Mana slid through my channels in smooth, flowing currents. I focused, adjusting their movements just a hair. Strengthening magic did not work equally well on every part of the body, and learning those intricacies would only improve efficiency. Every little bit mattered, as I had come to understand.

  When I felt ready, I took a deep breath. Then, I moved.

  The movement was as simple as pressing one foot to the ground and adjusting those flowing currents. I felt them ripple and surge down my leg, bursting free in a rush of emerald Aether.

  The world around me blurred. I shot forward at superhuman speeds, sliding along the grass of Wallace's courtyard to stop about seven feet ahead of where I started.

  I straightened up, smiling as I felt my mana continue to move in those same comforting waves. The movement should have disoriented me or knocked my spell out of place, but Wallace's technique had more benefits than I imagined.

  Not only did his looping trick muffle my mana signature and improve efficiency, but it also had a degree of innate stability. It kept my Aether flowing past surface-level disruptions, which I suspected would allow me far more freedom in casting and fighting.

  Moreover, the technique had a fascinating interaction with my Force Step.

  I had always cast the spell by gathering and holding mana within my legs, letting the pressure build up before forcing it outward in a single, firm push. It worked, but it had flaws. I needed time and focus, and the sheer momentum tended to disorient and injure me.

  Wallace's looping technique had given me a shortcut. Rather than hold it in place, I could gather it up in a wave, cycling it through my legs to gain momentum before pushing it out. This, coupled with my Arcane Body spell and many hours spent honing the rest of my magic, had a transformative effect.

  I Stepped, shooting forward to land five feet to my right. The instant I stopped, I cast the spell again and again, never allowing more than a heartbeat to pass before moving to another location.

  Each Step felt perfect, with none of the disorientation or physical strain that plagued past versions of the magic. I could sense it eating into my reserves and knew using both Arcane Body and this spell took even more mana than before, but the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

  Finally, I slid to a halt with sweat dripping down my face and back. Summer had come to Ferris, and the Everforge was in a particularly hot region of the country.

  I was...content. The spell had flaws, and I had ideas on how to fix them, but it was a qualitative improvement regardless. Faster, more accurate, and less wasteful than the original, which felt enough to warrant a new name.

  "Dash Step," I muttered before shaking my head, "No, that sounds ridiculous. Far Step, maybe? No, that's not quite right. Hmm...what about Flicker Step?"

  It was a rhetorical question, as Fortunatus was fast asleep by the side of the courtyard. I glanced at him, checking if he would stir and give an opinion, but he seemed content to leave me to my musings.

  So, Flicker Step it was.

  It felt satisfying to put the finishing touches on something I had worked on for months. Unfortunately, it was also a distraction more than anything. I had only started practicing the spell again in earnest to take my mind off more...irritating conundrums.

  Two months had passed since Wallace passed the trials. Two months and two more failures on my part. I had a single shot left to pass myself, but with only a month to prepare and my deficiencies with reinforcement lingering, hope had long since died out.

  I walked over to where Fortunatus sat, scooped up a clean cloth from the grass beside him, and used it to wipe off the sweat beading my forehead. Thankfully, I was dressed in loose pants, soft boots, and a sleeveless tunic rather than the layered robes of the Order, but it did little to ease the sweltering heat.

  "Impressive," a voice remarked from my side.

  I spun, stepping back into a defensive posture as I drew mana again. My core was about one-third full, more than enough to mount a defense, but I came up short when I saw who had spoken.

  She was a few years my senior, wearing the robes of an initiate but tailored in such a way as to accentuate certain...aspects of her body. Dark curled hair framed her face, which was pale with sharp cheekbones and sly, glittering blue eyes.

  More interesting than her physical appearance was her mana. It carried the same icy hardness as Wallace's but deeper and with an edge that spoke of danger. I estimated she was at least one stage above me, maybe more. If forced to, I might be able to beat her, but I decided not to take the chance.

  "Can I help you?" I asked, straightening up as I smiled.

  "Hmm? Oh, why, I suppose you can, yes," the woman said, sauntering over to me, "I'm here seeking out the prodigal new disciple of the Order. It's said he went from a novice to a master in just months, joining within just three attempts at the trials. Rumors claim he lives here."

  Ah.

  "Apologies for the confusion," I said, "But he is out at the moment."

  She made a show of looking me up and down, her smile turning into something more sly. "I see. Well, maybe you can help me instead."

  "And how would I do that?" I asked after a brief pause.

  "Well, I have been looking for a partner. Someone to study alongside, sharing knowledge and inspiration. Would you happen to know anyone who might be interested?" she asked, red lips curling up at the edges.

  I felt the briefest flicker of temptation. Then, a face flashed in my mind, and with it came the scent of frost and perfume.

  "While I appreciate the offer," I said, "I will have to decline. I already have a training partner."

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  She glanced me up and down again, then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  With that, she turned and strode through the courtyard, exiting through a gap in the walls. She had barely left when I heard a throat clear from the door back into the home.

  Wallace stood there wearing a sly grin. He had his arms folded over his chest, and I got the feeling he had been watching for some time. Annoyance flashed through me, not at being watched but at the fact that he had jumped into the conversation. It would have saved me the trouble.

  "How long have you been standing there?"

  "Honestly, just a few seconds. I caught the last bit where you turned her down," Wallace said as he walked up, "Surprised you didn't sense her coming."

  "She had a decent shroud," I said, "And I was focused on my training."

  Wallace's smile dimmed. "Aren't you worried she'll tell someone?"

  "A mage is practicing a new spell. Truly momentous," I remarked with a chuckle.

  Wallace laughed. "Fair enough. Still, why didn't you...you know?"

  "Accept her offer?"

  "Well, yeah," Wallace gestured towards where the woman had entered the courtyard, "I noticed you with that noble girl back when we first met. Not hard to tell that you two had something. But she's not around now, and you've never mentioned her. You've talked a little about your lords and your alchemist friend. Hell, you even told me about your mentors. But never her."

  The truth was I did not like to think about Amelia. Of all my friends, she was the one I had been sure would accompany me on this journey. She was also the one I found myself missing in quiet moments. The less I spoke of her, the less those moments needled at me.

  But I would never admit that, so I shrugged and replied, "There was not much to it. We were close, but not anymore."

  "Right..." Wallace drew out the word, "So I guess I'm still curious why you—"

  "Turned down a complete stranger with unknown magical abilities who came here solely to try and ply you for secrets while we are fleeing from an unnamed threat in an unfamiliar place?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, "I cannot fathom why."

  Wallace stared at me for a long while, then snorted. "Okay, I deserved that. Still, it might do you some good to at least talk to someone. You spend all your time studying and training. That's gotta wear you down."

  "I speak with you and Fortunatus," I countered.

  "Right, and every time we talk since getting here, it's about magic."

  "Is there a reason for the sudden interest in my personal life?" I asked him, folding my arms across my chest.

  Wallace shrugged. "Honestly? I'm nosy."

  "I suppose honesty is the best policy," I said dryly, "So, I'll give some back. Romantic entanglements require time and attention I cannot spare. Maybe someday, I can revisit that opinion, but until then, avoiding them is best."

  "I don't think she was too interested in anything too serious," Wallace remarked, "But hey, it's up to you. Like I said, nosy."

  I rolled my eyes, but a half-smile came to my face. His honesty was funny in a way if the slightest bit grating.

  "I have to take care of something," I said, pushing past the man, "When we return, maybe we can discuss your personal life. Is there anything you would prefer not to discuss?"

  Wallace laughed. "Guess I'm not the only nosy one. Good luck with...whatever it is you're doing."

  I waved over my shoulder as I walked down the hallway and towards my bedroom, getting changed into a clean set of clothes before making my way to the temple of the Everforge.

  ***

  Flames the color of a sunset swept down the figure's body, covering her feet in swirling embers. A few thin tongues rose up to her neck, swirling about her face in a way that obscured her features not unlike a mask. I swore the fire flickered and shifted, not unlike a real blaze, but I could not tell if it was magic or simply a trick of the light.

  What would fighting such an opponent entail? Even a Drop could conjure flames hot enough to score flesh from the bones or turn iron cherry-red. What would a Founder's magic do? Could I eventually craft armor powerful enough to resist such heat? And if not, what were my options?

  I let my eyes wander over the rest of the Smith's form, turning the questions over in my head. They were a distraction, but I soon found myself sitting before the mural, legs folded under me as I pondered it.

  Over the weeks, I had been meditating in this place. It was a way to earn some privacy and, more importantly, time to think.

  I had one attempt left until I needed to move on from this place. One last opportunity to enter the Order before remaining here became more trouble than it was worth. True, the assassins would likely not track me down for months longer, but I did not want to put Wallace in danger...or waste more of my time.

  My progress had stalled. I could see the hints of something greater, magical inspirations that I might discover if given time and motivation, but remaining in this place would not uncover them. I needed to push myself, and sitting behind closed doors would not do that.

  I opened my eyes, letting them wander to the next mural along the wall. This one showed the Smith battling a dragon large enough to swallow her whole. The mage tore flames from the beast's maw with one hand, the crimson and golden rivers flowing about her body in a display that was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.

  Had the Founders ever wavered? Had they ever questioned whether they would be strong enough, or had they always been as powerful as the stories claimed?

  "Impressive, isn't she?" a voice asked.

  I turned to see Gatekeepe Vidarr standing a few steps away from me. He had both arms behind his back, and though his eyes traced the mural, I could tell he was watching me.

  "Yes," I agreed as I stood, "It is. I cannot help but wonder what the real person was like."

  "Even more impressive, I'd wager. Paint and rock, no matter how artfully crafted, cannot match the genuine thing," Vidarr said, "I've seen you here several times over the last few weeks. Forgive a senior for his curiosity, but might I ask why?"

  I blinked. Vidarr was kind, more like a friendly uncle than anything, but he was also the most powerful member of the Order. Even the Keeper outmatched him as a craftsman, not a warrior. His curiosity gave me pause...but refusing seemed a good way to make a very dangerous enemy.

  "I am going to fail," I said, giving voice to the thoughts that had needled at me for months now.

  "Many struggle to join our order," Vidarr said gently, "It's not in our nature to succeed on our first effort, now is it? What is life without struggle?"

  His well-intentioned platitudes were both unhelpful and inaccurate. He was right that many failed to join the Order on their first attempt, but he was wrong in thinking that was what I meant.

  Rather than say as much, I smiled and replied, "Thank you. Ah, forgive me, but may I ask you for your advice?"

  "Of course, young man."

  "If you were in my circumstances—if you felt your growth as a mage had stagnated, and your efforts to improve had failed, what would you do?"

  Vidarr stared at me. He seemed to weigh me for a long time, not speaking as he searched my face. The silence stretched, growing awkward over time, though not unpleasant.

  Finally, the man spoke.

  "There is a belief amongst our members that a forger's talents indicate their personality and their goals. Have you heard of it?"

  "No, gatekeeper," I replied, "Never."

  "Yes, it's not widely accepted. Some feel it is restrictive. Still, I believe it holds some merits. Masters of alteration seek to change the world around them and themselves as a result. They are impulsive, often flitting from one fancy to another on a whim. Those who favor reinforcement are more grounded. Pragmatic, even. They hope to wear down the worst parts of themselves and the world while strengthening the best."

  "I see. And what about those who master creation?"

  "Typically, they are focused and driven, yet arrogant. What other kind of person would seek to create new things from nothing?" Vidarr mused, "As I said, it is a little too simplistic, but it raises an interesting question. Do these mages favor those talents because of who they are, or do their talents shift their personality?"

  Vidarr finally turned to face me, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. "My advice is to follow your strengths, young man. Failure is not something to be feared but welcomed. Your mana cannot reinforce? Then stop wasting your efforts. Abandon fruitless endeavors and focus on what you can do."

  "Even if that means I will never pass the trials?" I asked.

  "We cannot follow every path in life."

  I would rather have the option, but he had a point. Breaking the apparent rules of magic could wait until I saved myself from my doomed fate.

  "Thank you, honored gatekeeper," I said, bowing to the older man to hide my uncertain expression, "This has been...enlightening."

  "My pleasure," Vidarr replied as I straightened, inclining his own head, "If you ever wish to speak again, please come find me. It gets lonely here, and most initiates seem a tad intimidated by my presence."

  Considering the man was likely in the mid-liquid ranks, a stage most mages would never reach in their lives, caution felt warranted. He knew as much, though, so I did not see the point in saying so.

  I thanked him once more, then set off down the hill with Vidarr's words bouncing in my mind. Abandoning reinforcement was obvious, but that was not what dominated my thoughts.

  Instead, I pondered about what one's talents said about them. I was a creation specialist, and his description of us felt accurate, if not flattering. Yet, it also sparked something. I did want to create something new, but what was more important was what I sought to stop.

  I wanted to break destiny, leaving behind a void from which I could forge a new fate. Not creation, but—

  An idea occurred to me, and I came up short halfway down the hill. Vidarr's advice returned, his words whispering in my ear as if he stood beside me.

  "Focus on what you can do," I muttered as I began walking again, quicker this time.

  I would do precisely that. The real question was whether or not I could make what I imagined in my thoughts a reality in time. Then again, did I have much of a choice?

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