When Mahon went back to school in the morning after yet another convoluted path, Zac had already left for Slander’s session. Mahon checked the sun and realized the training must have started at least an hour ago.

Too late to join now.

Not bothered too much by that fact, Mahon went to his bed and shifted to Nightmare. He had a couple hours before him, and he went to walk around the dreamy land as a restful break. Replaying important scenes of his day while pacing leisurely in Nightmare had become second nature to him.

Most of his days were split between the school’s obligations and secret missions for the Fada cult. When he had been patrolling with Zac, he could at least plan his rest, but now the cultists' missions were too erratic and unpredictable to keep such a schedule. School asked him for things and the cultists for others. Sometimes he went to bed during the day, other times at night.

His strong affinity with Nightmare allowed him to rest whenever he needed to, and in the last month, he had been more akin to going there twice a day for a short rest than for a full night. The new rhythm didn’t seem to bother him too much, though, and deep in his heart, he was glad to have an easy excuse to delay the day he would have to leave Nightmare for good.

Mahon ended his pensive Nightmare walk in time for lunch and joined Zac, who had just finished Slander’s session.

“Good training?” He asked.

“No.” Zac threw him a falsely angry look. “Since you skipped the lesson, I couldn’t fight in the rings, and Slander took a wicked pleasure to make me work even harder on the stances. He said I had the potential to pass his first training and gave me two months to succeed.”

Mahon looked at his friend, who seemed both proud and annoyed, and clapped his shoulder.

“Congrats! And sorry for skipping it, I came back too late from the cultists’ meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Zac chased his excuses with a gesture of his hand. The two friends perfectly knew Zac wasn’t even bothered by it. “You think Slander is right, though? That I could join advanced training in two months?”

The two men grabbed their meals and went to sit down at their usual table to pursue their conversation.

“Hmm… I think Slander is the best to judge this kind of thing, so…”

“But I want to hear your opinion.”

“My opinion? In that case…” Mahon flashed a mischievous smile. “If you answer one question of mine, I’ll answer you.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Zac asked with suspicion.

“Do you want my opinion or not?”

“Yeah, ok, go on. Shoot your question.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” Zac asked back, uncertain.

“Your bed wasn’t unmade when I woke up.”

“Ah! That…”

“Yes, that.”

“You know, you’re right. Slander probably knows better.” Zac smiled.

Mahon joined the scouting lesson for his first specialized lesson of the afternoon. Since the day he had finished Slander’s training, it was his fourth scouting lesson. Considering that he had only been observing for his very first lesson, it was his third real training.

He was watching the little troop reinforcing its position in the woods with earth bricks when the professor magically appeared at his side.

“It’s time someone teaches you how to do that, sweetie.” She said out of the blue, causing Mahon to flinch in surprise.

He had definitely not gotten used to Nancy appearing at his side without his knowledge. And to his sharp senses, the old professor could as well have been non-existent. He was almost tempted to Flow to see if he could detect a rhythm coming from her.

“Come here, I’ll show you.” She gestured for him to come closer and started her impromptu lesson without waiting another second. “Earth magic can be made by anyone. And I mean it. Your natural abilities will only influence how fast you’ll be able to learn, but that’s it. So don’t give up, you’ll succeed eventually.”

Mahon nodded while the woman continued.

“Earth magic is essential for scouts, and I’ll not dive in the whys. Yordar told you more than enough in his lessons.” She glanced at Mahon, who, again, nodded. “So, how does it work? It’s different for most people, but usually it works best if you picture it as playing with sand and water.”

Mahon acquiesced slowly, trying to picture what she meant exactly. He had never played with sand.

“You’re trying to shape sand with a bucket of water. By humidifying the sand, you can make it change shape and reinforce it. Let’s say you have a little mound of sand.”

She extended her hand to the soil and used her magic. Within seconds, a little pile of mud appeared.

“If you drop your whole bucket of water on it, you’ll flatten it and it will be wasted.” She focused for an instant, and the pile started to melt in front of Mahon’s eyes. Before it fully disappeared, Nancy built back the pile of mud and pursued her explanation.

“If you put your finger in the water and let a drop fall on your pile of sand, it’ll take forever to get anything. And your sand will not be wet enough, solid enough, to support any charge.”

The professor mimicked her words, and the mud below her hands started to change ever so slightly. After a while, she kicked the pile and everything fell apart.

“The key here is to control the amount of water you use.”

She created another pile of mud and shaped it roughly into a cube, fifty centimeters large, as she continued her demonstration with a kind smile. She then kicked the structure, but the cube didn’t even get a scratch.

“Water is your earth’s magic power, and the sand is the earth you shape. Visualize it this way and you’ll soon shape sand. To know perfectly which amount you need to make solid earth bricks is something that’ll come afterwards with experience. It’s easier to start with sand, then mud, clay and finally solid earth. Focus on your hands and try to channel your power to make a cube out of this sand, as if you were projecting water.”

She took a bag of sand and spilled it on the ground in front of Mahon.

“Got it, sweetie? Think you can do it?”

“Uh… no. I need to think about projecting water with my hands?” Mahon asked with an unconvinced voice.

“Oh, sweetie, didn’t you listen? The water is your earth’s magic power. Try to visualize the process I described on this sand and you’ll see.”

Mahon glanced at the pile of sand with a dubious look. “I’m not sure it’s…” He started, but as he turned back to face the professor, he found no one. With a sigh, Mahon sat down in front of the sand and tried the exercise.

He positioned his hands around the pile of sand and, closing his eyes, he visualized how his hands should project water to modify the pile’s structure and shape out an angle. He opened his eyes after a few seconds, and the little mound stared right back at him, unchanged.

Fuck, it’s so stupid. How can someone do anything like that?

Mahon had learned a lot of things by himself. He knew patience. He knew how to listen to his body to notice the little changes that would make him improve. But this time, his body didn’t give him any hints. Any signal. Just a plain, heavy silence.

The Last Red wasn’t one to give up so easily, though. He lost himself in the task and for a full hour, he tried to visualize how his hands would use some invisible magic to shape the pile of sand.

“Mahon?”

He raised his head with surprise at the interruption, too focused on the task at hand to have noticed someone approaching. Jorik was standing a few meters beside him.

“Yes, First Black?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m practicing with earth magic.”

“Oh, I see.” Jorik glanced at the pile in front of Mahon. “The professor just gave you some sand, right? Take a few minutes to shape it then. It’s important to get the feelings with sand first. We can discuss afterwards.”

Mahon shook his head. “A few minutes? I got that sand an hour ago, and it still hasn't changed by a centimeter. We might as well discuss now.”

Jorik threw him a surprised look. “An hour?! But what have you been doing?”

Mahon shrugged and resumed his posture to show the First Black. Sitting cross-legged in front of the pile, he raised his two hands to each side of it. He closed his eyes, took a deep inspiration and focused on visualizing the flow of water shaping the sand, while regulating his breath. He held his concentration for a minute before opening his eyes to a shocked Jorik, and a still unchanged pile.

“Maybe the image of sand and water doesn't fit me.” Mahon shrugged. “I don’t fee…”

“Have you been Flowing just now?” Jorik interrupted.

“What? No, I just focu…” Mahon’s voice dried up as he replayed the scene in his mind.

Suddenly doubting his own memory, Mahon felt the need to try again. He extended his hand to each side of the pile. He closed his eyes and took a deep inspiration. He then realized his posture was very similar to the countless times he had meditated in Nightmare, and as soon as he breathed out while focusing on his hands, he entered the Flow.

He had not even triggered It, but it was normal for It to be there in such a focused moment, and so It had come by Itself. Mahon had Flowed every time he had been in this posture in Nightmare before, and even though it was Ratho, his body’s memory was too potent to ignore.

Mahon tried again to invoke earth magic, this time taking great care not to trigger the Flow. But his posture was so similar to his mediation one that as soon as he breathed in and out, the Flow was here. He tried a few more times, but he couldn’t even prevent himself from Flowing.

“You must be kidding…” Jorik said from the side, witnessing Mahon’s attempts not to Flow. The noble managed to regain his usual self-control shortly after. “Whatever, it’s your problem to deal with. You’re probably failing because of the Flow though. Earth magic and Flow don’t work well together.”

As he said so, Mahon couldn’t unsee the flash in the noble’s eyes. He tried this before. He knows how to Flow.

“Anyway, you will have more time to practice soon. We’re planning a scouting trip.”

“A scouting trip?” Mahon repeated.

“Two days away from school, where we go deeper into scouting lessons. There is a limit to what we can learn scouting inside of school. I couldn’t convince the professor to make you skip this one since you’re new, so you’ll have to take care of cultist issues. Or the lack of, should I say.”

Mahon understood the meaning behind Jorik’s words. He had to make sure he would not miss anything important with the cultists, because he wouldn’t be able to attend during that time.

“I also wanted to talk about the cultists.” Jorik threw a look around, but there was no other student close enough to pry into their discussion. “Do you have any news for me? It has been too long since their last mischief, and we think they might strike big and soon. You need to learn something about it. We can’t afford to be in the dark.”

“Actually, I might already know what this is…” Mahon started, and Jorik gestured for him to elaborate. “Yesterday, I had a mission with the cultists, but instead of the usual one, they gave me a test along with some others.”

“They promoted you?” Jorik intervened.

“Kind of. It’s indeed a promotion, but we’re still missing the final test to make it effective. I don’t know what it is exactly, but they called it a real operation and said we should be ready to die for it.”

“Fuck. It complicates things, then. What do you know exactly?”

“Not much. We’re fourteen contestants, but there are only twelve spots available for promotion. The final test will happen three days from now.”

Mahon went to explain how he had joined other candidates in the basement of a random mansion. How they had fought against themselves, and then his duel against Belanor. Jorik grimaced when he mentioned the veteran knew how to Flow, but he let Mahon continue his story.

He went on to describe the veiled lady and her mysterious interrogation. Mahon didn’t linger too long on his own thoughts at the time, but he still described how weird it had been and her questions about the war and the nobles.

“Wait a minute. That veiled lady… can you describe her veil?”

“Mostly black. Lace. Thick enough we can’t se…” Mahon started to describe it.

“The edge. How is the edge?” Jorik interrupted once again.

Mahon tried to remember if the edge was something special. “It’s just white and…”

“Fuck!!” Jorik swore loudly and kicked the ground at his feet. The noble walked a few meters before he managed to calm himself. “She is a White Reader. She can force you to tell the truth with some weird magic. That’s why you felt out-of-place afterwards. She must know you lied. The infiltration is a failure. They probably kept you around as bait for their operation.”

“I don’t think she knows.” Mahon said hesitantly.

“No, no, with your description of both the woman and the event, there is no way I’m mistaken. She knew you lied, even if you managed to hide it perfectly. It’s her magic. You can’t resist unless you Flow, and she can tell if you do, so…”

Mahon learned yet another information about the Flow, and he looked at Jorik with new eyes. The noble was very knowledgeable regarding the Flow. It would be strange if he didn’t know it himself. But why would he reveal so much to Mahon?

He discarded the question quickly enough, though, as there was a more important one he needed to answer right now. Mahon perfectly knew Maïa hadn’t caught him lying simply because he hadn’t been lying. That was what had saved him. But how could he reveal this to the noble?

Alas, if he didn’t, the infiltration would be stopped, and they wouldn’t have any better plans to stop the cultist. To what extent did Jorik only care about results? Zac seemed to trust the noble for that matter, but would he really ignore Mahon’s true feelings about the nobles and the war?

Mahon didn’t trust Jorik, but he trusted Zac, and he wanted to put an end to the Fada cult before they killed people he cared about. There wasn’t much of a choice, and Mahon felt confident he could handle Jorik if things turned sour. Just in case, he stood up and got ready to Flow.

“First Black?” He asked, stopping Jorik’s musing. The noble threw him a puzzled look.

“What?”

It’s time for the moment of truth. I hope you’re right, Zac.

“What if I didn’t lie?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a noble. I’m a Nightmare veteran.” Mahon elaborated, and it was more than enough for the smart First Black to connect the dots.

“Oh. I see.” Jorik stared straight at him with his frozen eyes, but Mahon didn’t shy away from his intense gaze. “Yes, not trusting the nobles is understandable. But you also want to stop the war, right? Because that’s what she must have asked you.”

Mahon didn’t answer. Instead, he returned the noble’s gaze without shivering. Jorik took a deep inspiration before continuing.

“So you’re saying they don’t know you’re a spy?”

“Yes.”

“How certain are you?”

“I could swear it on the Fada.” Mahon answered without any hesitation, and somehow it seemed to reassure Jorik.

“Could you also swear you want to stop the Fada cult?”

“Without any hesitation. I’m actually ashamed you would think I don’t want to stop murderous fanatics. At the orders of a noble family or not.” Mahon retorted with a chilling voice.

Jorik threw him a weird look before acquiescing slowly. “I’ll repeat what I’ve said before. I don’t give a damn what your real goals are at this school. You can keep them to yourself. As long as we agree to stop this cult, we can continue to work together.”

“It’s a deal then.”

“Good. So here is what we’re gonna do. You will attend this final test. If you’re here, then you can try to limit the damages. If that’s to give us a real insight into their plan and bring them all down, we can afford it. There is no point bringing this cult down just to see another one being created a month later. We need to stop the noble family behind this. Material cost is ok. But prevent deaths on our side to the utmost of your abilities. Is that clear?”

“Yes, First Black.”