The new [Mana Perception] and [Meditation] entries caught her eye - the system's clinical term for what had nearly broken her during her last meditation session. Seeing them listed alongside proper skills like Vayentha's made her throat tighten.
But the real shock was the affinity listing. Yesterday it had simply said "Dark". Now? "Shadow/Dark" - as if her breakthrough had refined the classification.
She touched the Shadow Bolt percentage, watching it ripple. Sixty-two percent. She wanted to go out and try again with her new insights in mana flow, but she also knows she can’t because it is far past closing of the training rooms.
Ayana exhaled sharply, dismissing the status screen with a flick of her fingers. The glowing numbers faded, but the thrill of progress still hummed in her veins. She flexed her hands—10.06 Spirit. More than she'd ever held at once.
Knowing she has achieved the required amount of spirit to be called an intermediate apprentice made it all the more annoying that she was still behind with her spell mastery. Thankfully she started her progressing journey with spell mastery as well, although a little late, she is moving forward in that department.
She turned to her bed, the thin mattress suddenly inviting. The night's efforts weighed on her—the hours of meditation, the strain of forming her first complete body pattern, the dizzying rush of mana perception. Her muscles ached in ways she hadn't noticed until now.
She peeled off her outer robe, the fabric sticking to her skin with dried sweat. The cool night air from the narrow window brushed over her as she sank onto the bed. "Just a few hours," she told herself, setting her pouch with the tome within easy reach. "Then breakfast, and—"
A yawn cracked her jaw before she could finish the thought.
Sleep took her like a shadow falling across the room.
Dreams came in fragments:
- The dark orb from her practice, but this time it held its shape, spinning lazily above her palm.
- Vayentha's piercing gaze, the older apprentice's lips moving but no sound emerging.
- And many more
She woke to pale dawn light and the distant clatter of pots from the kitchens below. For once, there was no grogginess—just clear-eyed alertness. She sat up, rolling her shoulders. No stiffness. No headache.
Her first conscious thought was for her Status, everything that happened last night felt like one of the dream snippets. The tattoo responded, before she'd fully formed even a question, and showed her, her status again.
Ayana grinned. " [Meditation] Mastery I has a nice ring to it.” The numbers glowed steadily, no flicker of depletion. For the first time since arriving at the tower, she didn't feel like she was running on fumes or lagging behind the curve.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the stone floor cool beneath her bare feet. The morning light streaming through her narrow window carried the faint scent of baking bread from the kitchens below—warm and yeasty, with an undercurrent of smoked fish. Her stomach growled in response.
She dressed quickly, pulling on a fresh apprentice robe and lacing her boots with practiced fingers. As she fastened her pouch to her belt, her fingers brushed against the tome inside. "Later," she promised herself. First, she needed food.
The corridor outside her room was already alive with murmured conversations and the shuffle of feet. Apprentices moved in clusters, their voices hushed but urgent. Ayana caught snippets as she passed.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
"—heard it’s about the strong classing—""—no, it’s the selection process, I’m telling you—""—must be something important when—"
The dining hall sprawled before her, its long wooden tables crowded with apprentices. The air hummed with the clatter of spoons against bowls, the occasional burst of laughter, and beneath it all, the low thrum of anticipation. Ayana grabbed a bowl of porridge from the serving line, the steam carrying the scent of honey and crushed nuts, and turned to find a seat.
That’s when she saw her.
Vayentha sat alone at a corner table, her back to the wall, a half-empty cup of tea cradled between her palms. The advanced apprentice’s sharp green eyes flicked up as if sensing Ayana’s gaze, and for a heartbeat, the noise of the hall seemed to dim.
Ayana hesitated. They hadn’t spoken since their last strained encounter, and the memory of Vayentha’s scrutiny—"You’re progressing faster than you should"—still prickled at her neck. But the tome in her pouch seemed to grow heavier. Vayentha had given it to her, after all.
Steeling herself, Ayana crossed the room.
Vayentha’s lips quirked as she approached. "You look like someone who actually slept for once," she said, tapping the bench opposite her. "Sit. Before someone interesting notices you hovering."
Ayana slid onto the bench, her porridge forgotten for the moment. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Vayentha took a slow sip of tea, her eyes never leaving Ayana’s. "It means congratulations are in order, Intermediate Apprentice." She stressed the title with a smirk. "But keep your voice down. The last thing you need is Liesel’s faction noticing your little... upgrade before the announcement, some interesting things are going to happen ."
Ayana’s spoon froze halfway to her mouth. "How did she—?"
Vayentha’s smile widened, as if reading the question in her face. "Your aura’s brighter. Not by much, but enough." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Eat fast. We need to talk before all hell breaks loose."
Ayana forced herself to take a bite of porridge, the honey-sweet taste turning to ash in her mouth as Vayentha's warning hung between them like a blade on a thread.
"What kind of 'hell' exactly?" she asked between mouthfuls, keeping her voice low enough that the nearby chatter drowned it out.
Vayentha's fingers traced the rim of her teacup, her nail—painted a deep, unnatural black—clicking against the ceramic. Before she could answer, the tower's announcement bell rang—three liquid chimes that resonated through the stone like water dripping in a cavern.
Every head turned as moisture condensed on the empty podium, coalescing into Master Wilson's form. Water cascaded from his slate-blue robes as he stepped forward, water orbs formed and then reshaped to lances.
"Apprentices," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of deep ocean currents. The water in every cup and bowl trembled in response. "You will assemble in the Grand Lecture Hall at noon. Attendance is mandatory."
A murmur started among Liesel's faction near the windows, but Wilson's gaze snapped toward them. The floating water orbs realigned with audible clicks, pointing at the group. Silence fell instantly.
"What will be discussed concerns the future of this tower and your place within it." His dark blue eyes, like sunlight through a deep ocean, swept the room. "Come prepared."
With that, his form dissolved back into water, the droplets crashing to the floor in perfect unison.
Reactions Rippled Through the Hall:
Liesel's Faction:The blond apprentice exchanged glances with his inner circle. "Missions," he murmured, flexing his fingers. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he studied the frozen droplets now melting on the floorboards. "Finally."
Hannah:
Near the back, Hannah slammed her tankard down, sending a drink sloshing over the table. "Bloody hydro-dramatics," she muttered, wiping ink-stained hands on her patchwork robe. Her goggles reflected the light as she started try reach for a rag to wipe them clean.
Percy
The gossipmonger had materialized beside the serving line, his usual smirk absent. He caught Ayana's eye and made a subtle warning motions with his hands.
Ysondre's Faction (Front Tables):The elegant apprentice straightened her silver-threaded sleeves, her faction immediately silencing. "Missions," she murmured, exchanging glances with her circle. One member nervously traced the water droplets condensing on their untouched breakfast.
Grimshaw's Cohort (Corner Table):The hulking apprentice cracked his knuckles, making the ice crystals nearest him vibrate violently. "About damn time," he growled, his faction members straightening with predatory anticipation.
Tasselia's Group (Near Exit):The petite faction leader didn't look up from her notes, but her fingers tightened around her pen. Ink swirled unnaturally in its well as she muttered: "Check your gear. Now."
Vayentha released Ayana's wrist, leaving frost patterns that melted instantly. "Notice how the water reacted to Liesel's lot?" She stood, her braid streaked with silver catching the light. "The tide's turning. And you, little shadow, need to learn to swim before noon."
Vayentha's fingers stilled against her teacup as the last whispers of Wilson's announcement faded. The dining hall buzzed with speculation, but her gaze remained locked on Ayana.
"Finish your porridge," she murmured, too quietly for others to hear. "You'll need the energy."
Ayana's spoon hovered. "For what?"
A flicker of amusement crossed Vayentha's face as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Let's just say... pack for rough terrain. And bring that tome." Her eyes flicked to Liesel's faction, where apprentices were already adjusting their belts and checking pouches with military precision. "Notice how the seniors aren't surprised? They've been waiting for this."
Across the hall, Ysondre's group huddled over a map, their postures tense. Grimshaw's cohort laughed too loudly, but their hands kept straying to their weapons. Even Tasselia's usually aloof faction had gone preternaturally still, their leader's fingers tracing urgent patterns in spilled tea.
"Whatever Wilson announces at noon," Vayentha continued, "it won't be a request. The tower's walls won't protect you where we're going." She stood abruptly, chair scraping against stone. "Meet me at the practice rooms in one hour. And Ayana?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Wear your darkest robes."
As she walked away, Ayana realized with dawning horror:
Every apprentice in the hall—from the newest novices to Liesel's elite—was preparing in their own way.