Chapter 61

“We’re learning emotional sustainment today,” Ganvar Ciemnosc folded her sleeves like she was about to perform a dissection. “Today, you’ll ignite and sustain your spark for more than a minute.”

Fabrisse sat on the grass and held the quartz Ganvar had given him between his palms like a consecrated scroll. “For more than how much time?”

Ganvar gave him a look that could have curdled warm milk. “A minute. You are supposed to be capable of feeling emotions for more than one minute, aren’t you?”

He cleared his throat. “Right.”

Ganvar gave him a glance like she was already exhausted. “You are to select one valid emotional state, preferably something you're actually capable of feeling, and hold that resonance through the quartz for at least fifteen seconds first.” She glanced to the left. “You’re late.”

“I’m not!” Liene appeared from behind one of the courtyard trellises, stuffing the last of a toasted rye roll into her mouth. “I was here. Just . . . in the shadow of that suspiciously large hedge.” She pointed to the hedge. It was not suspiciously large.

Ganvar sighed.

Liene plopped onto the grass beside Fabrisse, leaning back on her palms like she was at a picnic rather than a training session. “Okay, okay, okay, teach. What are we learning today?”

“You would’ve known had you been here a minute earlier,” Ganvar said. 

Fabrisse didn’t dare teasing her. He knew he wouldn’t win the ‘punctual’ argument with someone who had physically dragged him out of bed for a morning lecture.

“We’re learning emotional sustainment,” he whispered instead, eyes still on the Silvian quartz in his hands.

Liene leaned closer and peeked at his quartz. “Do resolve. You’re good at being annoyingly stubborn when you want to be.”

Ganvar gave her a look. “Do not suggest emotions to other students. That is not encouragement. That is psychic interference.”

“I’m helping!”

“You are not.”

Fabrisse took a deep breath. “Okay. Resolve. I’ll try.”

He closed his eyes, curled both hands around the quartz, and thought about every single thing he had failed at. Which was, unfortunately, a very effective list. Then he added Liene’s voice saying ‘I paid for the both of us’ to it for good measure.

The quartz warmed.

Atop the quartz appeared sparks, first pale, then richer, until it curled into a steady, muted amber.

Liene, peering at the quartz beside him, tilted her head. “Fabri. That’s shame, not resolve.”

Fabrisse didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the quartz, letting the shame hum against his skin.

Ganvar stepped closer, watching the resonance curl up toward his wrist like pale smoke. “Let it run for fifteen seconds.”

The shame held, faint but sustained.

[Resonance Sync: 9% → 14% → 18%]
[Emotion Category: Shame (Stable)]
[Elapsed Time: 0:07… 0:12… 0:15]

[Threshold Reached — Emotional Sustainment Achieved]

Ganvar nodded. “Good.”

Fabrisse let out a breath. “I perform best with this emotion.”

“Now double it.”

“Double it?”

“Thirty seconds,” she said. “Sustained shame. If that’s the emotion you can conjure best, then you’ll learn to master it first.”

Liene made a small noise of protest. “You know shame is a destabilizing emotion, right? The sparks typically don’t keep well; that’s why we don’t learn to conjure it in practice. He’s gonna start unraveling.”

Ganvar didn’t look at her. “Thirty seconds shouldn’t be hard.”

Fabrisse inhaled shakily, turned his focus inward again, and cupped the rock tighter. The amber glow sparked back to life, dim but consistent.

He gathered the same list of failures from earlier. The shame curved low in his gut and bloomed again through his fingertips.

[Resonance Sync: 9% → 18% → 22%]

[Elapsed Time: 0:07… 0:12… 0:15… 0:19… 0:21…]

Then the amber flared like light from a lighthouse. His wrists started to tingle. This was the numbing sting that came from holding too much emotion in your hands without bracing.

The physical sting proved to be too much of a distraction. He felt the corner of one intrusive thought slip in. What if this is all I’m ever good at? What if I’m not even doing shame right? And with it, the structure of the emotion buckled.

The amber dimmed. A fine crackle ran through the resonance thread like glass under stress.

[Resonance Sync: 27% → 21% → 14%]

[Elapsed Time: 0:24... (UNSTABLE)]

Ganvar’s voice cut in. “Don’t let it dip.”

But it was already slipping.

The light vanished like a pulled curtain.

[Resonance Lost.]

[Sync Reset.]

[Resonance Fatigue Detected: Emotional Overload — Recommend Stabilizing Emotion: Joy / Anticipation / Gratitude]

The quartz cooled in his hands, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. His chest ached. His wrists tingled with cold where the resonance had withdrawn.

Ganvar stepped forward, calm but sharp. “You overfed the emotion and let it collapse under its own weight.”

Liene peered sideways at him. “What were you thinking about?”

He didn’t answer.

Ganvar sighed. “Try again. And this time, keep it simple. Feel it, don’t wrestle with it. If you feel a physical sting, you’re trying to hold too much.”

“Right.”

He tried, and tried again. But after three attempts, he still failed. Both Ganvar and Liene demonstrated to him once more, but he couldn’t replicate.

Ganvar exhaled, then straightened. “All right. Fifteen seconds is a pass. For now.”

Fabrisse widened his eyes. “Really?”

“You’re not built for endurance yet, clearly. But that should be enough to at least attempt Harmonization.”

Liene perked up. “Oh, already?”

“Well, you only pay me for two lessons, so we have to take shortcuts,” Ganvar shrugged. “Harmonization requires two participants. You’ll share an emotional state and channel it into a mutual aether pool. From there, either party can redirect the pooled aether to cast a spell. It’s an intermediate-level two-person circuit, but it’s actually not that difficult.”

“That’s allowed?”

“It’s encouraged. Cooperative channeling is more efficient in high-load rituals. And more importantly—” She flexed her fingers, and clean, bright ivory thaumaturgic sparks kindled at her knuckles, small and sharp. “—it trains precision and co-regulation.” She stepped closer and tapped the grass beside her. “Sit up. Face me. We’ll use Resolve as the anchor emotion.”

“I can try,” he said, uneasily.

“Good. You already feel it. That’s step one.”

Fabrisse straightened his spine, legs crossed, shoulders squared. He watched her summon a faint ring of glowing lines around them—like a glyph traced in dew—anchored to a center point between their hands.

“This is the pool,” Ganvar said. “Feel your own spark, isolate it as Resolve, and feed it here.” She pointed to the center of the ring. “I’ll maintain it until you find the current.”

He tried. He really tried. He called up the same mental scaffolding: the quiet, gnawing refusal to quit, the weight of every failure, the will to not repeat them. Resolve flickered inside him like a thread pulled taut. The emotion was there. The quartz even warmed in his lap.

But when he tried to send it—when he tried to reach across that invisible gap into the shared pool—it all turned vague and muddy.

“Where is the pool exactly?” he asked, squinting at the space between them.

“I’ve given you the approximate location,” Ganvar’s eyes didn’t waver. “You’re not looking for a place. You’re looking for pressure. You feel where your emotion would land if it left you. Aim it there.”

“I’m trying,” he said through his teeth. “It’s just . . . it’s like I’m throwing fog at fog.”

Liene, lounging nearby with a berry in her mouth, offered unhelpfully, “Imagine it like a faucet. Not a hose.”

Ganvar took a step forward. “Watch me.” She closed her eyes. The spark of Resolve around her pulsed, steady and brilliant. Then, like liquid into a bowl, the sparks slid into the central glyph, where it shimmered gold-white.

“You see that?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fabrisse whispered, watching the center glow. “But how did you—”

“Because I’ve practiced. You haven’t.” She opened her eyes again. “Now don’t try to replicate the glow. That’s just a byproduct. Contribute your emotion to where mine went. Think of it like—”

He was already trying, but her instructions just didn’t make any sense. The emotion sparked inside him again, and ivory sparks formed inside his palm. He directed it toward the space she indicated. He even swung his arms toward that direction.

Ganvar gave a short, dry breath. “You’re treating this like a math problem. It’s not. It’s more like singing in tune with someone else’s note.”

Liene hummed off-key just to prove a point.

Then, his sparks fizzled. He’d hit his limit.

“Well, we’ll get it right next time.” Liene tapped him on the shoulder before turning toward the space where Ganvar’s pool was supposed to be. She stared at it in awe. “Teach, how are you able to sustain your aether pool for so long. I can only sustain a Harmonization pool for 30 seconds max. You must have really good emotional control and resonance!”

“To understand your own emotions, you need to know how others feel. Same goes with resonance. I train in different affinities and emotion ranges to understand the best practices. Some affinities, like Energy, have very efficient aetheric output which allows them to maintain the spells for over long duration. I picked up a few tricks from their casting process.”

“But wouldn’t that mean breaking from the Synod-approved methods?”

“Oftentimes, yes. But they’ve already allowed us to change the mnemonics how we see fit. I don’t see why we couldn’t borrow techniques from different elements if it means optimizing our spells. Acing tests is one thing. Efficient casting is another.”

“Then you must know techniques from so many different elements! Can you teach me some?” Liene clasped her hands.

“If you compensate me for my time.” Ganvar finally checked the time dial clipped to her sleeve. 

Liene’s eyes lit up. “Oh, oh! Can you show me an Energy spell you’ve adapted?”

Ganvar smiled faintly. “Okay.”

She raised a hand and traced a sharp arc in the air. Light fractured in a lattice pattern, condensing into a needle-thin bolt of energy that crackled with bright yellow filaments. With a jab, she loosed it into the empty space—it danced in a zigzag before vanishing in a pop of ozone.

Fabrisse winced even before the flash. His hand was already halfway up, fingers splaying instinctively to shield his eyes. The bright light left threads behind his vision, too sharp, too sudden. He turned to the side, blinking rapidly.

Liene clapped. “That was so cool! It looked like a lightning sketch! Can we see something harder? Show me another element—any element!”

Liene is really like a child when she gets to see something new and shiny, Fabrisse thought.

Ganvar didn’t answer. Instead, she brought her hands together and turned her wrists in a slow, spiraling gesture. Fire shimmered to life across her palms, tightly wound into a flickering helix. Water rose to meet it, not dousing the flame, but weaving through it like molten glass. Air folded in next, curling around the core in steady, rhythmic pulses. Finally, threads of dust and mineral lifting drew themselves to the motion like filings to a magnet.

The swirling core twisted into a smooth, translucent form—neither fire nor ice, neither wind nor stone. 

“This makes a great bomb when you detonate it,” she said.

“T-that’s so cool! Is that . . . flux?” Liene couldn’t peel her eyes away from the core.

Flux was the only quadbryd element in recorded Thaumaturgy, only accessible through complete resonance with the primaries, which meant it was never worth it to train with unlocking Flux in mind. And she even mastered Earth deeply enough to reach that? How much time did she spend on affinities?

In nine years, he couldn’t reach an acceptable affinity familiarity with a second basic element, let alone four. Most of his peers could also only specialize in one or two elements. 

So that must be the difference between a normal student and a High Distinction one. Or maybe she just has unlimited time.

She checked the time dial again, then stood with the finality of a dismissal. “That’s enough for today,” she said, brushing nonexistent dust from her layered robes. “Kestovar. You’re hitting a ceiling. Sustained shame is possible, but not sustainable. You’ll make better progress if your nervous system doesn’t give out during resonance.”

Fabrisse exhaled. His hands were still trembling, though he tried to hide it as he tucked the rock carefully back into its pouch.

Ganvar sighed one last time. She stayed quiet for a second, then said, “Maybe the wording I’ve used was wrong. Don’t guide. Just contribute your emotion. That’s what Harmonize is supposed to be.”

That still didn’t make a lot of sense to him.

“Oh well. We’ll nail it next time,” Liene stretched her arms overhead like she’d just wrapped up a leisurely nap. “Dinner?” she asked, already turning toward the courtyard stairs. “I’m in a toasted mood today. Maybe that sandwich stall near the Gate Square?”

“I’ll catch up,” Fabrisse said quickly, not quite meeting her eyes. “Go ahead first?”

Liene raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me regret letting you order second again.”

He waved her off with a tight smile. Once she was out of earshot, he turned back to Ganvar, who was re-tying the flap of her long sleeve.

[Training Completed: +26 EXP]

[Progress to Level 5: 1235/1500]

He’d had a question in his head since the beginning of the session. A few questions about Rimmar, who was possibly related to her. If he was subtle enough, he could just pass it off as casual conversation.

He hesitated for a full two seconds longer than necessary, then very casually asked, “Surely you have seen forbidden magic in your life! Have you ever worked with, uh . . . Darkness spells?”

Ganvar squinted at him like the sun was shining directly at her face. “Is that because of the way I look, or because of my brother?”

Fabrisse nearly choked. “What—no—I just—”

She glanced at him sidelong. “Don’t panic. I’m used to it.”

“I wasn’t—I mean, I wasn’t trying to stereotype or anything—”

Ganvar folded the final strap of her cloth pouch and turned to face him fully. Her voice, when it came, was cool but without malice. “I don’t practice that element. It doesn’t pair well with emotional alignment spells, and it makes artifact tuning volatile.” She paused. “Also, I’m not close to my brother. So I don’t know where he learned it. Or why.”

Fabrisse nodded too fast. “Okay. That’s—that makes sense.”

She narrowed her eyes even more, just enough to make him squirm. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

Ganvar stared at him one second longer, then slung the pouch over her shoulder. “If it’s curiosity, ask the Professors. If it’s concern, talk to your mentor. If it’s gossip—ask your girlfriend.”

“Who’s my girlfriend?”

“Aren’t you guys dating?”

“I’m dating who . . .”

Ganvar sighed. Then she turned and left.

Fabrisse stood there a beat longer, chewing on the silence.

He didn’t realize until he looked down that his fingers were still twitching against the outline of the quartz pouch in his hand.