When Jackson woke up that morning, his being still fluttered with emotion and memory, waves of thought crashing over his mind as he tried to make sense of what he'd just seen. It wasn't that the dream was hard to understand. On the contrary, it had been rather simple. But the emotions it invoked inside him were unlike most other dreams. It hadn't been the first time he'd had dreams like that, either. In fact, they seemed to be happening more and more frequently, but every time, they just left him with more questions than answers.

  Why was it that he kept dreaming of that pair, Dara and Jiro? It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did, but the more he learned about magic, the less sense his recurring dreams made. Take Dara, for example. From what Rialu and Miss Aster had told Jackson, he seemed like a textbook Shaper, able to manipulate air—one of the four key elements that a Shaper could control in the material world. But then how had he managed to sprout wings? Or an eye on his hand? That seemed more in line with what Egos could do, didn't it? Maybe he was a Hybrid, supposedly like Jackson himself, yet he didn't fully understand what that entailed.

  The question that burdened his mind the most, however, was what the bloody hell was a Cruthru?

  Keen on answers, Jackson rose from his bed, noting the dim light of the winter months streaming through his window at this early hour. He turned toward where he had laid the book he borrowed from the library the day before, the first volume of Exnos' Histories, and began flipping through it. Though the book primarily focused on historical events—mainly those pertaining to magic—it did however contain significantly shorter sections on things such as plant life, social norms, food, and animals, all of which lent context and elaboration to some of those events. Following the contents page, Jackson turned to the start of the Creatures section, scrambling through it for any mention of a Cruthru.

  After a half-hour of searching, Jackson gave up. Admittedly, he felt silly for finding himself so concerned and curious. It was just a dream. Of course, that thing didn’t exist; it was just a figment of his imagination. But that feeling lingered in the pit of his stomach as he got ready for school, choosing to fly to the academy rather than walk to clear his head. It felt natural to Jackson, even though it had only been a few days since he first learned how to fly. The wind rushed against his face, dashed through his hair, curled between his fingers. It felt like he belonged—like he was one with the skies. Yet alas, he had to ground himself when he arrived at the academy.

  Today was another day of mixed classes: swordsmanship in the morning, some sort of magic in the afternoon. Miss Aster had left his father, Ulric, a message the day before, telling him that Jackson would be attending both Ego and Shaper classes in an attempt to hone his magic and win over Rialu so that he could be awarded funding for his academics. That evaluation wasn’t far away—only two weeks—and Jackson needed to be prepared.

  It was still mandatory for him to attend his swordsmanship classes despite that looming deadline, so that’s what Jackson would do. After all, had it not been for Mr. Landy, he never would have discovered his magic, nor would he have gotten the chance to pursue it further. Jackson strode into the classroom wearing his beat-up leather tunic, intent on not getting embarrassed by showing up in his mage’s robes again, before taking his seat next to Elquire.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” Elquire began. “Quite a nice day, is it not?”

  “That it is, Elquire, that it is.”

  Jackson looked him in the eyes for a brief moment, seeing a slight tinge of awkwardness in them. “Also, you don’t have to call me ‘Mr.’”

  “Yes, sorry, I simply need to adjust my speech a little.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like the world will end if you mess it up once or twice.”

  Elquire only nodded in response, perfect posture turning toward the front of the class as Mr. Landy took his usual spot behind the podium and began to outline the criteria for the day.

  Basic training, it seemed—just revision on blocks, basic stances, and a parry technique or two.

  The class headed to the usual training arena, the rundown colosseum becoming a familiar sight to Jackson the more he saw it. Normal pairings had started arising in the class, Elquire and Jackson being among them as they all split off and began their typical practice. It never ceased to amaze him just how textbook-perfect all of Elquire’s movements were—robotic in their precision but still as fluid as water. Jackson could try his hardest—and he did, for the most part—but he could only barely keep up with Elquire in training, let alone if it ever came time for them to properly spar. And it didn’t help that he had other things on his mind.

  “Is everything okay, Mr.—” Elquire began before swiftly correcting himself. “Jackson. Just Jackson.”

  Jackson allowed himself a small smirk at Elquire’s correction.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about something.”

  “Would it be impolite to pry?”

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  “Nah. Not if you don’t mind me sounding a little cookoo.”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Elquire, have you ever heard of a Cruthru?”

  Elquire stopped his training briefly, seemingly deep in thought. A few moments later, agency returned to him as he arrived at his answer.

  “No, I don’t believe I have. What is it?”

  “That’s the thing—I have no idea. I just heard it in a dream. For some reason, it makes me feel uneasy. But at the same time...”

  Jackson could feel it now—the other emotion that was clouding his thoughts. The confusion and uneasiness weren’t uncommon for his recurring dreams, but this feeling was. Pride. Whatever the reason for that, it troubled him more than he cared to admit. Elquire seemed to acknowledge Jackson’s reluctance to share and didn’t push any further. For that, Jackson was thankful. Training didn’t feel as long as it used to, which Jackson chalked up to his wandering mind. It had become routine for him to head to the cafeteria after his morning classes alongside Elquire, but he wasn’t at all accustomed to the red-haired Ellion hovering around him.

  “Jackstar! Long time no see, man,” Ellion exclaimed. “It’s been like two days since you went to class! What’s gotten into you?”

  Ellion turned his attention to Elquire, giving him a slight scowl.

  “Oh, hello, lesser El. Stop stealing all Jackstar’s precious time.”

  A small snicker pierced Jackson’s generally annoyed demeanour at the sight of Elquire’s positively mortified expression. “First off, El, I haven’t been skipping—we just have different schedules. I’m a swordsman, remember? Plus, Miss Aster’s got me taking Shaper classes as well. I’m a very busy man, my time is worth a pound of gold.”

  Ellion blinked a few times, staring at Jackson as if he had briefly started speaking another language.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, confused. “Did you say you were taking Ego and Shaper classes? So you’re a Hybrid?”

  “And a swordsman,” Jackson added. “Why does everyone keep saying stuff like that and expecting me to understand what it means? I haven’t even been awakened for a week yet. I could use some elaboration every now and then.”

  “Gods, okay, no need to get so torn up over it, Your Highness.” Ellion sighed. “Hybrids can use two forms of magic, see? All the different hybrids have different names. I’m pretty sure a mage who’s both an Ego and a Shaper is called an Inferion. Hybrids are rare, but an Inferion is the most common.”

  Jackson pondered the information for a short while before turning back to Ellion. “Doesn’t that, hypothetically, make me a lot more powerful than most mages?”

  “Ehhh… only on paper. See, Jackstar, people only have one pool of energy that they use for magic. When you’re a Hybrid, that pool is split equally between the two forms of magic. So if a regular Shaper and an Inferion had the same amount of starting energy, the Inferion could only use half of theirs for Shaper magic. They wouldn’t be able to use it for as long, or as powerfully, if they burned all their energy in one go like a regular Shaper could.”

  “So, what, I’m actually weaker than most mages?”

  “Again, my dear friend, it depends. If a Hybrid has a larger pool of energy to tap into, then the effect is less noticeable. For Inferions, if they have a very useful Ego magic that they can use in tandem with their Shaper one, then they can be pretty wicked—not to mention the split in energy allocation matters less if you’re using up both your Ego and Shaper sources anyway.”

  “So, if I understand you right—”

  “—A difficult feat—”

  “—then I can potentially be stronger than most mages.”

  “Or potentially weaker.”

  “He is not weaker,” Elquire chimed in, his voice firm. “I’m sure of it. It is clear in his presence.”

  Ellion shot a look of curiosity at Elquire before turning his gaze back to Jackson.

  “We’ll see about that, little El. I’m not letting bird boy here one-up me.”

  While Jackson didn’t appreciate the nicknames Ellion seemed fond of giving him and Elquire, he had to admit he was coming to appreciate the strange boy. He respected Elquire, too, of course—he was a friend—but he was far above Jackson when it came to swordsmanship. To Jackson, Ellion seemed something of an equal. A rival, albeit a friendly one.

  The boys finished their meals and headed off to their respective classes, Elquire parting ways for some literary course while the other two arrived in Miss Aster’s class. They chatted idly for a while before Louise took a seat next to Jackson, surprising them both. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow as if to say, is there an issue? Jackson mustered a smile and tried to strike up a conversation, but it was difficult with Ellion constantly chatting his ear off. Eventually, though, he seemed to tire himself out for a moment.

  “So,” Louise began before Jackson could get a word out, “I hear you're an Inferion. Is that true?”

  “Uh, yes. I am.”

  Jackson hesitated, rummaging through his brain for something to say in return.

  “Your constructs the other day—”

  “What about them?” Louise interrupted, speaking quickly and firmly.

  “Um, they were amazing,” he managed to say in a half-whisper, slightly taken aback.

  Louise’s face softened for a moment, her expression painted with an apologetic hint.

  “Thank you. Your flight was quite unique, too.”

  “It was okay,” Ellion chimed in. “But it’s got nothing on my illusions.”

  “I see my dolt of a brother has attached himself to you,” Louise stated dryly. “My condolences.”

  “Yeah, he’s been quite attached, I’m not sure—” Jackson paused, cutting himself off. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you say he’s your brother?”

  “Younger brother, yes.”

  “By like, ten minutes,” Ellion interjected.

  “Thirty, actually,” Louise jabbed.

  Jackson wasn’t sure why he hadn’t pieced it together sooner. They looked vaguely similar, sure, but their magic and personalities were completely different. The siblings continued bickering with one another until the start of class, when Miss Aster took her place at the front of the room, stepping in through a tear in space. Jackson was still bitter about being forced to walk to the library after she had declined to portal him there, jokingly claiming her abilities were too powerful to be used ‘frivolously.’ At least, she was probably joking. He didn’t want to consider that she wasn’t, given how often she did exactly that.

  Just before the class began, Miss Aster locked eyes with Jackson. He shivered. Then it subsided. He didn’t know why, but something about the way she looked at him for that brief flash put him off. Was it anger? Regret, maybe? Possibly, but it was almost seemed like… pity?

  He pushed the thought aside—something he was becoming quite adept at doing, it seemed—and turned his attention to the lesson at hand.