had seen before. Then, without warning, a large tent began unfolding from the darkness within the bag. Within moments, it hovered in midair, then drifted to the ground.

  River stared, wide-eyed, a small squeak escaping his throat. “What was that?” “Just a bit of air magic,” Lud replied, casually. He gestured toward the bag. “And this is an artifact made by the artificers at the school. It’s larger on the inside and makes transport a breeze—weight’s not an issue either.” Magic seemed handy, but impossibly confusing. River pressed his hands to his temples, trying to process what he’d just witnessed. “How does that even work?” “The bag? I’ve got no idea,” Lud said, shrugging. “Artificers are the ones who study runes and their applications. I’m a generalist—mostly water magic. You’ll learn all this when you start classes, so I won’t bore you with the details.”

  River’s mind buzzed with questions.

  Lud reached into the bag and pulled out a glass crystal ball.

  River tilted his head, studying it. It resembled the orb he’d seen in the white void—but it felt different. Larger, heavier, and clear like glass. It lacked the warmth, the pull, the sense of meaning. If anyone else had shown it to him, he might’ve mistaken it for a fancy marble. “This,” Lud said, holding it with care, “is to help us figure out your affinity. My affinity is water, which is why my eyes look the way they do. By channeling my soul, I can influence water around me. Think of it like a muscle—the more you practice, the stronger it gets.”

  Lud’s expression darkened slightly, his words now heavier. “But soul training alone is dangerous. You need to be careful. I’ll help you as best I can.” River hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing in. Magic sounded thrilling, but fear gnawed at him. What if I’m not good enough? He had no choice but to trust Lud, but the idea of being left behind again was terrifying. The thought of being useless was too much to bear. He took a deep breath, and with cautious steps, reached for the crystal ball. As soon as his fingers touched its smooth surface, warmth flooded him, but it wasn’t the same. This time, it was like the heat was coming from his own hands, pouring into the crystal. The more energy he gave, the colder he became, his head growing foggy and his body light-headed, like his energy was being drained away. The crystal began to glow—first green, then blue, then white, red, brown, and yellow. The colors shimmered, swirling in a mesmerizing loop. River was captivated; for a moment it reminded him of the festival dancers, their banners of color. As he let go, needle-cold ran through him, ribs to fingertips. Heat bled back after ten breaths.

  He looked up at Lud, eager for some explanation. Was this normal? Lud stood frozen, eyes locked on the orb, whispering under his breath. “This… this can’t be right.”

  River’s gut clenched. He’d seen that look before—when someone realized something terrible but couldn’t bring themselves to say it. Lud shook his head sharply, as if snapping out of a trance, and cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from the glowing crystal. “Take your hands off it. I need to check if this thing’s broken.” Reluctantly, River pulled his hands away, keeping his eyes on Lud. The older mage was troubled, his usual calm demeanor cracking. He placed his palm on the orb, and it lit up bright blue, casting a strange light on his face. Lud muttered under his breath, clearly agitated—though he was trying, and failing, to keep River from hearing.

  “No... this can’t be right. It’s got to be broken.”

  The words slipped out, quiet but heavy. For a moment, it was like the weight of the world had dropped onto Lud’s narrow shoulders—his posture stiffened, his eyes narrowed, every motion becoming deliberate, measured. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared. Lud forced a smile and straightened, slipping back into the familiar, confident figure River had come to know.

  The crystal still glowed faintly in his lap. Six affinities? He barely understood what that meant. Did it mean he could control every element? Was that even a good thing? He wasn’t sure if this made him powerful or just... dangerous. Mostly, he just hoped it didn’t change whatever deal he had with Lud. Lud met River’s eyes, his expression torn between disbelief and concern. “This... this is going to be more complicated than I thought.” “What is?” River asked, confused, his voice barely above a whisper. Lud let out a low chuckle. “Everything. You might be powerful, but that means it’ll be even harder to control. Keeping your soul intact? That’s going to be a battle.”

  Keeping his soul intact, he felt pretty intact right now. Lud’s tone shifted, becoming sharper, more focused. He adjusted his grip on the orb, his gaze hardening. “With time, you’ll learn how to choose which affinity to reveal. The one that’s most abundant in you will make the orb glow with it.” River watched him intently, and for the first time, he saw Lud’s expression harden. The man focused on the orb again, and River blinked as the colors shifted. No longer a chaotic swirl, the orb now shimmered with a faint, mossy green. Nature magic. The air around it seemed to shift too, a smell like fresh grass after a powerful rain creeping into River’s senses. River didn’t fully understand why Lud seemed so insistent on him hiding his affinities, but Lud’s certainty left no room for doubt. River didn’t want to stand out more than he already would, especially not among the nobles. His years on the streets had taught him the dangers of attracting attention. Lud met his gaze, his voice calm but intense. “You’ll need to learn this, River. If you don’t control your presence, your magic will betray you before you even realize it. At the very least, dull the other affinities.” River’s mind swirled with confusion. Like a newborn calf dropped into a pack of predators. Was this another one of Lady Luck’s cruel jokes? Magic, danger, control—nothing felt real.

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  Lud hadn’t steered him wrong yet. So, River nodded, a faint resolve settling in his chest. Lud rummaged through his bag again, pulling the crystal ball from his hands and tucking it into a leather satchel. He handed it to River. “Keep it close. Practice whenever you can. We still have a week before we reach the school.”

  Lud leaned back against a tree with a sigh. “You should sleep. I’ll keep watch and wake you when it’s your turn.” River ducked into the tent and collapsed onto the bedding. Despite its thinness, it was the softest thing he’d ever laid on. He closed his eyes, hoping for dreamless sleep—but it never came.

  He tossed and turned, his mind too restless to settle. When sleep finally seemed within reach, his body rejected it entirely, as if it couldn’t find peace. River jolted awake, drenched. Light crackled along his skin; a faint glow lifted like mist. Essence bled off him unchecked. He clamped down, breath held. Sweat ran hot, but the cold underneath was bone-deep; a shake took him until the leak guttered out.

  “Damn it, boy!” Lud hissed, wide-eyed. “You’ve got to get that under control, or you’ll hurt someone—or yourself.” River’s muscles tensed, his body soaked with sweat. Almost like he was drowning in something that had once come easily to him. All he wanted was the quiet numbness of sleep, a break from the reality pressing down on him. He groaned weakly, crawling toward the tent wall and pushing himself up with a grunt. “What was that?” His voice cracked, raw from the exertion. Lud stared at him a moment, distracted, like he was sorting through a dozen thoughts at once. Then he finally spoke.

  “Your soul chamber’s too new to handle that kind of power on its own. Think of your essence like a sandcastle. While you’re awake, you’re standing in front of it—shielding it from the wind. But the second your focus slips… you turn your back. And the storm hits.” Lud chuckled softly and scratched the back of his head. “Does that make sense?” River sighed, still struggling to grasp the situation. “A little. So, what do I do?” “You need to strengthen your soul,” Lud said, his tone serious now. “Fortify it using elemental techniques. It’s not easy,” he exhaled, “but you’ll learn.” River stared at him, feeling lost. The last time he’d seen his soul, he’d been knocked out cold. He figured closing his eyes was the best option. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to connect to something, anything. But nothing came. Silence. River cracked one eye open and shot Lud a frustrated look. “How the hell am I supposed to get my subconscious there?” Lud raised an eyebrow, his expression almost amused. “Good question. Focus on what feels familiar to you. What did you feel last time?”

  River tried to remember. The experience had been so overwhelming, it still felt like a dream. The colors. The vastness. Everything about it was unlike anything he’d ever known. He sighed and closed his eyes again. What the hell have I gotten myself into? But deep down, something stirred—a familiar warmth, a sense of rightness. Maybe he wasn’t completely useless after all.

  He focused—not on flowers or rivers, but on what he remembered: the white room, the pressure of raw essence, that overwhelming presence pressing in from every corner of the endless expanse.

  And then something deep within him stirred, tugging gently at his mind. It wasn’t rough or unpleasant. It was… natural. Like a door opening inward. He didn’t open his eyes, but somehow, he was there.

  No orb. No Lud.

  The air was heavy; his tongue tasted storm. The forest around him was impossibly green, alive in ways he couldn’t explain. The moss beneath his feet was soft and warm. In the distance, the gentle trickle of a stream reached his ears, and beyond it, a small campfire burned in a clearing. For a second, he imagined this was what having a home would have been like. Safe. Somehow, within his element. He had never experienced this before, yet it felt familiar in a way that made him feel grounded, as if he’d always known this place. He walked toward it. Kneeling by the fire’s edge, he focused. He reached out, unsure if he could truly command these elements—but he had to try. He focused. Fire’s heat curled toward him first — fierce, but not painful. The sensation steadied him, his heartbeat falling into rhythm with the fire’s flicker. The smoke didn’t choke his lungs. Instead, it wrapped around him like a shimmering veil, clinging to his skin like breath made visible. He locked onto that feeling, held it in his mind like an anchor at the bottom of the sea. Fire. The flames flared. They licked at his arms, wild and close — but never burned. They embraced him, a living heat, like a blanket stitched from sunrays. Was this what true connection felt like? Or was he just a vessel—something magic could pour into? He didn’t know. And right now, it didn’t matter.

  I need to understand this, he thought. But first… the others.

  He turned inward, reaching for something brighter. The sting of sunlight behind shut eyes. The searing brilliance just before you look away. “Light.” A flash answered. It burst from the sky—white and blinding—as if the air itself had ignited. Even with his eyes closed, it burned behind his eyelids, searing into his vision like he’d stared into the heart of the sun. Too much. He pulled away. “Let’s try something else…” Earth. He pictured mountains. The slow, steady thrum beneath the ground. The weight of something that had always been. The earth answered. The ground trembled beneath his feet. Trees groaned. The air seemed to hum with something ancient and deep—like a voice too old for language. He felt it all—the breath of stone, the heartbeat of soil. It was more than sound. It was presence. Timeless and real.

  Then — it was gone. Everything snapped away, and River blinked. He was back. Lying on the ground, sweat cooling on his skin. Lud was staring at him, his expression unreadable — focused in a way that made River’s stomach twist. “Well? Did it work?” the older mage asked. What did he mean? He had barely been in there for 5 minutes. His connection had been growing and just as soon as he began to understand what was happening it ended. River sat up, still trying to make sense of what he’d seen. “I just started.” Lud laughed, shaking his head. “Look at the sky. You’ve been sitting there with that blank look on your face for hours.” River frowned. To him it had seemed only minutes. Lud crouched beside him, expression softening. “At first, time passes slower inside your soul chamber. Your body slows it down to protect your mind—grasping the enormity and complexity of the elements would otherwise severely harm your mind. But it gets easier.” River nodded slowly. “Okay.” He stood, stretching. His limbs felt surprisingly loose and light, despite the lack of sleep. “We should get moving.”

  Lud cast a glance across the trees. “Yes, we should.” River slung the satchel over his shoulder, making sure the top of the crystal ball stuck out just enough so he could touch it as they walked. Lud raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist and a shimmer of light, the tent folded in on itself and vanished back into his bag—just as suddenly as it had appeared. They set off.

  River walked silently beside him, hand resting on the orb. He focused on the sensations from the clearing—Fire, Earth, Light, Fire, Earth, Light. The heat, the tremor, the blinding brightness. The crystal ball responded, pulsing with those colors longer than before—but then the others crept in again. Blue. Green. Yellow. Flickering at the edges. Still not perfect. “OW! Dammit!” River hissed, reeling back. He had walked straight into a branch. A fresh cut opened across his cheek, blood running warm down his skin. He wiped it with his fingers, smearing it on the grass beside him. Lud glanced back, amused. “Focused, I see. Good.” River growled, voice sharp. “You could’ve stopped me.”

  Lud’s smile faded, his tone turning cool and steady. “A hundred fish caught by someone else are worth less than one you catch yourself.”

  What did that even mean? River scowled. It wouldn’t have hurt so damn much if Lud had just stopped him from walking into the tree. He rubbed his cheek and kept moving. But none of that mattered. He had to learn this. No one else was going to do it for him. River turned his gaze back to the crystal ball. This time, he shut everything else out—the trees, Lud, even the pain. Just the campfire. The feel of its heat brushing his face. The low, steady rumble of the earth beneath his feet. The orb responded. Something stirring from within. Not just in the orb, but in himself. Like muscle remembering movement. Like light trying to find its shape. Faint red and brown lights flared to life, dancing gently inside the crystal. River’s eyes lit up, a grin tugging at his lips. “Look, I’m doing it!” But as soon as he glanced up at Lud, something slipped. He looked back down—and the colors were gone. Green, blue, red, yellow, white, and brown all flickered chaotically again, unfocused and wild. Lud chuckled. “You lost concentration.” River’s smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. “I noticed, thank you.” Lud turned his gaze back to the gravel path, still grinning. River huffed, finally tucking the crystal ball away in the satchel. His head ached from the effort—his thoughts felt like they’d been grinding against stone for hours. His eyes were dry and scratchy, and the cut on his cheek was beginning to swell. A bruise had formed beneath it, warm and throbbing when he touched it. Enough for today.

  For the first time in hours, he lifted his head and really saw the road: gravel rough and uneven—nothing like the kept lanes near Norvil. They were deep in no man’s land now. He drew a long breath and kept moving. The scent was like nothing he’d ever known—rich and earthy, laced with the sharp sweetness of pine and the damp of recent rain. No vomit. No stale beer. Just trees. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and for the first time in days… he smiled. Really smiled. Power was a frightening thing — wild, uncertain, and far beyond anything he understood. But more than fear, what drove him now was something else. He couldn’t afford to disappoint Lud.

  For the first time, someone was truly on his side.