Energy thrummed through the air, vibrating softly with the low hum of tick… tock… tick… tock… A delicate cadence, building, weaving itself into a subtle harmony. Then the magic unfurled. Light and sound coalesced into a shimmering pulse that leapt toward its appointed target. It floated with tender precision, brushing against the sleeper’s consciousness like morning sun, rousing the young man gently from dreams into the waking world.
His blond eyelashes fluttered open, and deep violet eyes brightened with a spark of excitement. With a swift, fluid motion, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A flick of his wrist and an adorned wand leapt from the nightstand into his hand. It was a thing of simple, mesmerizing beauty. A black, glistening handle carved into the elegant shape of a mythical bird, its bone-white tip spiraling with a golden pattern that seemed to shimmer and pulse with its own quiet magic.
With practiced efficiency, he reached inward, drawing upon the well of power nested deep within his soul. A circle of light bloomed at the tip of his wand, a delicate lattice of glowing runes, into which he poured a stored spell formula for cleanness from his mind vault. As the enchantment took hold, a subtle shimmer coursed through his blond hair, which lifted and settled anew with a freshness that seemed almost alive.
Without pause, he moved to the next spell. This time, he wove raw power into the threads of sympathetic sorcery. Sparks of energy leapt from his core and raced toward his mage’s robe. The garment lifted as if sentient, twisting and curling through the air before settling behind him. He raised his arms, and the robe obeyed, sliding over his shoulders and fastening itself with golden ropes that cinched gracefully around his chest and waist, embracing him like a partner.
Three stars gleamed on his mantle, each one a testament to his mastery over sorcery, while six interlocking circles etched across his chest proclaimed his command over wizardry. Resting upon his shoulder was a small, exquisitely crafted dragon of gold and white, its wings folded. Emblem of his professorship at Vo’Teol’s Academy of Magic, symbol of authority and wisdom that he wore with quiet pride.
Aren studied his lean form in the mirror, eyes tracing the alignment of patterns on his robe. Satisfied that every detail was perfect, he lifted his perfume and brushed it lightly across his skin. Today was special, and nothing less than perfection would do.
He turned towards his large desk, picking up a neat stack of papers he had prepared the night before, each sheet carefully arranged for his thesis dissertation. The crisp edges and precise handwriting reflected not only diligence but intent. Every word, every formula, a reflection of his mastery. As he held them, a quiet hum of anticipation coursed through him, mingling with the shimmer of magic caused by other professors' morning routines.
With a subtle pull of his will, the papers warped and dissolved from his hands, vanishing into the hidden subspace tethered to the black gem embedded in the brooch on his robe. He allowed himself a satisfied nod before walking through his study, passing by shelves with hundreds of books and scrolls on the way.
His collection had grown tremendously since he learned the six-circle spells. One had allowed him to absorb knowledge directly into his mind. Passing through the door leading to the professors’ section of the school, he left his room behind, the quiet hum of mana always present.
A bright smile greeted him on the face of a pudgy sixteen-year-old boy. “Professor Aren!” the teen exclaimed, quickly falling in step behind the professor. “The spell worked well for me today!”
Aren returned the smile with a nod. “Same here, Tom. Harmonizing the trigger with ethereal fission did wonders for timing accuracy. And using a vitalic component with emotive resonance helped the spell better gauge the right amount of energy for awakening.”
“I’m unworthy of your insights, Professor. To think you would choose someone like me as your aide,” Tom said, brushing aside his too-long brown bangs.
“I’ve told you multiple times to stop talking like that. I chose you because your specialization and academic achievements best fit my research, and because you would benefit from it as well. I don’t care about your background,” Aren said as he watched young students already practicing flight outside the windows. He smiled as he noticed some students using the boots he had designed and released last year. Those were really starting to catch on with young battle mages.
Aren looked back at his aide, who had an appreciative smile on his face, and asked, “Have you considered which sorcery you will practice after you get your full star for sympathetic?”
“I did, sir! I believe that mnemonic sorcery would synchronize best with sympathetic spells. Combining memory with action would allow me to automate tasks and store knowledge much more efficiently,” Tom said, raising his voice a little with excitement.
“Yes, well, you do not need to follow in my footsteps that closely. Also, consider the emotive branch. In combination with sympathetic, it allows for quite potent enhancements. Some of the most complex wizardry can only be cast with the mind reinforcement sorcery,” Aren informed his student.
“I know, sir, but I hoped I could learn to do without it, like you.”
“I’m an exception. I’ve seen that your three-circle spells are already straining your young mind. I fear you’ll really struggle when you reach the fifth circle. I wouldn’t want you to face backlash just because you set your goals too high.” Aren shook his head, his achievements had already led to more than one promising student reaching too far too fast.
“I will think about it, sir,” the young student said, mollified.
“I will not dictate your path… It would make me a hypocrite. But remember that until you master a path of sorcery, you cannot move on to a new one. I will be able to provide the necessary aspects for you to absorb into your core in either case.” The young professor shrugged before continuing. “Are you going to watch today's dissertation?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Tom said excitedly. “Could you tell me the topic already, sir? I know it has something to do with the harmonic calculations you were doing throughout last semester. I know you asked me to document the readings from your local leyline sensors often enough.”
“Are you sure you don't want to continue guessing?” Aren smirked. Tom had been bothering him about it since he started. At this point, it was becoming a bit of a game for him.
“I don’t know anymore! I was so certain that you would synchronize a leyline to power some far-reaching spell,” Tom said, slumping and hanging his arm on his student bag.
“And I told you, that was unrealistic. If anyone managed it without turning into a blob of ether, they would steal my fire at this school within a day.” Aren laughed. “You should hurry to the classroom. We will not have time to meet in the lab after the big event today. I have some plans.”
“Understood, sir. Are you already planning a celebration?” Tom asked.
Aren nodded. “Something like that. Going to see some old friends.”
“From your adventuring days!?” Tom’s eyes lit up.
“Indeed. If you pass this year’s exam and become an official postgraduate student, I will introduce you.”
“Thank you, sir!” Tom bowed. “I will see you next week then, sir.”
“Take care. I have some preparations to do now.”
“Goodbye, Professor.”
Being left alone at his destination, Aren turned to open a giant double wooden door. It was engraved with the names of every archmage who had been recognized as one by their fellow mages in this hall. Today, his name would join theirs, and he would be celebrated as the youngest archmage in history. He was already known throughout the kingdom as the youngest six-circle holder, just one step away from the human limit of wizardry.
Maybe he would be the youngest person to master all seven sorceries as well. Though even he recognized the loftiness of that goal, being only in his second year of acclimating to divinative sorceries. At this point, he could only cast the simplest spells, those that allowed him to find lost objects or highlight paths to destinations he already knew. True truth-seeing and future prediction were far beyond him for now.
He took in the vast hall slowly, the musky scent of aged wood filling his nostrils. The magic centuries old seemed to hang in the air, echoes of spells long cast that had shaped history whispering through the walls. This was the first place where time itself had ever slowed, almost to a standstill, a place where dragon fire had been stolen from the greedy claws of sorcerers once considered the most powerful in the world. It was also the place where the first true resurrection had ever taken place, a miracle that had stunned even the most learned mages of the age.
He started preparing instantly. Blackboards floated into place behind the speaking stand, formulas and diagrams forming themselves in neat chalk strokes. Sheets of paper drifted through the air, arranging themselves on the benches reserved for professors for easy reading during the presentation. From his sub-space, tools and crystals emerged, settling on the wooden desks in meticulous order, each one ready to display the recordings of his experiments and their results.
Finally, he turned his attention to the centerpiece, the culmination of all his labor, the proof that would make everything undeniable. He drew his wand and slowly traced seven interconnected ritual circles on the floor. It was a sister branch of wizardry, a runic spell designed to channel energy through seven resonating crystals placed within it. Each crystal was connected to a ley line. Not all of them had been installed with the approval of local authorities, but he had never been one to be stopped by petty politics.
He was meticulous, spending hours ensuring every part of the array was flawless. He didn’t even notice the crowd slowly gathering in the room as he worked. At last, he traced the final formation in the center of the spell, the formation that would channel energy from all seven crystals and serve as the final proof.
When he finally stopped to admire his work, the room was already nearly full. Glancing at the sun and casting a quick divination spell, he realized there were only twenty minutes before the presentation would begin. Then, as if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. He looked around, but among the few professors and the many students, no one seemed to notice.
Quietly, he stepped aside to survey his work and retrieved a quick ration from his sub-space. He had not bothered to eat these since he stopped adventuring, but nothing could spoil in there. He went over every detail again in his mind as he munched on salted crackers and jerky, feeling a bit embarrassed.
The final minutes passed quickly. Then the room fell silent as the only living archmage, the beacon of light, the headmaster of the most prestigious school of magic in the world, entered. Though he was over eighty years old, he bore the appearance of a middle-aged man, with long raven hair and deep scarlet eyes. Whether his appearance was an illusion, the effect of a vitalic spell, or the result of alchemy, no one knew. No one was brave enough to ask.
His robes, like a fragment of the night sky itself, shimmered and fluttered as he settled into the center chair in the audience. There was an echo of a smile on his lips, faint but undeniable, as if centuries of knowledge and power resonated in it. His calm voice filled the room. “When I admitted you to this school, I knew I would one day see you here. Even then, I did not expect it to be after only a few short years. I doubt it with your record, yet even I wonder whether, in your ambition, you have summoned us here merely to display a parlor trick.”
The air seemed to hum in response, as if the very magic of the school itself acknowledged his words, leaving every student and professor alike suspended in a mixture of fear and reverence.
A cheeky grin spread across Aren’s face, brimming with confidence. The time to reveal the result of his hard work had finally come, and he was ready to step forward, proving that the only path from here led straight to his success. He felt the hum of power in the air intensify, as if the world itself had shifted its focus to this hall. With a flourish, he bowed to his audience, and his presentation began.
“Thank you for coming on this auspicious day. I greet thee with utmost respect, Archmage And’dew. My dear professor and colleagues, and, of course, our bright young students,” he said, rising from his bow. “Let me begin with a question for those who dream of taking their place among us. Who can tell me what causes the energy we call mana to produce the effects we call magic?”
Instantly, many student’s hands jumped into the air, yet no one dared to speak out of turn. He saw his aide among them but winked at him and chose another student. With a wave of his wand, which he did just for showmanship, a beam of spotlight fell on a young female student wearing a third-year badge.
“For magic to exist, it’s required for mana to achieve correct resonance. The basic form of all magic, sorcery, occurs when one of the seven types of resonance is applied to mana. Wizardry and runic formations use formulas that emulate specific resonances to reproduce effects achieved with sorcery, while making them controllable, understandable, and repeatable.”
“Thank you. Indeed, the center of all magic is resonance, either artificial, one occurring naturally in the aligned cores of living beings, or, very rarely, through a combination of strong will and emotions,” Aren said.
“Yet there are what we theorize as sourceless magics, anomalies that occur seemingly without any form of source that we would usually expect, be it beast or person. Can anyone give me an example of such an occurrence and the prevailing theories?” Aren asked.
This time, the number of hands fell sharply. Even a few of the professors who had been casually reading through his primer looked interested. Some people in the hall were already looking at him with hostility, as some of the acts that had lately started being questioned were previously attributed to the many faiths that spanned the lands.
Tom’s hand was still in the air, although he was looking around uncertainly. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Aren pointed at his young aide and prompted him to speak.
Tom looked a bit unwell at the attention but straightened and raised his voice. “While, as of now, there isn’t enough proof to validate any of the theories, the latest occurrence of such an event happened in the sands of Ayru. Large swaths of the desert suddenly turned into the highest purity of crystals, with alignment to the positive vitalic resonance.
“As of now, there are three prevailing theories. The most popular one among the masses is that the local deity of the sun is responsible. The validity of such claims cannot be ascertained and seem deeply rooted in local politics. Another theory, grounded in current knowledge, is that some kind of creature, likely an ancient sand worm, either died deep below the sands or, for another reason, expended enough will to cause such a change. As of yet, none of the digs have found anything that would support such a claim.
“Finally, the most unsupported theory is that it was caused by the expenditure of energy in our leyline. The only proof for it is a measured dip in the density of energy and detected malfunctions of our enchantments. Another recent example is that one of the islands in the Akz’ens Archipelago simply floated away without a known source of magic of this magnitude. The theories that followed this occurrence ten years ago were similar to the first two, as there is not a research outpost in that land’s leyline.”
Aren nodded, “Thank you, Tom. Now can anyone tell me what this is?” He held up a bright orb up that seemed to shimmer with energy.
Again, arms raised up, and he selected a student at random. “This is a resonance measurement orb. Every student uses one to identify their core natural resonance and its strength.”
“Indeed, and this is a modified version of one. What it measures is instead the resonance of local mana…”
He didn’t get to finish his next words, as one of the professors rose. “That’s useless! Local mana doesn’t have resonance on its own!”
Aren was expecting this from one of his biggest opposers. “Thank you for the explanation, Professor Aubry. I’m sure none of us heard that before. Still, I would have you abide by the rules of this hall. Time for questions and comments will come later.”
“Hpmh, one of the rules is also that the speaker has to prove worthy of this hall. Yet all I see is some child pretending…” Now it was the professor's turn to be interrupted.
White ropes of light settled around the outspoken professor, and suddenly no one could hear him. The professor's face went red in anger and indignation, and he pulled out his own wand, but he was shocked as his dispelling magic did nothing. The professor’s magic frayed into purple dust as it tried to touch the offending power.
“Don’t worry, it’s just simple silence wizardry, although I added a little something special that makes it harder to dispel,” Aren said, a smug smile rising on his face.
Professor Aubry raised his wand, and it started to shine with violent red energy, only to be snuffed out by a purple beam of light. The archmage spoke with a single finger raised in the direction of the still red-faced professor.
“Aren, that was a truly spectacular weave of both wizardry and sorcery. It seems your skill is improving at a tremendous rate. Aubry, by disrespecting this hall, you not only disrespect the speaker but me and everything this academy stands for. You should remember that it was I who approved this dissertation. I believe that until you are able to get rid of that silencing spell, you should stay silent and rethink if your behaviour is worthy of your station,” the archmage said.
Aren thanked the archmage with a nod and continued, “As I was saying, this orb is attuned to local mana. Now, even with it, we would never see any actual change, but if I walk to this specific spot and cast certain wizardry…”
The young professor went on as he created three-circle wizardry. “Can anyone tell me what this does?”
Another student answered, “The first two circles are amplification ritual, but the final one I’m not sure about. It seems to do something with local mana.”
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“Indeed, that’s correct. This wizardry takes local mana and amplifies it, and when I place this measurement orb in it, while standing in this exact spot…” As he did so, the orb suddenly lit up in a golden glow that filled the circle with radiance, casting shimmering patterns across the floor. Where it touched the ground, the illusion of plant life sprung forth as if remembering something that was.
The hall looked at it in total silence, as Aren asked, “Can anyone guess what happened in this exact spot? Sometime exactly 30 years ago?”
He saw one of the post-graduate students raise his hand. “If I understand correctly, this would be the seven-circle spell, the Light of Life? Or at least its imitation?”
“That’s close. What you are seeing is an echo of the spell cast thirty years ago that changed the world’s outlook on light magic. This is what this hall, and this exact spot, remembers as an occurrence significant enough that the magic itself remembers it. The spell our beloved headmaster used to attain his title is forever etched within the magic itself.”
The air in the room changed as attention shifted completely to the stage. Even the archmage looked at the light with interest. Aren dispelled his spell and started moving to a different spot, slowly walking down the stairs to the center of the hall.
“Now, in the architectural records, we can find that this hall was enlarged multiple times in the past. The original stage was somewhere closer to where I am right now. Now, this requires a bit more precision, but let me show you the moment everyone in this academy venerates.”
He raised his wand and this time drew a five-circle spell. The first three circles were the same as before. “The two new circles create a filter that looks for certain frequencies in the magic before it’s fed to the amplification ritual. Now, I shall show you the spell of the first four archmages.”
Without further ado, he placed the orb into his spell, and a deep, multicolored light filled the hall. The choir spell of the first four archmages of the world was far more esoteric, defying any simple cause-and-effect explanation.
Everyone who the light touched could feel their core more intimately than ever, their natural affinity singing in their minds and hearts. Yet, this was still just an echo of that magic which brought forth the first true mages and gave all of humanity their cores, when previously only a few chosen humans could cast any magic. This spell, which changed the world seven hundred years ago, was to this day something unprecedented and nearly worshiped.
The four archmages, who perished that day as the leyline they touched consumed them, became part of the legend woven into this hall’s memory. The audience’s response was varied, some looked simply in shock and awe, some had tears running down their cheeks, and a few even prayed. Of course, a few still looked on with scepticism.
As he dispelled his spell and the light dimmed, many looked at him with regret, to which he chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that when all is said and done, we will spend many hours researching history here together.”
Walking back onto the stage, he said, “Now that we are done with the introduction to the topic, let me present you with my thesis. The world itself is alive, it remembers, and it has will. Of course, it is in a wholly different dimension than ours, one that I still don’t understand, but I believe I have enough proof to demonstrate it.”
The whiplash of the audience was nearly audible. He could see the disbelief, shock, and skepticism on their faces increase tenfold. Yet the only one who mattered to Aren, the Archmage And’dew, looked on with continued attention.
“With this simple exercise, I have shown that local mana holds echoes of great spells. These can be found in this great hall, which has witnessed many achievements that changed the world. Others can be found at sites where great battles between powerful magics took place. Yet that, on its own, doesn’t prove that the world itself has a greater memory. For that, we need to perform another experiment,” Aren said, moving to one of the crystals he had prepared.
“This crystal is synchronized with another in a different location. As you know, we often use them for two-way communication. Now, for what I am going to show next, we will need a bit more sophisticated wizardry.” As he said this, he drew six circles in the air and manually added a much more complex formation to them than before. He knew that most professors in the audience could guess that most of this consisted of mnemonic formations combined with some divination ones and a bit of emotive elements.
As the magic was completed, he let it connect with the crystal before him. The crystal floated into the middle of the formation, and a circular plane of whiteness formed in the air. Then the plane shifted, and the whiteness resolved into a scene of a landscape filled with trees and a giant lake.
Suddenly, the image started to move. The water rippled and broke as a colossal shape stirred beneath the surface. Then, with slow, deliberate grace, a giant being rose into the air. Its smooth, pale body shimmered with patches of translucent skin, beneath which veins of soft light pulsed like distant stars. Strands of glistening mucus clung to its form, scattering rainbow hues through the air as they caught the light. Long, flowing fins framed its head and back, gleaming like strands of molten silver.
Then the creature opened its mouth and released a screeching, high-pitched roar that threatened to deafen everyone in the audience. On the viewing plane, the being moved, and a multitude of magical effects began happening at once. Beams of light turned the trees into crystal, the earth trembled, and water rose into vortexes reaching high into the sky. Many smaller amphibians rode the water, and the giant creature, together with its kind, floated forward into the distance.
“I’m sure our Monsterology division already knows what that is, but for the sake of everyone, I will explain. What you saw was the first apocalyptic monster we have records of. In its passing, it destroyed two kingdoms long ago as it floated to different lakes on another continent. Until now, it was only theorized that its origin was the Deeproot Valley.”
“Now, let me show you a legend of our own, the time our great kingdom repelled the offensive of the Xardis Empire and the end of the first lich,” Aren said, connecting his spell to a different crystal and tweaking the formations responsible for filtering out the exact event he was looking for.
On the viewing plane a great battlefield was shown, knights clad in golden light were obliterating waves of ghouls and skeletons. Mages riding legendary pegasuses were throwing a multitude of spells at the hordes of undead. And in the center offensive heroes only known in legends were led by the great hero king Arlean.
Two tall twins holding giant tower shields were blocking the advance of a colossal undead, while an archer with an ivory bow shot forth arrows of light that held at bay a being seemingly made of living shadow. The legendary archmage, who had been the headmaster in his lifetime, was preventing the lich from casting his cursed magic, and his daughter was keeping the death fog from touching any of the heroes.
Finally, the hero king, along with his two sons, was fighting the final champion death knight and his dullahans. Their exchanges were so fast that only experienced combat mages in the audience were able to follow. The king’s final parry transitioned into a counterattack as his blade shone with elemental light and cut through the monster.
Then, with a final shout, he swung at the lich, and a wave of multicolored light cut through the battlefield, leaving gorges of molten earth in its wake. The lich tried to raise a wall of bones, but it was destroyed by a beam of light from the archer, and its energy shield collapsed thanks to the combined effort of father and daughter.
As the lich disintegrated in the wave of energy, some of the crowd started to cheer. To them, this was an event they had only heard of before in legends. While, after five hundred years, the stories had grown in proportion, the greatness of the deed remained the same. Aren decided to give them a moment, and he slowly let the magic dissipate.
“I’m sure we will have time to go over the many great events in the future, and the historians in the halls are already salivating. But I believe there are those among the audience who will say I have only shown sites where great magic took place.” Looking at Aubry, he let his spell finally dissipate as he cut the bit of sorcery he had held all this time.
“Maybe Professor Aubry here would be willing to provide me with an event he would like to see that isn’t a site of great power. Still, I would prefer if it were an event of some significance and within this continent, as I’m still unable to show what you ate for breakfast.”
There was a light chuckle as the professor rose, red-faced, but after a moment he smiled. “Then show me the wedding of our Prince Alemor with the prophet of Ayru.”
Aren knew the professor would choose an event where barely any magic took place. Ayru was a kingdom that strictly limited and controlled magic, and especially their magic-hating Prophet-King wouldn’t allow anything magical at his wedding.
“Now, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint, Professor,” Aren said. “This will take a bit of time, so bear with me.”
Aren removed one of the crystals in his central formation for the moment and started crafting circles in the air. One, two, three, four, five, six, and then seven. When the final circle was completed, the crowd sat in stunned silence again. Even the outspoken professor sat down and watched as Aren slowly filled the circles with formations: six interconnected circles, all linking to the central seventh circle.
When his magic took effect, the same viewing plane appeared. This time, it shifted through hundreds of images within seconds. Beads of sweat appeared on Aren’s head from the concentration. The crystal connected to the leyline was now feeding him everything it knew about the location he had given coordinates for. He hoped that, with time, he would be able to query for a specific time, but for now, this was the only way he could find what he was looking for.
When he finally found the event, he let out a sigh of relief, since he only knew how the prince looked from the paintings. The shifting images stopped, and a scene of two men exchanging cups filled with golden liquor played out. A deep, rumbling song resounded in the space as he held the image until the couple tied golden strings around each other’s wrists and walked up the steps to the top of an ivory tower, fully bathed in the noon sun.
When he dismissed his magic, he looked at Aubry and asked, “Satisfied?”
“Hmph, I guess that proves there is some truth in your claim about the world’s memory, but that doesn’t say anything about its will,” the professor huffed grudgingly.
“True, that is the next part. Still, let me explain exactly where most of the world’s memories are stored. While great events can be viewed through local mana, something as specific and mundane as this can only be found in the leyline. What you witnessed is, in a way, the next step of divination magic, accessing the world’s memories instead of someone’s to seek the truth. This crystal here is connected with a bigger sibling that I designed myself to let me interact with our leyline.”
Aren noticed the headmaster looking at him with an unusual expression. It wasn’t one of skepticism or admiration. Instead, he seemed worried and thoughtful. Still, it didn’t seem disapproving, so he continued.
“As Professor Aubry reminded us, my thesis had a second part. This proof will be a little different. I will show you the results of my observations over the last two years. Do you remember the sudden eruption of the volcano in the northern mountain range? The local mages who specialized in deep earth examination were certain that the tectonic plates would not cause an eruption for the next few hundred years. To this day, there is still no explanation for why it occurred.”
“Let me show you this recording of the leyline here at the time,” Aren said as he pulled one of the measurement tools he had and interfaced with it to display readings from back then. Colors in shades of deep brown and red vibrated through the hall. “This shows clear elemental resonance that we can attribute to deep earth and fire resonance. Now here are records from six months before the event.”
More displays materialized in the air, each one showing weaker and weaker shades before turning into a more natural and steady color of light. “Now, before you ask why we have never seen anything like this before in the leyline, it’s the same reason we cannot see anything from local mana without amplification rituals. The resonance is too weak to be differentiated from its surroundings otherwise. If you scroll to page seven of the primer, you will see the formations used in my onsite devices.”
Aren switched the showcased recordings to ones that displayed shades of blue, purple, and green. To the side of each recording, an increasingly complex formation appeared. “Now let me show you a different example I recorded just three months ago in the Akz’ens Islands. With those more recent results, I was able to apply a sorcery discerner and approximate those formations. As you can see, those are very sophisticated generic aquatic animal influencers. And for the past two months, we’ve been seeing an abnormal number of aquatic creatures being caught in our western fishing hamlets and villages from those regions.”
“I have recordings of three more locations. The first is from the Eastern Continent, from one year ago…”
He was interrupted by a forced cough. Looking toward the source, he saw the headmaster covering his mouth. “Apologies, young Aren, but I think it would be best to speed this up. We will go over the details in the days and weeks to come, but I recommend that we move to the final part.”
Aren looked a bit surprised at the headmaster but recovered quickly. “I fully understand, honored Archmage. Could I then just showcase the final part of my research? It shouldn’t take long.”
The headmaster gave him a look he didn’t fully understand but, after a moment, nodded. “Please be quick about it.”
“Of course.” Without wasting any more time, Aren walked over to the formation he had created in the middle of the podium. With a wave of his hand, it lit up with bright light as he connected deeply with the magic. He began explaining as he worked. “This is my final proof for the will of the world. Now I will connect to the seven major leylines we know of, and by using an emotive divination link, I will reveal the consciousness of the world.”
Without waiting any longer, he activated the seven links, and a bright window opened in the room, matching the size of the hall itself. In his mind and across the plane of energy, a view of the known world appeared. He easily recognized the continent of Alkebulan, where his kingdom was located, and then the islands of Akz’ens visible to the west. Eastern Therionia stretched across a vast expanse of land whose end had never been discovered, but here its boundaries were finally visible.
Finally, there were lands he had never heard of at the north and south of the view. Any expeditions that had traveled in those directions had never returned.
As he looked around and cataloged everything, the view suddenly changed. Inky darkness covered the edges of the world, at first slowly encroaching toward the center, then speeding up in an instant to cover everything in a black void. Just as he thought it could not get any worse, a set of deep maroon-purple eyes opened, and he felt as if something were staring into his very soul. He heard faint screams around him, and suddenly the connection he held began to dissolve. The image grew fainter, and just before it vanished completely, he heard a soft voice, like a whisper from the void itself.
“World. Voracity. You to… End. Save.”
Aren shook his head and recentered himself, only to find he was bathed in light that dissolved the magic he held and the formation on the ground. The receiver crystals he had painstakingly created, and whose second halves he had placed in all corners of the known world, shattered. He looked around the room and saw students and professors alike staring in horror. Some were clearly crying, while others huddled together. They felt the same message he did: the world was going to end.
“I must apologize. The last time I used this spell, it simply showed me the location of the Akz’ens leyline where the wild magic would occur next. This… I didn’t expect this.” Aren hung his head in shame. This was supposed to be the entryway to his perfect life, yet it seemed like it would become a black mark on his record. All the students and professors would associate the vision with his failure. “Thank you, Headmaster, for intervening.”
“It’s… understandable. It’s not the first time in our history that something unexpected has occurred during an Archmage dissertation. Still, a recess would be wise.” The headmaster looked around the hall before raising his voice. “Anyone feeling ill, please visit our hospital ward. The rest of you, please go and rest well, and try not to be overwhelmed by today’s events. Heads of each division will come with me, as we will deliberate and vote on the outcome of this dissertation.”
Archmage And’dew looked at Aren, “You should also calm down and visit a doctor about your condition. You can come to the Arcane Hall afterwards and we will inform you of our decision.”
Aren looked at himself, a bit surprised, only to notice a warm feeling below his nose. He was experiencing a rather profuse nosebleed, and he felt lightheaded. He quickly cast a cleansing spell, a diagnostic spell, and a clotting spell before heading to the healing wards to treat the deeper damage he knew his spells were not precise enough to fix properly. Vitalic magics were his one weakness. Fortunately, the damage was limited to his blood vessels.
It didn’t take long for someone to attend to him, and after lying down for half an hour, bathed in positive vitalic wizardry, he was ready to move and receive the results of his presentation. He couldn’t help but overthink everything. In his mind he went over the unreadable look the headmaster had given him and the scared expressions on many of the professors’ and students’ faces. It had been years since he had failed this badly, and the last time was due to his failure to protect a village from a dragon-level threat when he was still an adventurer.
He quickly walked through the halls to the meeting spot of the most important people in the academy and opened the giant wooden doors to the Arcane Hall. There, the faces of all eight division heads watched him. The headmaster sat at the high seat and gestured for him to come to the center.
Aren walked forward and took in the expressions of the professors, four seated on each side of the Archmage. When he stopped a short distance from them, the headmaster spoke.
“We will now each give our vote for Aren to advance to the position of archmage. As dictated by our academy rules, you need at least seven votes. We will start with Professor Bob of the Mnemonic Division and follow the resonance order. I will give my vote last.”
The head of the Mnemonic Division spoke first. “I’m of the belief that Professor Aren's mastery over magic is exemplary and deserves the title of archmage.”
The head of the Sympathetic Division spoke next. “His achievements are undeniable, even if I’m slightly worried that he is too young. I vote yes.”
Next was the Emotive Division’s head, who said stoically, “Yes.”
The Elemental Division Head looked angry as he spoke. “I vote no. No one who doesn’t know the result of their magic deserves the archmage title. Let him try again in twenty years.”
A woman wearing the badge of the Divination Division wrote in the air with her magic, “The resonance found him worthy.”
The elderly head of the Chronotope Division looked a bit torn when he spoke. “I find the chaos that is likely to start if we accept his position worrying, but I’m not going to stifle talent. We should all remember the tale of Xardis. Who knows what would have happened if he had been accepted as archmage in his time?”
The brightly dressed head of the Negative Vitalic Division simply huffed. “Of course he is worthy. No one but And’dew could beat him in a duel, so stop wasting time.”
“Duels are not all there is to life,” the head of the Positive Vitalic Division said, shaking her head as she looked directly at Aren. “I believe you are more than skilled enough. Sadly, I also think you are a bit too immature for this august position. It cannot afford to have its reputation reduced because of your age. I believe that in five to ten years it will be more acceptable. You should also get married in the meantime and have a few children, that will help your standing.”
Aren smiled a bit wryly at the final speaker and turned his gaze to the headmaster, who now held the deciding vote. The headmaster looked at him deeply before suddenly pulling out his wand and pointing it at the young professor. Before Aren could react, he was struck by a beam of light from a six-circle spell.
He found himself in a space filled with stars and orbs of light circling around him. There was even a faint sense of lights not visible to the naked eye within the headmaster’s headspace. Not far away, he saw the Archmage standing and gazing into the distance.
“I apologize for the sudden intrusion. Here in this mindspace of mine, we can talk freely for as long as we need. I wanted to have a few words with you before I give my vote. Don’t worry, I’ve already decided, unless you truly disappoint me here.”
Aren took a second to compose himself and said, “It’s alright.”
The headmaster nodded, “Let me ask you a question then. What do you think is the responsibility of the Archmage?”
“To be the one who leads the world of magic onto the next stage,” Aren responded, his voice steady and confident. “To do it with wisdom and knowledge built upon the shoulders of the giants before me.”
“Well, to each their own, but I like that answer,” the Archmage said. “I mostly did it in my personal pursuit of mastery of magic. Still, where do you want to lead them with your research?”
“I wish to study the past and look for answers to create a better future, where we live even more entwined with magic. I want to create a world where humans are the masters of their fate, where no beast can destroy our kingdoms and no cataclysm can end our dynasties,” Aren said.
“Hmph,” the Archmage released a sound of disdain. “Then tell me, what will you do when the Emperor of Khazand discovers who assassinated his father ten years ago? When he marches his armies on the offending kingdom, as he is known to do? When someone uses this magic to reveal that the current ruler of a kingdom is illegitimate? Or when any other upheaval occurs because some secret truth is uncovered, truths that would normally be hidden by counter?divination? How will you lead then?”
Aren was a bit surprised by the sudden shift in tone but tried to put confidence into his answer. “It’s true that certain upheavals and tragedies in our generations will probably be unavoidable. I think that limiting access to this magic, at least in the beginning, to our academy halls is wise. Maybe we could release it outside in a limited form, like wild magic warning systems. Still, I believe that in the name of progress and mastery of magic, it’s not something we can ignore. Sooner or later, someone would discover it themselves, and they would be the ones deciding the terms. We are not the only ones studying magic. This way, we can use the full wisdom of our academy to ensure this power is not abused. Alone, I’m sure I would stumble, but with your help and that of the academy’s brightest minds, I believe we can only gain from this.”
The Archmage looked at him for a moment before nodding. “I think your opponents are right in that you are naive, although I would simply attribute it to a lack of experience, especially in politics. We are done here then.”
As the Archmage finished, Aren instantly found himself back in his body, with a small sense of vertigo. He gathered himself just in time to hear, “I vote in favor.”
There was a short sound of clapping as the head of the Sympathetic Division stood up and walked over to Aren. “It’s tradition for the head of the division you belonged to as a student to grant you the Ring of Archmage.”
The ring was a marvel of craftsmanship, a band of metal that shimmered with a silvery light. Aren recognized it as magic-infused titanium, nearly impossible to break. The metal was shaped into serpentine coils that wrapped around themselves in endless loops. Set within the curves were seven gemstones, each glowing with its own distinct resonance. It was clear that the ring was more than ornamentation, it embodied the unity of the seven magical domains and the authority of the archmage.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head one final time. When he rose, he did so with full authority, becoming the youngest archmage in history.
