The door opened and Emily entered carrying a tray of food. The boy was sound asleep on the bed, though he obviously did not rest well. He was leaning against the windowsill, his head lying on his arm.

She cracked a small smile as she set down the tray and moved to examine him. She did a quick weave of a scanning spell mixing in a bit of divine energy and let the spell settle around Philip. His heart was normal as well as his blood pressure. There was nothing different about his physical state, and his wounds were healing well. If that was all that was wrong with him he could leave in just another day or two.

But his core still felt cold. She felt a minor pulse of magic come from it once in a while but the magic refused to remain.

Emily recalled her adventuring days. The core inside the boy was similar to a monster’s core after it had been cut out of the body. Whatever he did to avoid the crowds was the equivalent of ripping out his heart. What it needed was a lot more time and special attention to keep the magic flowing in his body, meaning regular checkups.

And defense. The sighting of an ancient phantasm last night was worrisome. She wrote a letter to the Dean and Array Master to double check the wards around the University. The creature appearing might be a sign they are failing, meaning there could be extreme casualties. Casualties means angry families, and that headache was not something Emily was willing to deal with.

If it came to that, she might as well go back to adventuring.

She finished her scan and did a quick glance around the room. The divine shield was still holding well, and she breathed a prayer of thanks to the goddess for her grace of gifting her the power to keep it going.

Emily left the room and locked the door on the way out. A physical key as well as a magical one, just to be safe from a greedy idiot.

She entered the main room of the clinic and paused. Rupert, dressed in his usual fine black robe, was waiting with a large tome in his hand.

“He is not awake yet,” Emily sniffed as she continued toward her office.

“Then wake him,” Rupert demanded, only to be ignored as Emily entered her office.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the annoying man insisted, following after her.

Emily decided it was not worth her time to waste words with the dense man. If he hadn't learned that she was in charge here by now then he was a lost cause.

The smell of herbs and preservatives waft around her as she moved through the office. Tables of glass instruments and ingredients lined every shelf, and on the tables held multiple measuring devices.

Alchemy was relaxing. Not only was it an exact science, but almost anything was possible with a little imagination. Not like she liked to experiment outside what was comfortable. Healing potions were the most enjoyable to make, as well as stamina and mana.

She turned to a small cauldron which was bubbling lazily with a deep blue brew. She started this one two nights ago when she received a letter from the Hermit Headmaster about an injured student who struggled with magic. She didn’t realize at the time how serious his case was, but the medication should be done soon.

“Emily!” Rupert roared as he slammed his fist on the table. The cauldron rocked slightly but held its location.

Emily swung around and called upon the divine graces. A pole of golden light formed in her grasp and she slammed it against the idiotic man. He was thrown off his feet and out the door of her lab. The sound of cracking chairs resounded as he crashed onto the floor.

Emily stormed out of her office after making sure the brew hadn’t been ruined and slammed the door closed behind her.

“You are not welcome here.” She pointed the pole at Rupert. “Leave.”

“You might be in charge of his health, but I am in charge of his education.” Emily’s eye twitched as Rupert spit a bit of blood onto the floor. He pulled out a piece of parchment and fluttered it knowingly. “He can stay here, but I’m allowed to teach.”

Emily snatched the piece of paper and let the pole dissipate. It was from the Dean ordering her to let ‘Professor Blackledge’ teach his pupil during the recovery. Emily sighed and pulled a string of fire which wrapped around the parchment setting it ablaze.

“I choose what happens in this hospital, not you or Omar. If you have a problem then take it up with the Arch-Priest, not me.” She turned away and started toward the chapel.

Wood crackled as Rupert stood up. Emily gave him a quick glance and saw him stumble slightly, holding his ribs. Perhaps she went a little too far, but nobody messes with her medicine. Nobody.

She sighed before sending a prayer of healing toward him.

He won't heal immediately, but it’ll be good as new by lunchtime. A few hours of pain might soften his stupidity a little.

“He must learn,” Rupert coughed another bit of blood. This one, Emily knew from experience, was because the healing was working. “We don’t have time for him to heal. The weeks you proposed are unacceptable.”

“Weeks for him to gain his magic back,” Emily snapped. She turned and glared at him. Maybe another smack would help? “He can use magic if we feed him mana potions, but he will not be able to generate his own until he fully heals. You will not be cutting his core until I deem him healed.”

“Fine!” Rupert growled. “But theory is not cutting a core. Neither is meditation, or weaving practice. He can do all of those with just a mana potion or two which will help me understand exactly where he stands.”

“You truly do wish to teach him, don’t you?” Emily asked, taken aback.

“Of course!” Rupert said. “I wouldn’t have taken him in unless I was serious.”

Emily paused and thought for a few moments. Rupert and Omar were both untrustworthy. They had proved that over and over again over the years. But if he was serious about teaching the boy then maybe it would be good to give him a chance. Who knows, maybe he’ll redeem himself.

Emily snorted. That happening was as likely as a sunken island to return from the sea of clouds.

“Fine, but you will wait for him to wake up.” Emily gave in. “Last night was a trial he was ill prepared for.”

“This has not been his first time in a clinic, Emily,” Rupert let out a laugh.

“But it was his first time dealing with a wraith.”

Rupert froze, then did a panicked look around.

“A wraith? Where did it come from? How is there one here?”

“It was an ancient wraith from before the islands,” Emily sighed. “And elf from all appearances.”

“Before the cataclysm?” Rupert breathed. “How is that possible? That would mean it has been hiding away for hundreds… no, thousands of years.”

Emily nodded as she checked her tether to the divine shield around the boys room. It still held strong, and there was no movement inside.

“There are more than tunnels hidden in the islands, Rupert,” Emily quoted. “You and I should know better than most.”

Rupert flinched at the reminder.

“Do not worry,” Emily said. “He was untouched. Just shocked by the wail.”

“Thank the gods,” Rupert prayed. Emily arched a brow at the rare sight. “But why did it come here? How could it ignore the wards?”

“Every ward has a hole, and with so many wards and holes they might even make a tunnel,” Emily explained. “And the boy’s core is hurt. Why else do you think he is being hunted?”

“This is why you refuse to let him go,” Rupert finally realized. “How long have you known about the dead–”

“Every priest knows, moron,” Emily snapped. “You think mages stay safe because of your reputation? Forces beyond even your understanding work tirelessly to protect humanity.”

“But the gods have abandoned us,” Rupert coughed. “Everyone knows that.”

Emily laughed darkly. Nobody sees miracles like in the Time of Heros anymore, so they claim the gods have left. What fools they all are.

“If the gods have left then how can I still defeat a wraith alone?” She asked. “Not only alone, but apparently also without notifying anyone that the undead even appeared?”

Rupert had no reply and instead bent over to pick up the tome from the rubble.

“The boy still needs to learn,” he mumbled.

“Fine,” Emily gave in. “Just wait until he wakes up. You can wait in his room.”

Rupert nodded and strode off. His usual pride and arrogance seemed to be dimmed a little. Maybe Emily finally got through to him? If she did then it would be fifteen years worth the effort. Maybe miracles do still happen in today's day and age.

Emily whispered a prayer that her hopes were true and went back into her office.

Philip awoke as the light pierced his eyes. The afternoon sun was a harsh alarm, but he felt better after the events from the night before.

He glanced around the room only to see Blackledge sitting patiently at a table in the room. His eyes were closed and strongs of mana were swirling around him. They were not weaving into any spell, but instead flowed back and forth. Soon a small pebble of darkness appeared from one of the strings and deposited it into a container.

Meditation and purification. One of the most basic and important teachings of a mage.

Philip watched for a long while, examining Blackledge’s technique. The strings were different thicknesses as they came out of his body, maybe a different sized facet on the core? They also moved more erratically from their sources, giving the tips the swirling appearance as the entire string moved.

All too soon the strings disappeared into the air and Blackledge let out a satisfied sigh. He turned and gave Philip a knowing smile, making Philip swallow since he had been caught.

“The Snake’s Coil,” Blackledge said. “A meditation technique of coiling your mana around the core and searching for imperfections. A good technique for one who has had their cut completed.”

Philip just nodded. It was an advanced technique, then. Not one given to novices who were still too rough.

“I have been informed of your current condition,” Blackledge stated. “I have also been informed that you will still be taught despite your core not producing mana.”

“How?” Philip asked. What could he be taught if he can’t make mana?

“Meditation, obviously,” Blackledge chuckled. “You will just have to do it the hard way.”

Philip frowned. Meditation? It was what he practiced the most since it felt the most useful. With purer mana, he could cast more powerful spells despite the weaves being simpler. Why other students rushed to learn complex spells he didn’t understand, though his tendency to do things slowly made him appear slow which didn't bother him before when he wanted to stay out of other’s sights.

“Okay, lets get started,” Blackledge clapped. “First get comfortable. Over here on the sheet.”

Blackledge pulled a sheet which was folded on the table and set it down onto the floor. Philip reluctantly stood up and went over to it.

“Just meditation today?” He asked.

“Just meditation,” Blackledge confirmed. “Now sit.”

Philip sighed and sat on the cloth. Blackledge placed his hand on Philip’s back and injected a bit of mana into him.

“I’m going to examine your core to see…” he paused. Philip tilted his head and saw Blackledge’s face wide in surprise. “What did you do?”

“I lived,” Philip shrugged. “Ask Emily if you want details. I don’t know anything.”

Blackledge coughed and continued his scan. Philip felt the foreign mana flow through his body. The sensation was uncomfortable, to say the least. It was like a hard slime flowing over every part of his inside. It even felt like some residue remained after Blackledge finished probing the area.

“I am done,” Blackledge suddenly said. “Your core is… not damaged. It just isn’t producing mana.”

“So I’ve been told,” Philip deadpanned.

“Your pathways feel good, though,” Blackledge continued. “They are actually surprisingly clear. I wonder if this is from your practice in meditations or a trait of a quickcaster?”

“You go me,” Philip waved off. “Should I start meditating or not?”

“Brat,” Blackledge spat. “I’m taking time out of my day to teach you while you’re stuck here. Be thankful.”

“Thank you for teaching me,” Philip dismissed.

Blackledge glared at Philip for a few moments before grasping the top of Philip's head and shoving it to face forward.

“Close your eyes and relax, brat,” Blackledge sighed. “Clear your mind and–”

“Go inside myself,” Philip finished. “I know the basics.”

“Then shut your mouth and just follow directions,” Blackledge snapped. “We repeat the mantra every time to refresh our minds and remember the steps. By skipping a basic step like this you’ll make mistakes.”

Philip felt his back stiffen in frustration. The man was treating him like a child. Though perhaps he was acting like one. The man did come to each him, despite being stuck at the clinic.

Philip let out the breath he was holding and consciously started to release his muscles. They were surprisingly taunt.

“Say the Mantra,” Blackledge repeated.”

Philip let out an irritated grunt but decided to follow directions.

Blackledge started the mantra again and Philip joined in with him, speaking it with Blackledge as they both settled into the trance.

He let out his breath. Then inhaled again and repeated. Every breath was a focus on another muscle, starting from his feet and ending up at the top of his head. The exercises actually helped lessen the throbbing from the creature’s scream the night before.

Once the muscles were dealt with his focus turned to his injuries. The constant pricks of the scabs and protests of bruises broke his concentration. He turned inward further and isolated the parts which gave him the most trouble. He mentally massaged the pathways around the injuries, lowering the swelling and helping the slimy mana of Blackledge through.

It took time and patience. The repetitive motions of massaging helped Philip tune out the world and fall deeper into himself. As he finished the worst of the pathways he felt others pulsing. He moved to them and continued. Then to the next section.

TIme immeasurable passed, but soon his entire system was flowing steadily with no noticeable hiccups. Before he could move deeper the slimy mana started to change. It began to scrape against the now relaxed pathways, each time it hit a bit of it pushed and pulled against the walls.

He started to protest against the intrusion, but as he watched he noticed the pushing and pulling taking away small slivers. He moved forward and examined the work. The walls were relaxed and opened, but on closer inspection there were grooves etched into them. The impression Philip got was the erosion of soil from flowing water.

Each piece taken off was a large hill the mana had to overcome, so with it removed the slimy mana started to flow better. It started to stick less and less, feeling more like the energy he naturally felt.

Philip decided to take a hold of some of the mana, and it willingly came under his control. He pushed it against the walls and felt the grooves. It was like brushing up against wet wood. They were malleable but still stiff enough to require effort to take off. He pulled against a piece but before it came off the mana was snatched from him. Philip grasped after it but the mana took a hold of the sliver he was working on and carefully tugged it off.

[Gently]

The voice of Blackledge echoed within him. Philip felt the mana come under his control again and he started the flow again. He was tugging too tightly against the snag. It was not being yanked off, but slowly rubbed off. That was the impression he got from the example Blackledge just gave him.

Philip continued this exercise throughout his pathways. He felt the grooves across the entire pathway system, but most were not extremely large. The entire examination only found a little over a dozen snags which he rubbed out.

Soon he completed the task, but there was a problem. Each sliver he took off was floating in the mana. He was looking for a place to deposit it but they were stuck inside his body because the magic wouldn’t leave. Whenever Blackledge’s slimy mana got close to his core it went around it, refusing to even get close.

Philip pondered how to fix this until Blackledge took a hold of the mana again, and an uncomfortable pulse erupted from within.

Philip felt himself gag as his pathways were forcibly pushed outward. Small pockets appeared to open up which let out a small bit of mana, and inside that mana were the slivers. The pulse erupted again and Philip felt his body fall, but he couldn’t leave. His mind felt stuck inside as a third pulse went.

This continued over and over again, more and more mana was expelled and slowly bubbled upwards, disappearing out of his body.

For far too long Philip coughed and gagged, fighting to regain consciousness. In what felt like hours he finally grasped a tangible item and he pulled.

He opened his eyes and vomited on Blackledge’s robe. The man had a disgusted look, but he also did not appear surprised.

It smelled foul. Worse than anything Philip could remember. Worse than the spoiled milk Lily hid in his room when they first came to the University.

“Wha–” He tried to ask before another wave of nausea hit him and he fell back onto the floor to purge himself.

“I did warn you we’d be doing this the hard way,” Blackledge gloated. “Now while you clean yourself up I must go clean my robe.”

He stood up and left for the door. Philip tried to curse him but another movement hit him and he fell back to the floor. The sheet he was lying on was covered in filth. His clothes stuck to him from something which oozed out of his pores. He felt like he had not had a shower in years.

Blackledge’s study sessions were the worst.

Philip debated whether he wanted to deal with the creature from the night before again, but quickly changed his mind. Blackledge was a terrible person, but that thing… it was a terror far beyond the instructor.

He forced himself back up and coughed out wads of whatever taint his body rejected. He felt the remainder of Blackledges mana flow through him, and it felt good. He felt much more energized than ever before.

The process was terrible, but the results… not too bad.

Philip smiled. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all?