The classroom, redolent with the scent of warm parchment and the faint metallic tang of fresh sigils, was a testament to the profound knowledge that was about to be imparted.
Pillars, each bearing a different elemental rune, encircled the hall, setting the stage for the magical lesson that was to unfold.
Between them hung glass vials of trapped storms and bottled dusk, each containing a unique aspect of the natural world.
These vials, like the apprentices, were eager to learn, and their presence made the apprentices murmur like birds, anticipating the magical lesson that was about to unfold.
Students settled into benches carved from dark oak, nobles in stiff robes, familiar scholars in patched gray, tutors with pens like talons, while at the front, a slateboard of living Aether waited, humming faintly to itself.
Professor Malrec stood before them, hands folding into a simple gesture that sent a line of silver glyphs crawling across the slateboard like a slow tide.
The marks pooled, uncoiling into a neat column of symbols that glowed with a patient light.
"Today," he said, voice clipped and precise, "We move beyond the foundations you have all learned. You have bent Aether into rope, candle, and ward. You have felt the current and learned its grammar. The Arcane orders have long organized practice by eight edicts," he said. "Each edict has its shadow in craft: ten stages of Arcanum. Think of them as grades of conversation with the world."
Marlec folded his hands, the classroom quieting like a stopped clock. He glanced once at the slateboard, then out over the students as if choosing which of them to invite into a secret.
"Brief, then useful," he said. "Practically speaking, for an academy, for your careers, for what you are expected to master before the world asks for real things, we narrow that ladder. Learn the first five steps in an edict and you leave here capable, dangerous in a useful way. Stages six through ten exist, they are real and terrible and belong mostly to Monarchs, Ascendents, and Enchanters who have long traded years of life for power. We do not teach them to you like exercises. We teach you to avoid being sucked toward them unprepared."
He tapped the slate. Three banners of faint light unfurled: Manipulation, Elemental, Harmonization. "These are the Edicts that belong to our divisions."
"First: Manipulation. This is the edict of touch, the skill of moving the world's currents and small objects without brute force.
In the first stage, "Ear of the Current", you begin to sense the subtle threads of your environment and interact with them in a practical manner. This could mean moving a feather, closing a window, or tugging a page, actions that are immediate and grounded in the present moment.
As you progress to Stage Two, termed "Weavecraft", you gain the ability to maintain various effects in place while you gather your thoughts. This stage allows you to sustain a lantern or hold a latch against powerful gusts, showcasing a newfound capacity for control.
In the third stage, "Pairwork", you start to link two small effects together. This could involve holding a door while muting a shout or guiding a step while nudging light. Here, the principle of economy becomes crucial, as you hone your ability to maximize effects with minimal effort.
Stage Four, known as "Redirection", takes your skills a step further by allowing you to alter motion mid-course. At this level, you can bend an arrow's path or redirect a collapse, emphasizing finesse rather than brute force, it's about the persuasion of movement itself.
Finally, in Stage Five, referred to as "Lawcraft", you develop the capability to lay down limited rules within a specific context. This might manifest as a door that won't open unless a banner is shown or a corridor that slows those who run. These effects are useful and surgical, but they require a careful approach to lawfulness and ethics in their implementation.
Beyond five, you get into binding places, reversing another caster's flows wholesale, and finally changing how a field moves. We don't hand those to apprentices as party tricks."
He let the students picture a doorway that would only open for a name.
"Next: Elemental. People imagine torrents and conflagrations, but the work is simpler and also crueler.
In Stage One, "Spark & Stream", the goal is to create a controlled flame, a gentle trickle of water, and a fine breath of stone dust. This initial stage involves establishing the foundational elements necessary for further development. It sets the groundwork for the more complex processes that will follow.
Moving on to Stage Two, "Embodiment" focuses on ensuring that the spark remains steady under stress. The flame mustn't extinguish when challenged by the wind, demonstrating resilience in the face of obstacles. This stage emphasizes the importance of stability and endurance in the foundational elements created earlier.
In Stage Three, "Scriptcraft", the objective is to form a ribbon of water, a column of heat, and a small structure crafted from elemental materials. This stage highlights the transformation of basic elements into recognizable shapes and forms, illustrating the creative potential inherent in the materials being used.
The emphasis in Stage Four is "Pillars of Light", resonate these shapes while maintaining their containment. This involves developing a longer fire and a higher wave without allowing these elements to become overwhelming or uncontrollable. The challenge here lies in managing growth while maintaining control over the physical manifestations of the elements.
Finally, Stage Five is the "Embedded Element", which centers on integrating an element into an object or place that endures. This could manifest as a brazier that continuously warms a hall until you choose to extinguish it, or a garden nourished by a private source of rain. This stage represents practical power, but it comes with an associated maintenance cost, as the elements require ongoing attention to sustain their functions.
"Higher stages bend weather, reshape terrain, or demand seasons of repayment," Marlec said. "Ambition can make you kind to villages or ruin them."
He turned his hand, and the slate's third banner brightened.
"Last is Harmonization: rhythm and resonance with the world's breath. It increases precision, reduces waste of Aether, and, crucially, allows complex tasks to be performed with less strain."
In Stage One, titled "Eyes of Wisdom," you begin to detect the subtle notes of ambient Aether. This stage involves tuning into the way the air tastes when rain approaches or the way a room hums after a ritual has taken place. These delicate cues allow you to become aware of the magical energies surrounding you.
As you progress to Stage Two, known as "Harmonic Flow," you learn to align a small motion to that current. By narrowing your casting to the rhythm of the Aether, your spells become more precise and less prone to error. This alignment enhances your ability to manipulate the energies at play.
In Stage Three, referred to as "Echocraft," your actions leave behind repeatable signatures that the Aether will echo. By understanding how to ride that echo, you can enhance your next spellcasting, making it more effective and resonant with the energies you've previously invoked.
Stage Four, called "Confluence," marks a step further in your mastery. Here, you learn to combine your inner will with the outer current, allowing a single gesture to produce a layered effect. With perfect timing, you can make a small wind carry light farther or cause a ward to bloom precisely when it is most needed.
Finally, in Stage Five, known as "Mantra," you gain the ability to tune a space so that the Aether there favors specific types of work. This stage allows work in that room to become easier for you or your circle, while others might find it dull or even hostile. It's akin to tuning an instrument, only this instrument is the size of a hall."
"The higher stages," he said, "are rarely spoken of in classrooms, not because they are secret, but because they resist description."
"Now about Signatures, what the romantic call Aspects. They are not part of a stage ladder. A Signature is an answer from the Aether: a theme or flavor that arrives around you like a second name. It can appear while you sit at Stage Two or after you stand at Stage Five. It is unpredictable. When it does come, it can lean into an edict, make your elemental bursts behave like tides, make your manipulations pull like clockwork, but it is not a guaranteed promotion. One may be given the Aspect of flame, another the Aspect of tides, another of time, of clouds, or stone, shadow, or even songs. These are not tricks you copy. They attend the soul and the maker. They are the signature your inner voice writes onto the weft of Aether. Treat it like a guest, welcome it, learn its manners, or it will rearrange your life."
He looked at them, stern and frank. "Most of you will leave this school proficient in the first three stages of an edict and perhaps reach the fourth with focused study. Some, few, manage a true fifth as students, that is the mark of a promising graduate. The farther above five you aim, the more you bargain in time, in stamina, and in debts you cannot always repay. The Academy's job is to give you skill and judgement, not to hand you a ruin."
The room felt smaller for a moment; the edges of possibility had been drawn in sharper ink.
"Know this," Malrec concluded, his voice brisk again as he returned them to the scaffolding of work. "Mastery of the early stages is not a mere stepping-stone, it is the foundation that keeps you whole when the world presses against you. The higher the grade, the higher the price. Practice, study, and temper your curiosity with caution. Class, practical application, begins now."
With that, he directed them toward their tasks, each of them acutely aware of the weight of the journey ahead.
The slateboard dimmed. The edicts hung in the quiet like a challenge, a map with most of its hinterlands shaded.
Students rose and murmured, some with hunger, some with the certain dread of those who have glanced at what waits beyond the taught line.
The room emptied like breath drawn out of a bell. Chalk dust drifted where Marlec's sigils had lain, the slabboard's last glow guttered and went.
Aurelia stayed seated, fingers worrying the silver clasp of her crest until the metal warmed.
Around her, the air felt different, thicker, like a page turned in mid-sentence. Stage four, she thought, the word a small, dangerous itch behind her ribs.
A signature born, not made. It shouldn't have mattered, not yet. But it did. The idea of something in the weave answering only to her made the room tilt in a way she didn't like.
Kael slid into the bench opposite, slate tucked under his arm. He kept his expression quiet, the way he kept most things, an unreadable surface that rarely betrayed the current beneath. "Marlec sets the bar honest," he said softly, not lecturing but noting. "Five is where the Academy stops teaching and starts censoring curiosity."
Aurelia glanced up. "Censoring curiosity or preserving lives?" Her voice came clipped; pride folded around it like armor. Both, she thought, though she didn't say so. The thought of people who dissolved their boundaries with the world prickled like static at the base of her skull.
Lysandra arrived like a sunbeam, cheeks flushed, hair a careless halo of pink. She dropped into the seat beside Aurelia and looped an arm through hers as if they'd been friends for half a lifetime. "That was glorious," she breathed. "Imagine stages where you actually become wind or stone. I'd be a terrible boulder. Very sneezy."
Aurelia let a muscle in her mouth twitch. Lysandra's delight was infectious and ridiculous in the best way. "You'd be a gorgeous boulder," she heard herself say, and felt the absurd warmth of genuine amusement.
Lysandra tightened her grip and tilted her head. "So you'll tell me when you get a Signature, right? Promise?" Her eyes were earnest, no play at all.
Aurelia wanted to answer with the practiced, noble coolness she wore for public hours, "If it comes, I'll tell you. If it destroys me, you're to blame for cheering me on."
Kael watched them with the same benign attention he used on slates. "Harmonization sounded…different," he said. "Less brute force, more listening. If you learn to tune, you don't need louder spells." He tapped the edge of his slate. "It's useful even at the lower stages. Helps with economy, conserve Aether."
Lysandra leaned forward, conspiratorial. "So, Kael, does that mean you could teach me to make a spirit fetch my slippers? I'll pay in sandwiches."
Kael's dry glance would have killed most jokes, but not Lysandra's. He let a small smile through. "Spirits cost contracts and consequences. Sandwiches are not legal tender in most pacts."
Lysandra pouted, generous in her disappointment. Aurelia laughed aloud this time, the sound genuine and surprised at its own freedom.
The noise drew attention from a passing tutor, and then the corridor thinned, reclaiming their privacy.
Aurelia folded her hands in her lap. The lecture's shadows still clung to her, the vague shapes of stages six through ten, the idea that advancement might ask for more than study. "We should practice," she said, without pretense. "If Harmonization is listening, I want to learn to hear better. Not for the glory, because I don't like surprises."
Kael's nod was a single, sure thing. "I'll show you what I practiced for the duel. Small things first: sensing flow, holding a second thread without losing the first. That's the anchor for higher work." He pushed his slate toward her, a simple offer.
Lysandra squeezed Aurelia's hand once, spirited and immediate. "And I'll keep you fed. Sandwiches and cheering. It's a bargain."