The lecture hall in the academic wing was already half full when Leo slipped into his usual seat midway up the tiered rows. The air smelled of old parchment and chalk dust, with a faint ozone tang from active mana practice in the previous class. He set his notebook open, quill ready, and tried to ignore the low thrum of the new cognitive sense humming at the edge of his awareness since he woke.
A student two rows ahead dropped a book. The thud echoed off the stone walls.
Professor Ross entered exactly on time. Her steps clicked on the floor. Her expression was sharp and unforgiving as ever. She wasted no time on pleasantries.
"In the earliest stages of study," she began without preamble, her voice carrying clearly through the hall, "mana is often described as something simple.
It is not."
