Chapter 60

Severa took two steps into the center of the casting square then turned to him. Her brows arched like she was preparing to grade him before he even started.

“I assume,” she began with a voice so weirdly gentle, “you know how to spiral your flame clockwise?”

Fabrisse gave her a sunny smile he absolutely did not feel. “I, well, yes, if I can ignite my flame.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s keep the combustion external, then.”

It was tradition by now. If Severa Montreal was going to help him, it was going to be with the same energy a noblewoman extended to a peasant attempting dinner etiquette.

But today was different.

Today, he had an edge.

The Silvial Quartz was still in his robe’s inner seam, inventory-stowed and safely out of sight. With Celestial Hoarding as his Path, he didn’t need to hold it. He could already feel its foreign aether existence beneath his skin, syncing quietly to his field.

[Passive Bonuses: ARC +??? | SYN +??? | Foreign Aether Source: Stable]
[Resonance Threshold Increase: Emotional Output x1.15]

He squared his shoulders.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Severa lifted her hand to demonstrate the form again. Fabrisse was amazed how fluid she made it look even though she had to do it in slow-motion. “Draw breath; coax warmth; speak bright,” she said lazily. “I recommend practicing the arc before adding emotion,” she continued. “Though with your history, even practicing might be a bit—”

Fabrisse raised his hand before she could finish.

“I’ll try it now,” he said.

“You haven’t prepared your pulse rhythm.”

“I have,” he lied.

Her facial expression didn’t change, but she wasn’t able to say anything for a second. That counted as a win in his books.

“Well then,” she spread one hand. “Do you think you can do it without practicing your rhythm, or are you giving up already?”

I will going to do it anyway, he thought. He steeled his Resolve. I will get it right on my first try. I will show her.

“Draw breath,” he whispered. Get the timing right. “Coax warmth. Speak bright.” Now!

His hand moved in a rough spiral. It didn’t look nice, but he was sure it counted. He felt the aether shiver.

An ivory-colored spark flickered at his palm. Then the flame came.

A loose helix of fire spun from his fingertips, wobbled. Heat licked up his hand and wrist, sharp and sudden, and he instinctively jerked back, shaking his fingers like he’d touched a hot stove. The flame sputtered. It held for just another second before fizzling into the air.

It left a soft orange shimmer in its wake, coalescing with the ivory of the spark to create a peach-gold trace that drifted in the air like a firefly on its lunch break. 

[Basic Combustion Funnel: SUCCESSFUL—Quest Completed]

[Spell Acquired: Basic Combustion Funnel (Rank I)]

[+1 Fire Thaumaturgy Mastery]

[+1 Concordance (Emotional) Mastery]

[New Spell added to Active Loadout]

[Bonus Objective Failed]

Fabrisse stared at it, stunned. His skin tingled. He didn’t even need to check the aetheric reaction equation.

Severa blinked a total of three times. He’d counted.

“Not bad,” she said slowly, like the words physically pained her. “Crude. But not catastrophic.”

Fabrisse was probably grinning silly by now. But his grin immediately vanished the moment she walked over to him and whispered, “So the Eidralith does improve you. You’ve been able to maintain a fire spell for two seconds only because of your artifact. The Eidralith helps you cast a basic spell. With me, it can set the realms ablaze.”

That line . . . is kind of extra, he thought.

[Training Completed: +14 EXP]

[Progress to Level 5: 1209/1500]

A shriek rang out from the left side of the auditorium.

One of the fire students—Larna, a third-term elemental alignment specialist with more enthusiasm than control—had panicked. She was casting a more advanced spell, against the instruction of the Professor. Her flame spiral broke formation, flared in two directions, and lashed toward the upper rows like fire arrows.

Half the class ducked. Professor Markenth was on the other side, shouting to a student blocking his view, “Duck!”

Fabrisse turned, instinct locking up, unsure if he should run or cast a Stillbrace. But before he was able to think, a figure from the back of the room raised one arm.

An onyx-colored ripple shot out, looking like a snorkelling eel. It reached a fire arrow in a flash. The flame vanished, completely swallowed by a blot of curling shadow before collapsing into nothing.

A glint of aquamarine burst from Severa’s palm.

A ribbon of high-pressure water snapped across the air with a sound like a cracked whip. It struck the second arrow head-on, shearing the flame apart in a hiss of steam and aether sparks. The remnants fizzled and dissolved before they could reach the student seats.

The class gasped in unison.

Professor Markenth stormed down the steps with a flick of his cinderstaff, flame spirals extinguishing in midair as he cut a path through the dispersing smoke.

"Control!" he barked. "Is the first rule of fire work. Not confidence nor dramatics. And certainly not improvisation." He turned on his heel, voice sharpening. "Control."

You didn’t say that before . . .

Larna had already sunk halfway into her seat, eyes wide with panic. Markenth didn’t berate her directly. He just raised his chin and looked across the room.

"My thanks to Montreal," he said crisply. "And to Ciemnosc. Swift responses and clean execution. Exactly what should happen when a student loses control."

Rimmar Ciemnosc was still standing at the back of the room, hand lowered. He gave a polite half-nod and murmured something too quiet to catch clearly. But his spell had been quick. Too quick. Fabrisse wasn’t sure if he’d chanted any mnemonic. He only saw that slick curl of onyx energy, silent like an assassin’s ribbon.

Fabrisse squinted. He knew what spell Severa had used—Fractaline Thread, a mid-tier water-form cut stream used for flame severing. Water subdual wasn’t uncommon among multi-affinity prodigies.

But Rimmar’s spell?

He couldn’t recognize it. And that was a problem. Not because darkness-type spells were banned—they weren’t—but because they were rare. 

He felt a shiver crawl across his shoulders. Darkness can’t branch out to Void. Can it?

Or can it BE Void? Is that what Void wants to look like, when it’s pretending to be something else?

Rimmar met his gaze from across the room with a neutral stare. Then he nodded at Fabrisse.

Fabrisse quickly looked away.