Mana currents, according to Jonah, were a manifestation of natural law. They were the countless strands of mana woven together to create the fabric of reality itself. The currents themselves didn’t attach to objects, at least not in the sense of physical change. A mage could remove all the currents from a tree without it withering. They could also take control of an object by forcing currents to affect the physical, but creating something new was easier.

“Anything you create always returns to mana,” Jonah said, flicking a white flame on and off with a snap of her fingers. “The currents want to be used, not remain stationary.”

“So mana currents are like supplements to your own mana?” Sidrick asked.

“Kind of. You use your mana to funnel currents into an array, then the array spits the currents out as a spell. The more complex the array, the more currents you need, the higher the mana cost,” Jonah said. “There are a whole lot of nuances but that’s the gist of it.”

Layla had long melted back in her chair, paying no mind to looks or decorum. She was bored. Everyone would know it.

“Then how about when we create currents?” Sidrick asked.

“It’s inefficient and difficult to do, but bypasses some annoying parts of casting. You also don’t need to worry about draining the area of natural currents,” Jonah said. “Usually it’s something Sovereigns do during big battles, or so Ede Alonse says. Sovereigns can eat the mana cost, plus they don’t mess with allied casting.

“You both use a very refined version of the technique. Sidrick, with your reservoir, by Linean standards, you shouldn’t be able to use that magic at all. Granted, you need an object to manipulate, but it’s still impressive. Your reservoir is actually pretty high for your age.”

Sidrick smiled wryly. High for his age? It was still rubbish.

“You said something about draining an area of currents?” Sidrick asked.

“It’s not an issue for anyone below the upper reaches of archmage.”

“Can you control currents someone else is controlling?”

“Yes, but it’s only reliable against mages that are weaker than you. You also need a deep understanding of the affinity you want to affect.”

“What about—“

“What about practical tests?” Layla interrupted. “I won’t remember any of this without some action.”

Sidrick frowned.

Jonah laughed before becoming thoughtful. “Uhhh… You know, I’ve never had to start from square one with someone. A lot of this was instinct for me too. Let me think for a second…”

Sidrick resisted the urge to sigh while Layla burst into laughter.

#

Vivi wondered what those two travellers were up to. Maybe they’d join one of her classes. She’d never taught travellers before—they were always above her paygrade. Those two, however, had the awkward task of relearning the basics. She had the sense that at least Sidrick might be interested in medical magic, even if his affinities didn’t match.

She finished cutting open her cadaver and handed her assistant the scalpel. Barrier magic could act as a cutting tool too, it just felt gross. She folded open the two halves of flesh to reveal the dead man’s organs.

Many of her students made disgusted faces.

Vivi had felt the same during her first lessons.

“Knowledge of anatomy is a must for any healer,” Vivi said. “You must know what to heal, how to heal it, and how to make sure everything is in the right place afterwards.”

One student raised her hand.

She nodded to her.

“Why learn this if our spells work without guidance?” she asked.

Vivi had answered this question five times now. In this one class. “Unguided spells speed up natural healing. We want unnatural results. Now watch the currents.”

Her students each focused mana into their eyes. It took them so long. Every day, she was reminded of how blessed she was. Her home’s currents were far, far denser, visible even to the naked eye. She was born watching them.

The currents were like tiny strings, thinner even than strands of hair. They swam through the air in tempered harmony. Their flow revealed the barest truths of reality, the movement of nature, and even the emotions of fate. Havashi called it the Painted World. Sentient monsters and demihumans called it the Great Flow.

Arrays spun into her mind’s eye. They were simple, many of their junction points lacking a command rune. The currents became harder to guide with each command added. They became more rigid, robotic even. They became mere tools when they were so much more.

Jonah could cast with only a couple commands to her arrays. Vivi would someday learn to do it with none. What she was not blessed with in talent, she would make up for in devotion and understanding.

The highest form of casting was to guide the currents as nature would.

Vivi would see it all dance under her sparkling tune.

#

Renya watched her students from above. Alna and Norsen were making some good progress watching the currents. It would go quicker if they weren’t bickering like siblings, but then they’d lose half their charm! Klous was learning at a slower pace. His tradition-hardened skull was against anything he thought hampered his swordplay. Lenetta was Lenetta, making the most progress of them. Though Renya knew she was pushing herself after hours. They’d have words if she ever showed up too tired.

Jonah was working on some secret project. Traveler business probably. Renya was a little frustrated that she wasn’t let in on more of it, but Jonah always had her reasons. Vivi had done a wonderful job healing Jonah’s arm—Renya could recognize Sparklefoot’s work anywhere. She was an excellent healer, just an impatient teacher.

Renya opened her mana sight. Her students drew in currents with an amateur’s domineering grasp. Only what their mana touched was drawn in. They had no deeper connection with nature or the natural order. The currents left their arrays unenthused, dissipating back to mana soon after transforming. They were missing a core purpose.

Her students’ spells were also too rigid. Too many commands, too narrow a focus. They needed each array to solve several problems at once, else they’d be crippled by a bloated roster. You only really learned the value of tighter options after years of practice or a really bad day.

Renya made a face. She’d need someone to beat them up again. Not Jonah, however. They needed someone less insurmountable.

#

“When conflicting laws collide, they create a massive burst of energy, which settles into the Ethereal and expands it. Like pouring a bucket of water into a pool,” Hedwin said. “To be blunt, mana is, essentially, a byproduct of giant, reality altering explosions from another dimension.”

“I want to see one!” Swarra cried. “Can you see one?”

“You can, with the right spells or equipment. They aren’t very rare,” Hedwin said.

Swarra’s eyes glinted with a dangerous light. The oni had always been most engaged when it came to magic. Her wood-like horns crackled with excited sparks of violet electricity. Coupled with Swarra’s toothy grin of extremely sharp teeth, Hedwin could understand why some of the teachers didn’t like the visitors from Ilni Isle.

“When the Ethereal expands past a certain point, excess mana spills into the labyrinths, which vent the mana into our world, and…” he added some flowing lines to his diagram, “magic is made possible.”

Kell raised a hand. He was a tall boy, built like a brick and sharp as a razor.

Hedwin nodded towards him.

“What if we didn’t have labyrinths?” Kell asked as he started a new line in his notes.

“In theory, the Ethereal would fill until it reached a breaking point, and then a part of it would burst into a new dimension. It’s like an open wound. It keeps bleeding—the blood being mana—and eventually closes on its own,” Hedwin said. “All of the bled mana sits in its new dimension, and over countless years, eventually begins to form something new—”

“A world!” Swarra finished for him.

He nodded. “Well, that’s just the prevailing theory. There are a team of seers in Havash that watch the Ethereal every day, and they’ve never seen anything new.”

“So no more new worlds are being made?” Kell asked. “That sounds… bad.”

“Not really,” Hedwin said. “Most worlds will probably disappear in, say, a few billion years, and then there won’t be enough labyrinths draining mana, and nature will resume.”

“Will magic disappear without labyrinths?” Kell paused. “Wait, are worlds not supposed to have magic?”

Hedwin shrugged. “We’ll find out in a trillion years. Or you could ask a Primal about it.”

Swarra patted Kell’s shoulder. “Do not worry, Kell. Our legacies will be meaningless but life still holds ample blessings. Although you are not blessed with horns or sharp teeth, you may still be blessed with—“

“Swarra,” Kell interrupted, “I will not date your cousin. I won’t. Stop it.”

Swarra shook him. “But the affinities your children might inherit—“

“I won’t.”

Nellipa tried to quietly enter the room but dropped one of her books. The short, freckled girl quickly picked it up before sitting in the closest seat.

“Nellipa, how is your sound magic going?” Hedwin asked, choosing to let her tardiness go this time.

Nellipa smiled and started signing. Hedwin watched the currents closely. They were still a bit rigid but he saw the improvement in her spell form. She even attracted some currents untouched by her mana. Slowly, she was learning to add Will to her spells.

“GoOOd,” her sound magic pieced out with different segments of sound.

Swarra practically lunged toward Nellipa for a hug. “Almost a word! We must celebrate!”

Kell also came over to congratulate her, much more subdued but still grinning ear-to-ear for his friend.

Nellipa smiled more brightly than Hedwin had ever seen.

He smiled. What a wonderful little group he’d been assigned. It made him think back to the many Hunter recruits he’d trained. These three would be going on their first field assignment soon. The danger was barely notable. Kell alone could probably deal with any assignment they’d get. Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

Hedwin wondered if Sidrick would fit in a group like this…

He dismissed the thought.

The boy was too interested in personal power. Any group he entered, he’d leave with the excuse of protecting them, or say he needed to learn how to fight without help. He was also missing the mental blocks a person his age should have. Hedwin still thought back to the boy’s dead clone, bleeding on the labyrinth floor, killed with a single stroke. It took brutal resolve to use the Anchor like he did.

Hedwin feared what lines the boy was capable of crossing.

Still, he would strive to find a place for him.

#

Sidrick finally saw them. The currents reminded him of brushstrokes, each one overlapping with the real world. It was like watching a moving painting, each stroke shifting in ominous harmony. Sidrick instinctually felt it—a gentle force nudging the world and its residents forward. It was like he stood alone in the unending stream, an observer and nothing more. It felt… familiar.

The Anchor.

The labyrinth.

World travel.

It was the same wrongness.

Sidrick instinctively held onto the feeling. His blood squirmed beneath his skin as space shuddered around him. The currents grew thicker and wilder.

And they stared at him.

Jonah jerked him to his feet. The mana fell from his eyes—no, his whole body—as he returned to the real world.

Sidrick stared blankly, struggling to comprehend what just happened. He realized that a thin layer of frost blanketed his surroundings. Layla hadn’t even opened her eyes, deep in her meditative trance. She’d been at it for hours, ever since she first saw the currents.

“Okay, so bad news,” Jonah began, “you’re going to draw more attention than fireworks at midnight.”

Sidrick looked at her.

“Good-ish news though,” Jonah said, “Kor will absolutely take you as a disciple.”

“What was that?” Sidrick finally asked. “What… What’s wrong with me?”

“I have no idea,” Jonah said, frowning. “It has to do with your alchemical enhancements but there’s something else too. I’ve never seen the currents act like that before.”

“Can I use magic here or not?” Sidrick asked, his voice shaking. “Can I ever use it without everyone knowing what I am?”

Jonah sighed deeply as she considered.

Sidrick clenched his fists.

“No,” she finally said. “Not anytime soon.”