Fin sat on the courtyard bench spoon halfway to his mouth when the sobs reached his ear. The girl’s sobs, soft, hitched cut through Haven’s thrumming mana, interrupting his thoughts. Brown hair veiled her face, shoulders trembling, tears glinting in the morning light. She sat on another bench, perhaps fifteen paces away, clearly thinking herself alone. He’d spoken without thinking, “What’s wrong?” and now regretted it.
She looked up, startled, hazel eyes red-rimmed but sharp, a first year tunic clinging to her slight frame. The deep blue of Haven’s colors seemed to swallow her, making her appear smaller than she was.
“Oh, I, I’m Blythe Mercia,” she blurted, voice fast, words tumbling over each other like stones in a flash flood. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I just, I’m a mess, aren’t I? My brother, my twin, Bryce, he didn’t get into Haven, and it’s awful, just awful…”
Fin opened his mouth to respond but she barreled on, hands fluttering like panicked birds. “We’re Mercian, you know, distant cousins to the royals, Father always says it’s in our blood to excel, but Bryce failed the trials, and now Father’s furious, says he’s shamed us all…”
“Blythe,” Fin tried, spoon still in hand, Convergent Equilibrium humming beneath his skin to keep his patience. The skill damping the instinctive irritation at her rambling.
“… and he’s ruthless. Father is, absolutely ruthless,” she rushed, cutting him off, barely breathing between words. Her mana signature pulsed erratically, betraying her emotional state even more than her tears. “He’s sending Bryce to Zingale, across the continent, can you believe it? Some backwater training camp, and I’ll never see him again, not for years, and I’m only fifteen, and I got in, but he didn’t, and…”
Fin's jaw tightened despite his Equilibrium. She wasn't mean, just oblivious, her voice a rapid stream, drowning his attempts to interject. His Electromagnetic Perception pinged her mana signature automatically, low Tier One, mana faint and undeveloped, heart racing with distress beneath it all. He didn't care about royal cousins or ruthless fathers, noble drama was noise, not his problem. The world was full of entitled children from powerful families, all convinced their lineage mattered more than their capability.
"Blythe," he said, sharper this time, setting the spoon down with deliberate care. The wooden bowl clinked against the wooden tray
. "…and Mother's no help, she just cries too, and Father says I have to uphold the name now, all by myself, and I don't even know if I can, I mean, I barely passed the combat test, that boar nearly…" She paused, gulping air like a drowning swimmer breaking surface, then plunged back into her monologue before Fin could wedge a word in. "Did you see the trials? Were you there? I bet you were, you look like you'd do fine…"
"Enough," Fin snapped, standing, tray in hand. Her eyes widened at his tone, but he didn't soften it. The morning wind whipped harder across the courtyard, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. "I get it, your brother's gone. Sorry. I've got things to do."
She blinked, mouth opening to restart her verbal deluge, but a shadow loomed before she could begin again. Instructor Coren stormed into the courtyard, silver instructor's robe flapping around his stocky frame, the scar on his left cheek twisted in a familiar scowl.
Coren's glare locked on Fin, venom practically dripping from his gaze. The man had hated him since their first conversation.
"Aodh!" Coren barked, voice cutting the wind like a blade. He used Fin's surname, another small power play. "You little thug, thought you'd slink off after that cafeteria stunt? Come with me, now!"
Fin's shoulders squared automatically, Equilibrium steadying his pulse and clearing his mind. Blythe shrank back on her bench, silenced at last by Coren's rage, though whether it was fear or simple shock was hard to tell. Her mana signature dampened further, instinctively pulling inward.
"What stunt?" Fin said, his voice deliberately flat, though he knew exactly what the instructor meant. Three second years, all bigger than him, all thinking to bully the smallest kid here. They'd cornered him, thinking numbers mattered more than training.
A mistake they wouldn't repeat soon.
"Don't play dumb," Coren spat, grabbing Fin's arm, Fin let it happen, not resisting, tray still balanced perfectly in his free hand. His Equilibrium kept the anger at bay, turned it cold and sharp instead of hot and wild. "Beating second-years like a street brawler? You're done, the Headmaster will toss you out!" He dragged Fin toward the central spire, muttering under his breath, "Cocky brat, five skills my arse..."
Blythe's voice piped up behind them, small and uncertain. "Um, sorry, I'll just…" But Coren's angry stride swallowed her words, Fin trailing with a blank face, the tantō blade at his hip tapping rhythmically against his thigh as they walked.
Coren maintained his grip on Fin's arm as they entered the spire's base, passing through heavy ironwood doors carved with protective sigils. Inside, the air hummed with concentrated mana, dense enough that even non-sensitives could feel it pressing against their skin. To Fin's Electromagnetic Perception, it was like wading through honey, rich and golden and everywhere.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They climbed the spiral staircase in silence, Coren's angry breathing the only sound besides their footsteps on stone. With each level they passed, the mana concentration increased, until by the seventh floor, Fin could feel it vibrating in his bones, resonating with his own untapped core.
Coren spoke only once during the climb, his voice low and filled with malice. "You think you're special, don't you, Aodh? Think your fancy skills make you better than discipline? The Headmaster is too soft, but I see you for what you are, gutter trash with a fluke talent, just like your father."
Fin said nothing but filed that information away for later. Responding would only feed Coren's anger, and besides, the man's words meant nothing to him. They were empty air, signifying nothing but the instructor's own insecurities. Fin's Equilibrium held firm, keeping his expression blank and his mind clear.
The staircase finally ended at a landing with a single door of dark wood banded with silver. Runes glowed along its frame, privacy runes if Fin had to make an educated guess. Coren rapped sharply on the door, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
The headmaster’s office perched atop the central spire, a circular chamber of dark granite and clear glass. Mana pulsed thick here, almost visible as shimmering waves in the air, Haven’s cliffs framing a breathtaking view of the sprawling city below and the wilds beyond. Coren shoved Fin through the door, his knuckles white on his staff.
Headmaster Elijah Torin stood at a broad desk of polished ironwood, his gray hair cropped short in military fashion, robes edged with silver that matched the streaks at his temples. Unlike Coren's chaotic mana, the Headmaster's presence was a quiet storm, a void but Fin knew he was immensely powerful. Scrolls and orbs cluttered the workspace, mana tools, Fin guessed, for scrying and communication. A massive tome lay open before him, pages thin as insect wings covered in script too small to read from a distance.
Elijah's sharp eyes flicked up at their entrance, pinning Coren mid-rant with a look that could have frozen a summer stream.
"…disgraceful, Headmaster!" Coren fumed, pushing Fin forward like a prize. "This runt attacked three second-years in the cafeteria, no provocation whatsoever! They'll be in the infirmary overnight! If we don't expel him, we're rewarding thuggery!"
Elijah raised a hand, silencing Coren with the simple gesture. "I've heard about the incident already, Coren. Witnesses reported it all, unprovoked, you say?" His gaze shifted to Fin, dark eyes unreadable as stone.
Coren's vein pulsed visibly at his temple, mana flaring around him in agitated spurts. "Yes! He…"
"Alone, Coren," Elijah said, his voice soft but edged with iron. "I'll speak to him alone."
Coren froze, mouth twisting in disbelief. "Alone? Headmaster, he's dangerous, unnatural power for his tier, he'll twist the story…"
"Out," Elijah said, sharper now, pointing to the door with a steady hand. "Now."
Coren's glare scorched Fin one last time, promising retribution, then he stormed out, staff clacking against the stone floor, muttering under his breath, "Favoritism, bloody runt will ruin us all…" The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the circular chamber.
Fin stood motionless, tray balanced in his hand, Equilibruim keeping his breathing steady and his expression calm. Elijah gestured to a chair positioned before his desk.
“Sit. You can place the tray on the desk.”
Fin set the tray carefully on the desk, then sat, the tantō at his hip resting against his leg, a comforting weight. Elijah leaned back in his own seat, studying him with the careful attention of a master smith assessing unfamiliar metal.
"The fight," Elijah began, his voice neutral. "Three against one, second-years, seasoned students with combat training. You dropped them without using mana or skills. Impressive." A measured pause. "Or reckless."
“They started it,” Fin said, voice even, giving nothing away. “They tried to trip me as I was leaving, called me weak. I finished it.”
Elijah's lip twitched, was that amusement? then he tapped a scroll on his desk that Fin now recognized as a student record. His own. "So, I heard. No skills used, just hands and feet. Why hold back? You have skills at your disposal. Why not use them?"
Fin shrugged, still guarded. "Didn't need them. Pointless."
A low hum escaped Elijah, something like approval, maybe, then he tapped the scroll again. "Your course selections caught my eye. Weapons Training, Bestiary, Enchanting, Dungeon Diving Basics, practical choices, all of them. But Elemental Imprinting? That's second-year study material. Bold choice for a first-year."
Fin met his gaze without flinching but remained silent. There was no question there to answer.
Elijah leaned forward, eyes narrowing in assessment. "You're not a typical Tier One student, your power's too raw, yet too controlled. That course choice... you're on the cusp of breaking through to Tier Two, aren't you? Waiting for an Elemental to imprint on you."
Fin's chest tightened involuntarily, Equilibrium straining to maintain his calm. How did he know? Had he been that obvious? "Maybe," he said, deliberately vague.
Elijah chuckled, the sound dry as autumn leaves. "No 'maybe' about it. Your mana signature is thick, multiple times what's normal for your Tier, I'd wager. Your core is primed, just unbonded." He waved a hand toward the window, where the peaks beyond Haven rose like jagged teeth against the darkening sky. "Elementals spawn on the high peaks this time of year, wild mana draws them down from the aether, but not yet. A month, perhaps, before they show themselves."
Fin's jaw shifted slightly, but he nodded in acknowledgment. A month, time enough to prepare properly. Elijah stood, robes swirling around him with the movement, crossing to the glass wall that overlooked the valley.
"You're something of a puzzle, Aodh," he said, back turned to Fin now, silhouetted against the sunset. "Power like that, restraint like this, rare combination in one so young. Keep it in check. No more brawls, or I'll care less about who started it. Dismissed."
Fin rose from the chair, grabbing his tray, the tantō at his hip tapping softly against his leg as he left. Elijah's words stuck with him, cusp of Tier Two, a month out from possible Elemental Imprinting. Coren's rage was noise; this was signal.
As he descended the spiral staircase, the weight of the future pressed on him like the concentrated mana of the spire. One month to prepare for what would define the rest of his life at Haven, and beyond.