Elias Leywin POV
I let out a heavy exhale as I let the mana-dense air of the training room leave my lungs.
I repeat the process this time inhaling, letting the air fill my lungs and the mana fill my core, before I exhale and continue to repeat the process.
The world narrowed to the rhythm of my breath. The warmth on my skin, the slight give of the grass beneath my legs, and the flow of wind across my face all faded to the background as I focused on controlling the flow of my mana.
I was just beginning another cycle when a soft sound, footsteps over grass, brushed the edge of my awareness. I didn't flinch or open my eyes.
"Very good," a voice said, light and composed. "You didn't break concentration."
I opened my eyes.
Director Cynthia Goodsky stood a few paces away, the sunlight catching the faint shimmer of her lavender-trimmed robes. Her expression was unreadable at first, eyes calm and thoughtful, but then she smiled at me.
"You're progressing faster than I expected," she said, walking slowly toward me. "Even older Mages struggle to maintain flow in a mana-rich environment like this. Most try to force their control. You're learning to listen instead."
I rose to my feet, still holding onto the quiet feeling of meditation. "I... wasn't sure if I was doing it right."
"That's the irony," she replied, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear. "You are. Magic isn't something you master through certainty. It's a relationship that develops as your core grows, most mages just see it as a tool or rather a weapon."
She took a few slow steps across the soft grass, her eyes drifting toward the stream that curved through the training room like a silver ribbon. The water's gentle burble blended with the ambient mana that saturated the air here.
Glancing back at me. "You're treating it like something alive, like it's something worth understanding." She adds.
I shifted slightly, my eyes tracing her movement. "I've always felt like it... responded better when I wasn't trying to force it."
A faint smile curved her lips. "That's the first step toward mastery. Most people go their entire lives without figuring that out."
She paused then, her gaze flicking to my empty hands. "Though you've made good progress with refining your core but there's something else I'd like you to begin learning."
I watched as she reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a slender wand. It was black, looking as if it were made of some kind of smooth wood, the grain almost glistening faintly in the ambient mana. A thin spiral of silver wound along its surface, ending in a modest Blue gemstone embedded near the base.
"You've trained well without one so far, but it's time," she said, holding it out to me. "This is yours for as long as you remain under my instruction."
"This is made from feyroot," she began, her tone quieter now. "It's an old material, harvested from a species of trees that only grow in environments with dense natural mana. The wood itself is sensitive to magical flow, especially when paired with a core gem like this."
She tapped the gem at the base.
"Sapphire is known for its harmonising properties. It balances unstable elemental flow, making it especially popular with early-stage mages."
I took a cautious step closer, curiosity rising in my chest. "It's... beautiful," I mutter as I stay transfixed on the 20cm or so length of dark wood in my teacher's hands.
She nodded, her voice softening. "Yes. But beauty in magic often hides risk. This wand won't offer you any guidance. It will follow with exactly what you give it, nothing more, nothing less."
"A wand to a Conjurer is akin to a sword to a Warrior, both are tools that enhance the person. Remember that.", she says as she holds it out to me again.
"You're ready to start practising with it. But only if you treat this as a partner and not as a shortcut. Precision, clarity, and intent. That's how you'll continue to grow stronger, a wand is merely a conduit to help in that journey."
Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the wand.
It was cool at first, like touching polished stone, but within moments, I felt a pulse of power. It was as if something had shifted, and now the wand was aware of me.
My mana stirred instinctively, rising to the surface.
The wand was heavier than I expected, not physically, but magically, as I felt my mana almost pool in the gemstone.
"How does it work?" I asked quietly, unable to take my eyes off the deep blue crystal.
My teacher stepped back and turned toward the open space ahead. "Let me show you."
She walked a short distance to an open patch of grass near the stream, her wand now in hand. Her posture relaxed, her movements graceful, but focused.
"Casting with a wand follows the same principles as casting with your hands. The mana flows from your core, shaped by your will, through your veins and ejected from the body. But the wand allows for a sharper focus and Cleaner output with less mana wasted."
She inhaled.
Then, with a precise flick of her wrist, she released a spell.
A blade of air burst from her wand's tip, silent, narrow, controlled. It cut across a flat stone a few meters away, carving a clean line into its surface without shattering it.
The wind stilled. The grass settled. The spell had ended as effortlessly as it had begun.
"That was a Tier 1 Wind Blade," she said, lowering her wand. "A simple spell. But shaped well, even a basic spell becomes something indomitable with enough practice. Intent matters more than power."
I looked at my own wand again, still feeling its hum in my palm.
Director Goodsky gestured for me to join her. "Your turn."
My legs felt suddenly stiff, but I moved forward, clutching the wand in both hands like I might drop it.
I stood where she had, breathing in the thick, mana-rich air again, this time with more awareness.
"Don't think about recreating exactly what I did," she said gently, watching me. "You're not trying to mimic a motion. You're trying to carry your will forward, and let the wand carry it further still."
I nodded, tightening my grip. I closed my eyes and began to guide my mana from the core outward, like I'd practised so many times before. But now, with the wand in hand, it felt different, more volatile, no more active. It was like trying to hold water in cupped hands while it slowly slipped through the cracks in my fingers.
I tried anyway. I focused on the idea of wind, imagining forging a blade made of the air itself, as well as the pressure of the movement.
"Wind Blade," I whispered, mimicking her earlier motion.
Mana surged from my core down my veins and out of my body into the wand gripped tightly in my right hand. However, the spell misfired.
Instead of a sharp blade of air, a sloppy blast of wind burst from the wand's tip. It slapped against the grass with an awkward whump, sending a spray of dust into the air. I stumbled back from the feedback, blinking hard as the wand throbbed in my grip like a scolded animal.
ahh
Director Goodsky didn't scold me. She simply walked closer and tilted her head slightly, her calm gaze studying me.
"What happened?" I asked, frustration creeping in.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she lifted my hands gently, adjusting my grip so it was lighter, more balanced. Her fingers were cool and steady.
"You're gripping your wand too tightly," she said. "You're trying to wrestle your mana into obedience. That won't work. The wand isn't something to control any more than your own arm is."
She stepped back, her voice still calm but firmer now. "Right now, you're treating it like a stick. Like an object you point at and expect results from. But the wand isn't a remote. It's a part of the casting process, and for the moments when you're casting, not separate from you."
I stared down at it, still not quite sure what she meant.
She saw the doubt on my face and continued, "You need to feel the wand the same way you feel your mana. As an extension. Rather than mana being like a third hand, this is merely a continuation of your arm, one made of mana and wood, yes, but no less yours."
I looked down, ashamed, but she didn't let me retreat into myself.
"Again," she said. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Relax your shoulders. Stop trying to grip the wand like it's going to run away."
I adjusted my stance, swallowing hard. My fingers trembled slightly as I loosened them around the wand. I tried to breathe, slow and steady, as I brought the image of wind back into my mind.
"Mana is not your servant," she says. "It is a tide you must learn to swim with."
I nodded slowly, trying to absorb the words.
"Visualise the flow," she instructed.
I closed my eyes.
Focus Elias.
Light gathers in my core as mana flows down and through my veins. It continues until my hand where the flow reaches the gemstone.
Power wells.
I raise my wand and bring it down in an arc, slicing through the air.
"Wind Blade," I whispered.
The wand pulsed. Mana flowed.
This time, the spell sliced forward, not perfectly, but with a maintained form. It struck a practice post to my right and left a shallow line in the wood.
I blinked, as a smile grew on my face.
Director Goodsky nodded once. "That was acceptable for a first proper attempt."
"Again," she said. "You'll do it until your mana obeys without rebellion. Until the wand no longer feels like something you hold, but something you are."
My arm ached, but I obeyed my teacher. My heart pounded.
I lifted the wand again.
And again.
~~~
A few hours pass, and I sit on the floor, sweat glistening on my brow, my back soaking my shirt. My limbs were sluggish now, every movement was slow and heavy. The wand lay beside me in the grass, the glow it held faintly pulsing as if it too was winded from the relentless repetition.
Director Goodsky stood nearby, arms folded, her expression composed as ever. She watched me for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod.
"That's enough for today," she said, her voice carrying a firm finality that left no room for argument. "You're not helping yourself by pushing past your limit. Fatigue dulls control."
You don't need to tell me twice.
I let out a breath of relief and lay back against the cool grass. My entire body hummed from the lingering mana coursing through it, but it was a tired hum, like the final chords of a long song played too many times. My fingers twitched against the ground, and I could still feel the echo of the wand's magic in my palm.
"Thank you, Director," I managed between deep breaths, not even bothering to get up yet.
"Come," she said after a moment. "I'll walk you to your mother."
With her instruction, I struggled to my feet, moving slowly.
I pushed myself upright and picked up the wand. As I slid it carefully into my pocket, I noticed the lingering warmth it held, like a faint memory of all the spells I'd cast today. Somehow, it felt a little more mine than when she had first handed it to me.
We walked side by side, our footsteps soft against the padded grass of the training room. The mana-rich air was starting to feel less oppressive, more like part of the environment than something I needed to brace against. Or maybe I was just too tired to care.
"I'm sure your mother will appreciate seeing you return upright," My teacher says lightly, covering her mouth, a trace of wry humour threading her tone.
I gave a weak chuckle. "Assuming I don't collapse in the hallway first."
"She'd sooner drag you home by your collar than let you do that," she replied with a faint smile.
We reached the edge of the room, where the natural stone gave way to smooth marble tiles. The sudden contrast underfoot made me acutely aware of the soreness in my legs. The enchanted double doors, leading to my freedom, opened automatically as we approached, responding to the Director's mere presence.
As we entered the cool hallway beyond, the sounds of the training room faded away behind us, replaced by the soft hum of ambient magic and distant voices echoing through the stone corridors. The towering ceiling stretched high above, arched and inlaid with rows of wooden chandeliers that traced faint patterns in the air.
It wasn't long until we reached the elevator. With a swaying of her hands, the door opened. It wasn't long until a grey platform descended carrying a familiar man in a black uniform.
"Good afternoon, Director Goodsky", he says, lowering his head in a slight bow, before the black-haired man turns to me, "And you too, Elias"
The director and I step in place next to the man "To the Lobby please, Michael", she says with a warm smile to him.
Michael gave a brisk nod, his fingers moving to the console beside him. With a subtle pulse of mana, the platform began to ascend.
"You look like you've had quite the day," he remarked, glancing down at me with a raised brow. "How was today's training?"
I blinked up at him, surprised by the question, then gave a sheepish smile. "It was good, actually." I sat holding a thumb up to the man, "I didn't explode anything, which feels like progress... Oh, and Director Goodsky gave me this," I say as I reach into my pocket and pull out my wand.
The older man laughed. "That's a fancy wand, Elias." He says as his eyes glide over it, "Is that Feyroot?"
I nod enthusiastically, "It's really sensitive to the flow of magic", I add, repeating to what my teacher had told me earlier on.
Beside me, the Director let out a faint hum of approval. "He did well. But he also learned the cost of rushing ahead."
I glanced her way, my arms crossed behind my back. "I wasn't rushing."
Director Goodsky raised an eyebrow.
"...Much," I added, earning a light snort from Michael.
"You're lucky," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "Most students don't get that sort of hands-on guidance this early into their training, and especially by someone so renowned, and that not even mentioning how young you are."
"I'm aware," I said quietly, fingers brushing against the wand's polished surface before tucking it safely away again.
My teacher's gaze shifted toward me, her expression unreadable for a beat. "Wands don't tolerate arrogance or carelessness, Elias."
"I know..." I say in a pout.
The elevator chimed softly and slowed to a stop. The doors opened, revealing the wide expanse of the main lobby. Afternoon light poured in from the high windows, catching in the polished stone and illuminating the Academy's crest in warm gold across the far wall.
I took a step forward and immediately regretted it. My legs ached worse than I'd expected, and the cool air outside the elevator only reminded me how drenched my shirt still was.
Michael chuckled behind me. "You sure you can make it to the reception desk without collapsing?"
"Nope," I said. "But I'm gonna try anyway."
I earn a slight laugh from my teacher as she offers me a hand.
I graciously accept as she leads me towards the main reception desk and the waiting room beyond it.
"How's your core feeling now?" the Director asked, not unkindly.
"Tired," I admitted.
"Rest tonight. Hydrate and eat well."
"Right," I say as we reach the desk.
She looks down at me, "Well then, Elias, I'll see you tomor-" she looks to her right and her eyes widen slightly "How about you take tomorrow off, it is a Friday."
"Oh... uh okay", I say in a confused tone as my teacher nudges me slightly beyond the desk.
I look back slightly as she only smiles at me, pointing with her eyes.
I follow her eyes to see a familiar figure with Auburn hair leaning against a wall book in hand.
"Art?"
WC – 2780
Thanks for reading this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. 😊
All Criticism and feedback are welcome. Any suggestions for the story or plot are also more than welcome.
If we're all still alive, the next chapter will be released at 12 Likes or on Wednesday.
Rius out.