Fabrisse stepped onto the packed-sand floor of the training ring, scanning the other end for a spot as far as possible from Severa Montreal. Even at this distance, he recognized the way she carried herself: precise, controlled, a predator in repose.

Maybe if he just carried on doing his thing in silence, she'd leave him be. Nine out of ten times, it worked.

He carried the glass bottle of water carefully, uncorked it, and let a few droplets fall onto the sand. Slipping on his Thaumaturge's Throwmitts, he watched the water ripple.

Fabrisse settled on the far side of the ring, careful to keep his distance. He raised the glass bottle slightly, watching the water inside as it lay still. He pinched his fingers, recalling the delicate water pattern underneath the surface of the bottle.

He aligned his breathing with the pulse of the water, synchronizing his intent with the natural oscillations beneath. Slowly, he wove his mental thread through the ripple, connecting his aetheric energy to the pattern like tuning a fragile instrument. Then he chanted:

"See, wait, speak."

[Spell Cast: Ripplecall (Rank I)]

He felt the delicate pull of the aether threads beneath his fingertips, subtle as a spider's web in a sunbeam. The sand beneath his boots shifted as he adjusted his stance, careful not to disturb the fragile equilibrium he was threading together.

The water responded almost immediately, concentric circles blossoming in harmony with his will. The ripple vanished a couple seconds later.

He smiled as the water's ripples held longer than before. Not perfect, but progress.

[Mastery Training: Ripplecall (Rank I)—Progress to Rank II: 2%]

Fabrisse's smile faltered, replaced by a slight frown. He lowered the bottle and glanced around the empty ring, then muttered under his breath, "Why am I even doing Ripplecall?"

His fingers tapped the glass. Just because I happen to be carrying a water bottle, I get pigeonholed into casting water thaumaturgy spells?

"Indeed. Why are you doing Water Thaumaturgy?" He heard the same needling voice he'd become somewhat accustomed to, and glanced up to see Severa looking at him, arms folded, one hip cocked to the side.

Fabrisse turned away. Oh no. She was talking to him first.

That was never good. Whenever Severa Montreal initiated conversation, it was almost always a prelude to verbal dissection. She had selected him, like a surgeon choosing which organ to remove first.

Don't make sudden gestures. Don't give her an opening.

He straightened instinctively, clutching the water bottle like it might shield him from whatever rhetorical weapon she was about to unsheathe.

Instead, she just said, "Why are you not learning Fire or Air instead? Those are your electives."

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He did not make sudden gestures. He did not give her an opening. He did not say anything.

"You skipped the Air Thaumaturgy practical, Kestovar." She sighed. Even her sigh sounded more restrained, though he could tell she was still pretty much pissed off. "And here I was, under the rather generous impression that the Binder of the Eidralith had decided to finally take his studies seriously."

"I have an excuse for it," he murmured. "You didn't want to hear it." He literally skipped his practical so he could have a personal session with Kaldrin. However, when he was about to voice his reasoning, he clamped his mouth shut. Didn't I berate Montreal earlier because she had so many tutors? I'm no different now.

So he said nothing.

For a few moments, the only sound was the hiss of the aether vents along the ring's perimeter. For once, Severa met his silence with her own.

Then, in a tone more observational than accusatory, she said, "I did recognize the professor walking with you just now."

Her diction was crisp, and there was no combat in it. She was probably implying something; nobody uttered a statement of fact just to not follow it up with anything. But eventually, Severa said nothing else.

"I should get back to my . . . studies," he murmured as he stared at his bottle.

"We should get back to your studies," she corrected him.

"We?"

"Don't feign ignorance, Kestovar. We have had an arrangement."

"I haven't confirmed. My schedule is . . . full now," he said, fiddling with the side of his satchel. She was very serious about this. This was supposed to be their free time, not a structured practical lesson, and she was still drilling him about it.

"If it is full, then why are you here?" She asked.

He didn't have an answer to that. But he did have a question. "What do you get out of tutoring me?"

She lifted her gaze, eyes unfocused as though studying something suspended in the air above them. Then she said, almost off-handedly, "Nothing. Consider this my gesture of goodwill, for . . . the circumstances that transpired between us."

Fabrisse stared at her for a beat. Goodwill. That was rich.

He pursed his lips. It would have been easier if she'd just insulted him outright. But if he was hearing it right, she was dressing condescension as charity.

She regarded him, then squared her shoulder, lifted her chin, eyes half-lidded in effortless poise.

"I know that look, Kestovar," she said, voice smooth and imperious. "If you intend to indulge in some petty form of retribution, even after I have so graciously returned your rock, then at least have the fortitude to do so properly. Now then. Shall we begin?"

At that moment, the Eidralith gave him a quest.

[QUEST RECEIVED: "Harmonize the Quintessence"]

Objective: Successfully performs a spell from all of the five basic elements in under five minutes.

Reward: Celestial Repository Invocation (Concordance Skill)

[SYSTEM NOTE: The timer restarts upon casting a duplicated element.]

Accept the Quest?

[Yes] [No] [Remind me later]

Concordance? Now that was something he hadn't explored in a while. He didn't know if there was any way to organically interact with the fifth element while studying Thaumaturgy, as it wasn't part of the official curriculum.

The word 'Celestial' was in the skill's name. Does it have anything to do with Celestial Hoarding?

There's one way to find out, I guess.

He accepted the quest.

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