"Your medial is yours alone, unique to each caster. You'll know it when you find it, if you don't, you won't cast a damn thing."
—Lesson Notes, Magus Corix

Ardesco, Kaiswen
Eighteenth Year of the Fifteenth Cycle, A.D. 

The morning sun poured over Kaiswen in soft gold, catching on the curved spires of Ardesco, but Raelyn felt none of it. The warmth clung to the surface of her robes and went no further. 

For nearly a week, her days had followed the same rhythm: Rise with the sun, offer Hovan a terrible joke in the hopes of cracking his stoicism, spend hours kneeling in the Hall of Prayer, trying, and failing, to find the place inside her where magic was meant to live.

She pulled her robes tighter as she stepped into the corridor. Hovan leaned against the wall, whetstone in one hand, drawing a dagger's edge over it with calm, methodical strokes. The morning light struck the scar that traced down the left side of his head as he glanced at her.

Raelyn offered a tired smile. Even if her medial refused to manifest, she could at least enjoy her little ritual with Hovan.

"Alright, try this one," she said, voice light. "What do you call a fish with no eyes?"

Hovan sighed, rolled his eyes, and returned to the sharpening of his dagger.

She grinned wider, raising her eyebrows for dramatic flair. "Fsh."

Nothing. The same result as every day.

"Really?" She took a step closer, placing a hand on her hip. "Not even a smirk? That's comedy gold, Hovan."

Still no smile. But after a pause, he slid the dagger into its sheath and said, "Keardath sent for you."

The air around her changed. Her stomach dropped, and the breath she'd just taken turned sour in her lungs.

"Did he say why?"

Hovan shook his head. "Just said to come."

A chill pricked the back of her neck. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out thinner than she meant. "Maybe he's going to tell me I'm a late-blooming prodigy."

Hovan shrugged, turned and motioned for her to follow.

Her legs heavier than they had been a moment ago. Like each step took her closer to being dismissed, relieved of her robes, her place, her chance. Maybe Keardath had come to his senses and abandoned the idea that Raelyn was some sort of savior. That his theory about her and ancient magic was wrong. That the locket hadn't chosen her.

☾⟡✦ 𓆩 ❖ 𓆪 ✦⟡☽

Keardath's office looked unchanged, but Raelyn felt different walking into it. As always, scrolls curled across the shelves in chaotic clusters, books were piled in clusters, marked with ribbons or stones to keep their places. Keardath stood behind his desk, not sitting as he usually did. He turned when she entered, and smiled warmly.

"Raelyn," he said, gesturing toward the chair across from him. "Sit."

She obeyed, her spine stiff as she lowered herself onto the edge of the seat. Her hands clasped in her lap as she stared at the desk instead of meeting his eyes.

There was a pause. He seemed to study her before speaking.

"How are your lessons with Corix progressing?"

Her throat tightened. "I'm trying," she said, lifting her gaze slowly. "Every day. But I still haven't found my medial. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Keardath studied her in silence for a moment. "And what does Corix have to say about it?"

"That it should be easy for me," she said, frustration leaking into her voice. "Because I can channel ancient magic. But it's not. It's like chasing something in the dark. I can't even tell if it's even there."

Keardath folded his arms slowly as he leaned against the edge of the desk. For a flicker of a moment, Raelyn was certain she saw the doubt in his eyes. Her stomach dropped.

"I know what you're thinking," she said before she could stop herself. "That maybe you were wrong about me."

Keardath's eyes flicked sharply to hers. "No," he said. "I don't think I'm wrong. But I think you misunderstand the challenge in front of you."

He turned, moved to a cabinet behind his desk, and retrieved four small vials, each filled with a different colored liquid, and a larger, empty flask. Without a word, he set them on the desk between them.

"These," he began, picking up one vial, "represent the four primary branches of magic: human, elven, dwarven, and dark magic." He uncorked them in sequence, pouring each into the empty flask. The liquids swirled and twisted, forming a soft, glowing blend.

"This," he continued, lifting the flask, "is what we call ancient magic. It's the origin of all magic. Raw, unfiltered, and powerful. What you're struggling to understand is how this differs from the magic most magi use."

Raelyn leaned in, watching the way the light danced inside the glass.

Keardath set the flask down and nudged it toward her. "Now separate the contents back into their original vials."

She blinked. "I... can't."

"Of course not," he said, chuckling softly. "That's the challenge for us regular magi. We must siphon our power from ancient magic, breaking it into manageable forms and storing it in our medials. But you," he leaned forward, "don't need to distill. You can access and use the source directly."

She looked at him, doubt still simmering behind her eyes. "Then why can't I feel it?"

"Because you're still looking outward when you should be looking in."

Raelyn sat with the words, trying to make sense of them. "How?" she asked, looking up at him. "How do I look inward when I don't know what I'm searching for?"

Keardath tilted his head slightly. "Do you have the locket with you?"

Raelyn nodded and reached beneath her robes and took out the locket. It sat cool in her palm, the tiny crown crest glinting. She could feel the soft, rhythmic pulse that eased her doubts.

Keardath nodded. "Good. Try holding it when you meditate. Focus on its vibrations. Let them guide you to the place within yourself where the magic flows."

"And when I find it?" she asked, voice steadier now. "What do I do then?"

"Give it form. Let it show itself to you. Make it tangible in your mind."

She stared at the locket, her thoughts weaving through everything he'd said. He still believed in her. Maybe she could believe in herself too.

"I'll try," she said softly.

Keardath smiled. "I know you will."

As she stood and tucked the locket back beneath her robes, Raelyn felt the quietest spark of resolve light within her. 

☾⟡✦ 𓆩 ❖ 𓆪 ✦⟡☽

Raelyn entered the Hall of Prayer quietly, trailing behind two students in blue-trimmed robes. They knelt before the statue of Armaros, their heads bowed, palms facing upward in supplication. Raelyn lowered her gaze and moved past them.

Corix stood at the far end of the hall near the statue of Lucifer. He hadn't noticed her at first, or pretended not to. When he finally turned to face her, his eyes swept over her with that familiar mix of impatience and disapproval.

"You'll try," he repeated flatly, his tone devoid of hope. "Just like yesterday. And the day before that."

Raelyn didn't answer. She moved to the central dais, where the floor formed a circle of ancient, patterned stone. She knelt without ceremony, the chill of the slab sinking into her knees through her robes. Her fingers sought the locket at her neck and pulled it free. It hummed faintly against her palm.

Around her, the other students whispered blessings to gods who listened. Raelyn had never known what it meant to pray. She didn't know if the gods would hear her. She didn't even know if she wanted them to.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and willed the outside world to melt away. The prayers, the towering statues, Corix's skeptical gaze, all of it faded into the background, leaving only her and the locket in her hands.

At first, the vibrations were almost imperceptible, like the faintest ripple in still water. She strained to hold onto the sensation, but it was fleeting, slipping through her focus like grains of sand through her fingers. Frustration pricked at the edges of her concentration, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to listen deeper, to feel deeper.

The pulse grew clearer. She focused on it until nothing else remained. A steady, resonant pulse throbbed against her skin, faint but unmistakable. The sound seemed to echo inside her, each beat rippling through her body like waves. She let herself sink into the rhythm, imagining the vibrations as threads of light pulling her inward.

The darkness behind her closed eyes shifted, deepened, and began to change. Shapes and colors danced in her mind, coalescing into something tangible. A sound like rushing water filled her ears, growing louder with each passing moment. And then, all at once, the vision came into focus.

She stood on the bank of a great river. The water was impossibly clear, its surface shimmering like liquid crystal as it reflected the faint glow of the old trees surrounding it. The air smelled fresh, clean, with a faint sweetness that reminded her of blooming flowers. The river hummed softly, the sound resonating with the rhythm she had followed.

Raelyn stepped forward, her bare feet sinking into the soft, mossy ground. The texture was cool and comforting, grounding her as she gazed at the river's flow. Without hesitation, she waded in, the water cool against her skin as it rose to her knees. It was gentle yet insistent, tugging at her like an unseen current leading her toward something greater.

Each step deeper into the river sent a tingling sensation up her legs. The water felt alive, not just a part of the landscape but a force in its own right, urging her onward. The trees around her seemed to shift and sway, though there was no breeze.

The current quickened as she followed the river downstream, her steps becoming more deliberate. The sound of the rushing water grew louder, but it didn't overwhelm her; instead, it seemed to align with her heartbeat. She felt the pull strengthen, as though the river knew exactly where it was taking her.

The river's flow began to slow as she approached a clearing, where the trees grew thicker, their trunks forming a natural archway. Beyond it, she saw a small, pristine spring, its waters bubbling up gently from the earth. A layer of delicate mist hung over the surface, swirling in lazy spirals.

Raelyn stepped into the clearing, her breath catching at the sight. The spring was surrounded by a perfect circle of ancient trees, their roots entwined as if protecting the sacred space. Though no sun hung in the sky, a soft, golden light cascaded down from above, bathing the clearing in a warm glow. The air here was thicker, charged with a subtle energy that made her skin prickle.

She waded into the spring, the water lapping gently at her ankles. Unlike the river, this place was still, serene, its surface undisturbed. She bent down, cupping her hands to feel the water, and a surge of warmth shot through her fingertips. It wasn't just water. It was energy, alive and pulsing, and it coursed through her as if it had been waiting for her all along.

This was it. The source. Her medial.

Her heart swelled with awe and relief. She knelt in the center of the spring, letting the energy flow around her, through her, becoming a part of her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt whole, as though she had found a missing piece of herself.

Raelyn's eyes snapped open, her breath catching in her throat.

"I found it," she whispered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Corix straightened, his brow raised. "You're sure?"

"Yes." She turned to face him fully now, hands still resting on her lap. "I saw it. It's like a spring, in my mind. That's where the magic flows."

Corix approached slowly. His usual skepticism hadn't vanished, but something in his posture shifted. "Good," he said finally. "Then let's see if you can use it."

Raelyn nodded eagerly. She closed her eyes once more, drawing the image of the spring back into focus. It came easily now. The bubbling water and mist-shrouded clearing. She stepped into it again in her mind, the water cool around her knees, calm and alive. Her robes floated on the surface, but the water didn't seem to affect them.

She dipped her hands into the imagined spring. Magic surged up through her fingers like a current, warm and pulsing. It wasn't like the energy she felt from the locket. This was wild, untamed, like trying to hold onto a rushing current with bare hands.

She clenched her teeth, fighting to keep the energy from spilling out uncontrollably. Slowly, she pulled the magic inward, feeling it gather in her chest, a golden warmth spreading through her body. The flow faltered and wavered like an unsteady flame, but it was enough to make her feel the connection.

"Open your eyes," Corix said, his voice cutting through the haze of her concentration.

Raelyn obeyed. Her breath came quickly now. Her hands were glowing softly, golden light emanating from her palms in a warm, steady radiance. It radiated softly, not blinding but steady.

She stared, barely able to believe it, with a small, triumphant smile tugging at her lips.

But Corix wasn't finished. "Good," he said gruffly. "Now focus it. To the tips of your fingers. Precision is everything. Magic is useless if you can't control it."

Raelyn nodded, the weight of his words sinking in.

Eyes closed again, she returned to the spring in her mind. This time, she imagined guiding the current down her arms, into her hands, through to her fingertips.

But the magic was slippery, the warmth flaring up her forearms instead, spreading out instead of narrowing. Her arms trembled, sweat began to bead on her forehead and frustration started to take hold.

"Steady," Corix said, sharper now. "Don't let it scatter. Draw it in. Focus."

Raelyn took a deep breath, centering herself. She visualized the spring again, its calm, pristine waters. The flow had to be deliberate, she realized, not forced. She imagined the water narrowing into a stream, flowing smoothly down her arms and pooling in her hands.

The glow in her palms steadied, growing brighter. Slowly, she willed the energy toward her fingertips, imagining it as a delicate thread of light. The sensation was strange. Her fingers tingled, but the magic wavered again, flickering uncontrollably as it threatened to spill out in all directions.

"Too much," Corix warned. "Refocus. Don't let it overwhelm you."

Raelyn clenched her jaw, closing her eyes tighter. The spring in her mind came into focus once more. She pictured the water, the gentle ripples spreading outward. This time, she cupped the water in her hands more deliberately. The glow in her mind mirrored the glow in her palms, and she envisioned a single drop of light traveling to each fingertip.

The glow in her hands shifted, retreating from her palms. Slowly, painstakingly, it gathered at the tips of her fingers. Her arms trembled with the effort, every muscle in her body tense as she channeled the magic.

Finally, the glow settled, a soft golden light shining only from her fingertips. She opened her eyes, her chest heaving with exertion.

Corix stepped closer, studying her hands with an appraising eye. "Good," he said at last, a flicker of approval beneath his usual severity. "You've managed the first step. Now stop."

She exhaled, shakily releasing the energy. The light vanished. Her limbs sagged with exhaustion, but a spark of pride remained burning under her fatigue.

She looked up at Corix, a small, victorious smile on her lips. "I did it," she whispered.

"Barely," he replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "And this is the simplest application of magic. You'll need much more control before you can use it properly."

Raelyn nodded, her confidence bolstered despite his words. She had taken her first real step toward becoming a magus.

Corix was already turning away, pulling a small leather-bound book from the folds of his robe. The edges were worn, the corners softened by years of use. He held it out without ceremony.

"Study these glyphs," he said. "Memorize them. Each one has a purpose. You'll need to recall them with ease if you're to wield magic effectively. Tomorrow, you'll learn your first spell."

Raelyn took the book with careful hands. The leather was cool against her skin, the scent of parchment and ink rising from its pages. She flipped it open, catching glimpses of swirling symbols and annotations scrawled in sharp handwriting. There was structure here. Meaning waiting to be unlocked.

A small thrill ran through her. Anticipation laced with nerves. "What spell will you teach me?" she asked.

"The Shield of Light," Corix replied. 

She looked up again, lips parting, curiosity and impatience getting the better of her. "Could you show me?"

Corix didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed elsewhere. She saw something flicker behind his expression. His jaw shifted slightly, and his fingers curled around the edge of his sleeve.

"I teach theory, not perform tricks."

"It would help to see it," she added. "Just once. So I know what I'm aiming for."

For a moment, she thought he might snap at her. But then his eyes drifted toward the side of the hall, where a student still knelt at the statue of Armaros. The young woman had been praying since Raelyn arrived, lips moving in soft cadence, palms raised in devotion.

Corix exhaled through his nose, then raised his voice. "Aemara."

The girl flinched slightly, then stood, brushing her robes down as she approached. Her expression was composed, but her brow furrowed in confusion. Aemara glanced suspiciously at Raelyn before fixing her gaze on her teacher.

"Yes, Magus?"

"Conjure a Shield of Light," he said without preamble. 

She blinked. "Why?"

Corix's expression sharpened. "Because I am telling you to."

The girl bowed her head and stepped forward, turning slightly so that she faced the center of the hall. Her posture straightened, her hands lifted, her fingers glowing. She moved deliberately, her hands tracing a series of glyphs in the air. The lines she drew shimmered faintly, suspended in golden light.

Raelyn held her breath, eyes fixed on every motion. She had seen magic before, but never with the prospect of performing it herself. This time she watched more closely, trying to memorize the movements.

Aemara completed the final symbol and brought her hands together in a sharp gesture. A translucent barrier flared to life, light etched with geometric patterns, glowing with steady brilliance. The shield hovered in place around her balled fist.

Raelyn stared, wide-eyed. The way the glyphs had woven together. The pulse of the light. The confidence in the motion. 

Aemara stepped back, allowing the shield to flicker out of existence. She remained still for a moment, her gaze lingering on Corix, as if expecting some sort of praise or feedback for her performance. Her eyes were wide, her posture slightly tense, awaiting a reaction.

But Corix, seemingly unaware of her silent request, glanced at her with an impatient frown. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, his tone sharp. "Go on. Dismissed."

Aemara blinked, clearly caught off guard by his abruptness. She glanced at Raelyn, confusion flickering across her face, before turning and walking away with slow, hesitant steps. The sound of her boots echoed faintly in the quiet room, leaving a lingering tension in the air.

Corix watched her go. "That was a Shield of Light," he said, turning back to Raelyn. "It will block projectiles and deflect attacks. Simple, but effective. Essential in any fight." 

She nodded, still holding the book tightly against her chest. Her fingers itched to open it again, to start memorizing every shape, every line. The demonstration had lit something inside her. A determination. Something to aspire to

"I'll learn it," she said quietly. 

"We'll see." Corix didn't smile. But his silence held less skepticism than before. "You should spend the rest of the day studying those glyphs." Then he turned and walked towards the large doors.

Raelyn nodded, still clutching the book to her chest. "Thank you," she said softly.

Corix paused, mid-step, for a split second. He didn't look back. Didn't reply. But after a moment, he continued=and left without another word.

The Hall of Prayer had thinned out. Aemara was gone. The other students had returned to their quarters or lessons. Only the gods remained. Their faces offered no warmth, only expectation. She rose slowly, her legs stiff, her arms heavy with the ache of magic still ebbing from her limbs. Her eyes wandered across the statues until they landed on Lucifer.

His statue was the tallest, taller even than Buer's or Armaros'. Carved in white stone, holding a longsword, the blade's tip resting against the pedestal. His eyes, though mere sculpted hollows, seemed fixed on the far horizon. Lucifer, the last god to walk Unevia. The one whose weapon had been hidden, waiting for someone worthy. The one Keardath believed she could find.

Raelyn stepped closer, staring up at the statue, searching its face for an answer.

"I did magic," she whispered, as if it mattered to say it aloud. "I really did it."

The words felt strange, like she wasn't sure if she was admitting it or asking for confirmation.

Her hand drifted to the locket, fingers curling around its edge. The vibrations pulsed faintly. She'd found her medial. She'd conjured light. It wasn't much. But it was something.

Yet even now, doubt curled at the edges of her victory. Keardath believed she could wield ancient magic, the magic of gods. That she was meant for more than just casting human magic. That she was capable of wielding the magic of elves and dwarves. But how? How could someone like her bear that kind of power?

She lowered her eyes, pressing the locket briefly against her palm, grounding herself in its rhythm. Maybe she wasn't who Keardath thought she was. Maybe she would never become that person. But she had taken a small, trembling step forward. That was already further than she ever thought she'd get.

She looked up once more at Lucifer's unmoving face. Raelyn didn't feel the need or desire to pray. But before turning away, something compelled her to speak.

"I'm not sure I can do what you want of me," she whispered. "But I'll try."

The locket's pulse answered softly, steady as ever.

Raelyn turned and made her way out of the Hall of Prayer, the book of glyphs held close to her chest. She didn't know what the path ahead would look like. But for the first time, she had actually made progress.