The water rippled.

Fabrisse stared at the ripples for a second too long, just to be sure it was him who'd done it. The ashwood shaft of the Tideshift Conduit was a little too long for comfort, so that when he'd turned to check the surface of the small training bucket Lorvan had set out, he'd accidentally swung the staff around like a menacing weather vane.

The rest of him looked like a walking supply closet: padded mitts up to the wrist; the Concord of the Fifth Line snug around his right hand; three thumb-sized Traniv quartz clinking somewhere in the inner folds of his robe like badly hidden contraband. And, just behind him, Liene held the overflow—spare teacup, treatment balm, apology parchment—in a careful bundle like she was guarding unstable alchemy.

The Eidralith's confirmation came a second too late.

[Spell Cast: Ripplecall (Rank I)]

Ripplecall, or otherwise known as Minor Surface Perturbation, was the first spell he'd learned after raising his Water Thaumaturgy Affinity to Below-Average. With the staff in hand, he could see and isolate the hidden pattern the way a stonecutter might follow the grain. Beneath the bright scatter of sunlight on the water lay a slower, more deliberate geometry: lazy eddies turning under the surface film, the inward tug where the bucket's rim broke the rhythm, the minute lag between each ripple's rise and collapse.

"Good job," Lorvan told him from behind. "See it often enough, and you'll internalize the movement."

He checked out the new skill he'd learned one last time.

Skill: Ripplecall (Rank I — Basic Water Influence)

Type: Surface Wave Manipulation (Non-penetrative / Emotion-tuned)

Status: Stabilized | Average Accuracy Variance: ±9.4%

Aetheric Reaction Equation: 50% Pattern Recognition + 35% Spellcasting Timing + 15% Mnemonic: 'See, Wait, Speak.'

Base Effect: Produces concentric surface ripples from a chosen point on an existing body of water; amplifies and prolongs naturally-occurring surface oscillations.

Casting Window / Charge: 0.8 s base charge (fast tap routine) + 0.1 s for each RES.

Cooldown: 2.0 s (short teachable cadence).

Casting Requirement: SYN ≥ 5

He had no idea how and when this spell would ever be useful, but maybe the idea wasn't for it to be practical. It was for him to learn exactly where to channel his intent.

Lorvan glanced at his glyphwatch as its faint runes ticked away in a slow spiral.

"The session's over. Go have lunch. Rolen wants to see you early."

"Oh!" Liene piped up, straightening as if she'd just been offered front-row seats to a lightning duel. "Can I come too? Rolen is my least-unfavorite Archmagus."

Lorvan didn't even bother looking up. "The Archmagus specifically asked for Kestovar's audience alone."

Liene's shoulders sank, the corners of her mouth folding in. Without a word, she handed the chipped teacup back to Fabrisse, making sure the handle was turned the wrong way as a token of her disapproval.

Fabrisse waited for another second before asking, "Can I also have my parchment back?"

"No," Liene said, hugging it to her chest. "I want to see what you write in it."

He held out his hand.

She let out a sigh loud enough to suggest lifelong betrayal. "Fine," she said, pressing it into his palm. "But only because I've decided this will look more dignified in front of witnesses."

He didn't point out that there were no witnesses, and that she'd always been going to give it back anyway.

The flame held.

It trembled for half a heartbeat, threatening to gutter out or flare wild, before settling into a perfect, steady tongue of orange, balanced exactly where Fabrisse willed it to be. Fabrisse smiled, taking in the air that smelled faintly of resin and hot iron, the aftertaste of Rolen's training chamber.

[Spell Cast: Embertrace (Rank I — Basic Fire Control)]

Embertrace, as Rolen had explained for the ninth and final time, was not about making fire, but about keeping it exactly where it needed to be, no more, no less. Fabrisse could feel the heat anchored to a pinpoint in the air, the way a bead of candle wax clings to a wick. He eased the ashwood stylus back a fraction, letting the flame follow without smearing into sparks, the heat radiating no farther than the space of a clenched fist.

"By fire, be purged!" Rolen suddenly declared, spreading his arms wide as though presiding over some ancient exorcism.

Fabrisse stared at him. "I just kept a fire in place, Archmagus."

Rolen gave a dignified sniff. "I'm sure you managed to purify some dephlogisticated air in the process. Splendid."

Fabrisse lowered his stylus, deciding not to ask what that was supposed to mean. Rolen had a tendency to say things that instantly made serious work sound like a stage rehearsal, or a joke he wasn't in on.

"In any case," Rolen murmured from somewhere beyond the edge of the light. "You stopped wrestling with the aether. Still with your mitts on, but it's better casting successfully with aid than unsuccessfully without aid."

It wasn't only that he had his mitt on, but also Rolen's Lodestone and the three Trinav quartz inside his robe that otherwise wouldn't have worked without Celestial Hoarding. Still, progress was progress.

[Fire Affinity: Below-Average → Average]

Spell Profile — Embertrace (Rank I — Basic Fire Control)

Type: Fire Thaumaturgy, Micro-Stability The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Primary Use: Maintain aetheric flame within a fixed spatial locus (±3 cm drift tolerance)

Difficulty: Low (requires precision, not power)

Duration: 8s + 1s per RES after 5

Aetheric Reaction Equation: 50% Casting Timing + 25% Sequencing Dexterity + 15% Mnemonic: 'Pin, Don't Pour' + 10% Emotional Channeling

Casting Requirement: SYN ≥ 9

He'd channeled joy, and it'd felt like a breeze. Speaking of breeze, since Rolen had been eager to improve his handling of fire immediately, Kaldrin's Wind practice had been scheduled for the following morning, which meant Draeth's private session had to be delayed until the afternoon. It was a messy situation.

Rolen stepped closer, the reflection of the flame dancing in his eyes. "For the record," he added, almost offhand, "your Embertrace looks steadier than mine did the first time I cast it."

Fabrisse wasn't sure if that was encouragement or provocation, but he let the warmth of it settle beside the flame.

The air stirred.

At first it was nothing; only the tiny prickle of motion against Fabrisse's cheek. Then the sensation expanded, curling around him in a narrow, deliberate spiral. A dust mote caught the light, spinning once before drifting past his nose, proof that the current was his doing and not some errant draft from the training hall's cracked window.

Kaldrin had positioned him dead center on the chalk-marked circle, away from doors, vents, or even a breathing audience. Fabrisse only had access to still air on all sides, so still that the scrape of his own sleeve seemed deafening.

"The instructants should've gotten you to do this," Kaldrin said. "But it's near impossible to extend this kind of setup in a class of thirty."

The brass-fitted Vortice Rod in his hands (that Kaldrin had lent him) was heavier than it looked, and short enough to force him to keep his movements tight, almost stingy, lest the tip break the imaginary boundary of the circle.

The rest of him was still kitted out like a walking supply chest: padded mitts, Concord snug over his right hand, and a new length of wind-tuned copper wire looped three times around his belt like a suspiciously shiny leash. Kaldrin had only glanced at it once, muttered "acceptable," and gone back to his own preparations.

[Spell Cast: Whirlweave (Rank I — Basic Air Control)]

Whirlweave, the introductory spell in Kaldrin's curriculum, was about teaching the caster to create motion where there was none—a seed of wind coaxed from perfectly still air. Fabrisse could feel it now, a thread of moving pressure between his palms, its path neither wild nor yet fully obedient, like the first loops of twine in a knot that had not been tightened. He shifted his grip, and the current shifted with him, brushing past his left temple before closing in again to circle his torso.

"Don't reach for speed," Kaldrin warned from across the room, voice like gravel dragged across slate. "Reach for continuity. Fast air is easy to make. Controlled air will actually obey you."

It was a far cry from Ripplecall's patterned water or Embertrace's anchored fire—this had no clear edge, no fixed shape, only the ghost of a boundary defined by his intent. But it was his.

Spell Profile — Whirlweave (Rank I — Basic Air Control)

Type: Air Thaumaturgy, Localized Current Generation

Description: Create a stable wind current within a 1 m radius from caster's locus (±5° directional tolerance); speed adjustable between 0.5–1.5 m/s at Rank I.

Duration: 6 s + 1.2 s per RES after 4 (capped at 12)

Wind Speed: 1.5 m/s (gentle breeze) + 0.4 m/s per RES after 10 (capped at 20)

Aetheric Reaction Equation: 40% Continual Shaping + 30% Spatial Awareness + 20% Mnemonic: Breathe, Shape, Guide + 10% Emotional Neutrality

Casting Requirement: SYN ≥ 7

Kaldrin watched the faint spiral sway above Fabrisse's head. "Adequate for a first try," he said after a moment. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Straighter than mine was, the first time I called wind from still air."

Fabrisse wasn't sure if that counted as praise, or he would've received too many praises over the last two days, but he decided to keep the current going for another second—long enough to convince himself it had been.

The ground held.

It pressed back against him. The sensation was not soft like sand or brittle like shale, but firm in a way that made the bones of his stance feel truer. The pull of gravity thickened, each breath settling him deeper into the circle Draeth had marked out on the flagstones.

Draeth hadn't allowed mitts, quartz, or even the chipped teacup to remain inside his robes. 'Your hands,' he'd said, 'and the ground you stand on. That's all you need.' The headmaster's voice was the sort that refused argument by existing.

[Spell Cast: Steadroot (Rank I — Basic Earth Anchor)]

Steadroot, the first earth spell Fabrisse had ever cast, didn't so much move the element as let it move into him: its weight, its stillness, the quiet surety of stone under strain. Threads of packed soil and fractured bedrock interlocked with his will, holding his position as if the floor itself had decided to keep him.

"You possess commendable earth affinity, and yet not a single earth spell to your name," Draeth said, his shadow cutting across the chalk circle. "Frankly, mastery of such a feat was expected of you three years ago." His tone left no gap for thanks, pride, or relief to seep in.

It wasn't a pleasant session, but the most important thing was that Fabrisse had seen progress. This marked the fourth basic element.

Spell Profile — Steadroot (Rank I — Basic Earth Control)

Type: Earth Thaumaturgy, Ground Stabilization

Aetheric Reaction Equation: 30% Earthen Terrain + 30% Emotional Grounding + 30% Precise Sequencing + 10% Synchronization

Description: Anchor a fixed area of terrain (up to 1.2 m radius) against external force or displacement. The effect is strongest on soil and gravel; reduced efficiency on stone or metal surfaces. Grounding emotions (calm, resolve) work best; other emotions might only produce up to 70% effectiveness.

Duration: 8 s + 1.5 s per RES after 5

Stability Increase: Equivalent to +40% mass density for anchored area, +8% per RES after 8

Casting Requirement: SYN ≥ 6

The pressure eased when Fabrisse released the spell, but a faint echo of that rootedness lingered in his calves, as though the ground had learned him.

QUEST COMPLETED: "Stone, Silent"

Objective: Study your first spell under Headmaster Draeth

Reward:

+200 EXP

+5 Earth Thaumaturgy Mastery Points

He saw the experience point addition; the 200 extra experience points on top of all the EXP he'd gained through training over the past two days.

[Progress to Level 7: 3694/4550]

His new chapter started strong.

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