1 Chapter 1 - In the Beginning

I couldn't move. It was a terrifying feeling. But worse still, I was powerless. I Cast my mind as far as I dared, but there was only an empty darkness. I Cast again. Nothing. I was in a void. No mana to draw strength from. No people or living things around me, just . . . nothing. I felt as though I were the only thing alive, as if an unimaginable power had extinguished all energy in the universe and left only me. I felt despair rise within me, a piercing regret, not just of having failed, but of trying to succeed—no—of being foolish enough to simply exist.

"….arren! Warren!" I could barely make out their voices. Was I imagining them? "Warren, fight it! . . . ou're not alone . . . we're comi. . ." The voices were hard to make out. They were distant and I was certain they would not make it in time, for I could hold on no more and—

I was awake. I Cast my mind around me and experienced immediate relief as I sensed the flow of mana and the presence of the manor's staff. The cook was in the kitchen, likely whipping up some delicious biscuits and poached eggs. An errand boy was walking down the hallway, picking up bedding for the wash or delivering a message.

Confident that all was right in the world, I jumped out of bed and stretched. I took a deep breath, held it for a second, and then slowly let it out, doing my best—but failing—to force the lingering dread from my mind.

The nightmares were getting worse. This one felt the most real of them yet.

I shook my head. This was not the day for bad dreams and ill omens. I needed a clear mind to deal with my final exams.

I dressed without wasting any time, opting for a tunic and comfortable trousers, both made from a lightweight wool that was breathable and practical. They were grey and plain, a student's uniform.

A quick check in the mirror told me I was in dire need of a haircut, for my wavy dark brown, almost black hair was growing down into my eyes and past my ears. I had been cramming these past few weeks and had spared no time for things like grooming. At least the hazel eyes that looked back at me seemed bright and clear enough, with only small dark circles under them to suggest I had been short on sleep as of late.

I fought back the urge to rush straight to the site of my exams and forced myself to sit on the floor and meditate for a few minutes to attune myself to the mana around me. My father had taught me from my earliest lessons not to spend all my energy trying to get the mana to obey, but also to practice listening to it, regularly and often. I asked him on several occasions why I should bother, and he would say that it was more fun if I figured it out myself.

And so—on as many days as I could remember—I did as he taught and set aside a few minutes in the morning to clear my mind. Then I would . . . well I would listen. Once you learned how, it was easy to hear mana, for even without trying it felt like a noisy crowd outside your room, unintelligible, but noticeable. The hard part was making out what anyone was saying. It always seemed like gibberish, but lately I felt like the gibberish was trying to tell me something. Not with words—it was more of a feeling. The harder I tried, the less I understood, but sometimes, when I just let my mind wander, I began to feel like I could make sense of the chaos, that it was speaking to me. It was like a friend making their way through the busy crowd, and as they get closer and closer, I could start to recognize their voice amidst all the others, perhaps even catch a word or two. But as soon as I focused on it, the voice would vanish. Within a few minutes I would start to think I had never heard anything to begin with.

Today there were no such inklings and after a few unproductive minutes I gave up, unable to focus on anything in my nervous state. I stood up, brushed the wrinkles from my trousers, and pushed open the heavy oak door that led out of my chambers and into the hallway. If I hurried, I would have enough time for a small bite to eat before my exams began. My mouth began to water at the thought of freshly baked biscuits.

It was a short trip to my exam. Apart from the library, which was two levels, the entire building was one level—a long, curved structure that formed a nearly complete circle. The center of that circle was a courtyard where you would find a stable, a smithy, and a training yard. None of this was particularly fancy, but every inch of the manor and property on which it sat was well maintained and exuded purpose. And I knew every inch, for it had been my home as long as I could remember.

I hurried through the kitchen, not bothering to grab a plate or to sit for a meal. I took a few biscuits that were on a table to cool, pausing only briefly to nod at Rodrick, the cook. He was a thin, balding man, who didn't seem like the sort who enjoyed eating the fruits of his labors. Despite this fact, he never disappointed with his dishes. I was confident he was the most irreplaceable of all the manor's staff.

"Warren, slow down!" Rodrick shouted at me as I made my way out of the kitchen. "Today is too important a day to skip a good breakfast!"

I spun around and gave Rodrick an apologetic shrug as I crammed one of the biscuits into my mouth. I spun back around and kept up my almost run.

After polishing off a second biscuit, I entered the library, where I would be doing the first portion of today's tests. Here, I would show mastery of various subjects like math and the elements. Assuming this morning wasn't a total disaster, I was told I would then move on to the main event: magecraft.

I looked around. The room was a spacious rectangle with books upon books along its walls and nothing to block my view. There was no one here. I walked by the large reading table located in the center of the room, where I had done countless hours of studying, and saw a small piece of parchment near one of its edges. I picked it up and flipped it over twice to be certain I wasn't missing something. It simply read: "Congratulations on passing part one, now meet me at the training yard for the real test. M.E." M.E.—Mathias Elusen. My father.