Chapter 5 - First Steps in Cultivation

Being dismissed by Lyraen Solarius and cryptically warned by Selene Nocturne solidified my resolve. Conventional magic, the kind tied to Divine Patrons and bloodlines, was clearly not my path. My instructors saw failure, the elite students saw an anomaly, but I felt the nascent stirrings of something else – a connection to the very bones of this reality. The resonance of the Nexus, the distant thrum of the World Pillars… this was my 'Aether,' my 'patron.' I just needed to figure out how to cultivate it.My clandestine studies intensified. The library became my sanctuary. I devoured the scroll on 'Architectural Harmonics,' which spoke of ancient theories about reality itself possessing a fundamental frequency, a concept largely dismissed after the establishment of the Patron system and the stabilization provided by the World Pillars. It mentioned 'Nodes' – points where this frequency was strongest – and 'Dissonance,' events or energies that disrupted the natural harmony. It was theoretical, archaic, but it resonated with what I felt.I cross-referenced this with other obscure texts: treatises on Void dynamics, forbidden essays speculating on the nature of Astrum's Maw beyond its gravitational effects, even fragmented records from before the current Age, hinting at forms of power not tied to the Celestials. I searched for mentions of individuals sensitive to structural resonance, finding only vague references to 'Worldsingers' or 'Pillar Guardians' in near-mythological accounts, figures who could supposedly soothe planetary cores or reinforce reality through harmonic manipulation. It was frustratingly sparse, lacking any practical guidance.If the books wouldn't teach me, I would have to teach myself. My 'cultivation' became a process of experimentation, conducted in the quiet solitude of my small dormitory room or in forgotten corners of the vast Academy.My first goal was simply to enhance my sensitivity. I practiced meditating, not to clear my mind, but to focus it on the background hum of the Nexus. I tried to isolate the different frequencies – the thrum of the energy conduits, the deeper pulse of the Axis Mundi, the almost imperceptible vibrations from the distant Pillars. It was mentally exhausting, like trying to pick out individual instruments in a chaotic orchestra playing in another room.Slowly, painstakingly, I made progress. The 'noise' began to resolve into distinct layers. I could differentiate the energetic signatures of different sections of the Academy. I started sensing the flow of students through the corridors not by sight or sound, but by the subtle disturbances they created in the local resonance field. My senses sharpened in unusual ways. I couldn't see better in the dark, but I could 'feel' the shape of a room by the way the resonance echoed off its surfaces. I couldn't hear whispers from afar, but I could sometimes sense strong emotions – fear, anger, excitement – as ripples in the ambient field.My second goal was control. Sensing was one thing; interacting was another. I started small. Focusing on a single, inert object – a stone, a cup – I tried to extend my sense of resonance into it, to feel its internal structure, its unique frequency. Then, I tried to subtly influence that frequency, not with force, but with harmony. Could I make it vibrate slightly? Could I warm it by increasing its internal energy? My initial attempts were complete failures. The stone remained stubbornly inert.But I remembered the feeling during the Attunement session – the connection wasn't forced; it was accepted. I shifted my approach. Instead of trying to impose my will, I tried to harmonize with the object's natural frequency, then gently guide it. I focused on the stone, feeling its dense, ancient resonance. I aligned my own internal sense of the Nexus's hum with the stone's frequency, and then, gently, nudged it.A faint vibration tickled my fingertips. The stone didn't move, but it thrummed with energy, warming slightly under my touch. It lasted only a second before the connection faded, leaving me mentally drained but exhilarated. It wasn't Stellomancy, it wasn't Pyromancy, but it was control. My control.I practiced relentlessly, honing this rudimentary ability. I learned to sustain the vibration for longer, to create more noticeable warmth. I moved on to predicting energy fluctuations. The Nexus used vast amounts of power, channeled through intricate networks. By attuning myself to the resonance of the main conduits, I found I could anticipate power surges or dips seconds before they occurred. It was a minor predictive ability, useless in a duel, but it was proof of concept. I could read the patterns, anticipate the flow.This strange path had its own dangers. Pushing my sensitivity too hard left me with splitting headaches and nosebleeds. Trying to resonate with overly complex or powerful energy sources threatened to overwhelm my consciousness, like the incident near the Axis Mundi. And there was the constant fear of discovery. What I was doing felt fundamentally different from the magic practiced by everyone else. Would it be seen as heresy? As dangerous? Selene Nocturne's warning echoed in my mind.One evening, while practicing in a disused maintenance tunnel deep within the Nexus's substructure – a place where the resonance of the main power conduits was particularly strong – I felt a sudden, sharp spike in the ambient field. It wasn't a power surge; it felt… deliberate. Focused. Like a probe.Instinctively, I shut down my senses, pulling my consciousness back, trying to appear as inert and unnoticeable as possible. I held my breath, listening not with my ears, but with that deeper sense.A figure emerged from the shadows at the end of the tunnel. Cloaked and hooded, their features obscured. They didn't radiate the overwhelming power of a Proctor or the distinct signature of a specific Patron. Their presence felt… muted. Deliberately suppressed. Yet, I could feel a subtle dissonance around them, a faint wrongness in the way they interacted with the Nexus's resonance.The figure paused, scanning the tunnel. Their head tilted slightly, as if listening intently. Could they sense me? Could they sense what I was doing?My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't a curious instructor or a rival student. This felt different. Dangerous.After a moment that stretched into an eternity, the figure seemed to relax slightly. They produced a small, multifaceted crystal that pulsed with a faint, dark light – Void Essence? They pressed it against the conduit wall, and I felt a sickening leeching sensation in the resonance field as energy was drawn into the crystal. It wasn't a massive drain, but it was stealthy, parasitic.Sabotage? Espionage? Or something related to the political tensions, the accusations against House Nocturne and the Oblivion patrons?The figure retracted the crystal, now glowing more brightly, and melted back into the shadows, disappearing as silently as they had arrived.I waited, motionless, until the disturbed resonance field settled back into its normal rhythm. Only then did I allow myself to breathe, slumping against the cold tunnel wall, my body trembling slightly.My 'cultivation,' my unique sensitivity, had allowed me to witness something I clearly wasn't supposed to see. Someone was secretly draining power within the Nexus, using Void Essence. This wasn't just about personal power anymore. The political games, the hidden conflicts, the whispers of secret societies like the Eclipse Conclave… they were real, and they were happening right here under the Academy's nose. And my strange abilities, my status as an anomaly, had just put me dangerously close to the edge of a conflict far larger than I could comprehend.