Duke Xavier Sion stood by a window within his estate, overlooking a tranquil field. Outside, a spring sun shone down upon two figures.

  His son—or rather his son by birth—hovered fifteen feet above the ground, standing atop a shining platform of interlocking golden lines. Mana wove about him, manipulated by deft hand movements and twists of his wrists, like a conductor orchestrating a deadly performance. Beams as thin as a finger danced between mirrored lenses, splitting into an incandescent web of light.

  The spell was one designed by the Duke's great-grandmother and refined over the years, creating an attack that could cut down twenty foes at once. It was inescapable, an assault of such complexity and intricacy that it should be impossible to dodge, particularly at close range.

  And somehow, despite that, the attack missed.

  Duke Sion's son by choice was a blur of green and black. The boy danced between cutting lines of light, moving with inhuman speed and grace as though he knew where each would strike before it landed. Whatever the mage had done to himself granted his body agility and reflexes beyond what should be possible, even with magical reinforcement.

  The Aether mage flowed towards his opponent with smooth, seemingly choreographed movements. Each step carried him twice as far as it should, a flicker of green around his legs revealing the presence of a movement spell. Green armor covered his body, a faint emerald sheen covered the point of the weapon in his left hand, and two daggers of the same material floated behind his back.

  Their duel had lasted several minutes now, a small eternity for battles between most mages. Typically, such encounters would end in seconds, and it spoke to their familiarity with one another that this had gone on so long. Even more strangely was the flatness of it all, without any of the back-and-forth that characterized most fights between near-equals.

  As the gap between the two narrowed to a scant twenty feet, Vayne slid to a halt. Aether gathered around his legs, and he crouched low to the ground. Then, in a shimmer of green, he vanished. Duke Sion had already drawn his own light mana into a simple strengthening spell, and he watched as the young man shot through the air like a ballista bolt towards Flynn.

  Flynn must have done the same, reacting with impressive, bordering on superhuman, speed. One hand rose, the lenses rearranging in a blur even as the other wove light mana into a new spell. A beam, thick around as a man's torso, shot forward, slammed into the nearest curved glass, and split into a dozen hair-thin, slicing lines. These in turn bounced between the other, floating mirrors, creating an impermeable, razor-sharp shield in just seconds.

  Duke Sion suspected Vayne could've torn through the shield and survived, though he'd likely take at least some damage. The Aether mage had impressive resilience and raw power, but not enough to render Flynn's magic ineffective.

  Instead, Vayne seemed to make a decision. The mana around him glowed a brighter green, and his momentum slowed. It wasn't enough to stop his jump, but that adjustment bought him just enough time to gather more Aether and launch himself to the side, away from both Flynn and a nasty collection of cuts.

  Duke Sion expected Vayne to fall back to the ground, and once more found himself surprised. Vayne twisted in mid-air, and again his momentum slowed. Mana gathered beneath him, forming what looked like a faint surface, and he pushed off, launching himself towards Flynn in another charge.

  Flynn didn't show his true emotions often. He'd learned to hide his thoughts behind a mask of casual arrogance, and few could see past it. Genuine surprise was a rarity, but the Duke caught the tightening around his son's eyes and the tensing in his posture. His heir was slow to respond, taking a heartbeat longer than usual, which was a small eternity in these sorts of duels.

  But that delay wasn't enough to win Vayne the day.

  Vayne must have sensed the change in mana. He threw his right arm up, Aether streaming into the bracer around his forearm even as Flynn thrust his left hand forward. A river of molten light burst from him, strong enough to turn a man into a charred husk. It crashed into Vayne, cascading around the semi-translucent shield that had appeared around him and splitting into thin streams of multi-colored radiance.

  The attack failed to break Vayne's shield, but the sheer force was enough to throw the mage back to the ground. Vayne hit the grass and dirt, digging a furrow through it as momentum pushed him back. He tumbled, planted his hand, twisted, and was back on his feet in a blur, even as Flynn began preparing another attack.

  Duke Sion knew how this battle would end. He'd watched them do this same dance more than once since the Aether mage had arrived, and thought he had a measure of the two.

  Flynn was a more skilled mage overall, but was unable to land a telling blow. Vayne was just too fast and had improved his defenses enough to make for a very difficult opponent to put down. Those, combined with his inhumanly tempered vessels and monstrous mana reserves, allowed him to fight for far longer than most.

  But Vayne had focused too narrowly. He was an exceptionally dangerous mage in close quarters, to the point where the Duke doubted most adepts could safely fight him at short range, but his style faltered at a distance. Sure, the Aether mage could control those solidified mana blades, and he'd mastered rudimentary force magic, but those weren't enough. His only real option was to try and close the gap with Flynn, cutting him down with that swordstaff of his, which proved a tall task.

  This duel, as with their others, was one of attrition. They lasted only until one of them ran out of patience or out of mana. And so far, only one of them had done either of those things.

  Xavier had always known Flynn would surpass him. Even as a child, his son had been brilliant. Lazy, aimless, and prone to arrogance, but with an innate genius beyond what had seemed possible.

  His heir apparent had learned his lessons well, digesting magic theory at an incredible pace, perfecting his meditative skills in days rather than weeks, and mastering exercises in physical movement and voice control. Even before his Awakening, the would-be mage had crafted a perfect foundation.

  And then he had become a mage and revealed the true depths of his talents. Flynn mastered spells in a fraction of the time his father had taken, and did so with seeming ease. He understood how to improve his magic on an intuitive level, perfected the basics before his seventeenth birthday, and processed new mana at a pace that beggared belief. Only his aimlessness had kept him from breaking their family's record on advancement speed.

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  The Duke had marveled at the change in Flynn after that first encounter with the Aether mage. His lazy child had become focused, driven in a way he'd never seen. He'd pored over documents on light magic, spent hours training alone, and worked himself to near-exhaustion for weeks. It had faded, as such bursts of inspiration tended to do, but it was enough to show his son's potential...if he could only recapture that drive.

  When Flynn had brought home the wayward Aether mage, it had seemed an acceptable risk. The boy was untrustworthy, prone to impulsive whims, wholly without friends or allies, and of moderate talent bolstered by impressive drive and focus. He was, in short, a gamble, but one worth taking if it reignited Flynn's determination.

  And when Flynn had come to him in private, demanding that he be allowed to undergo their ancestor's ritual with his newfound "brother", Xavier had scoffed. The notion that his heir, destined for greatness, might stand beside someone like that was laughable. The Aether mage would never keep up with Flynn.

  It wasn't often that Xavier second-guessed himself.

  Vayne wasn't without talent. He was a quick study, could integrate Aether into his core easily, and had at least some intuitive sense for magic. Flynn surpassed him in these regards, but Vayne was certainly above average. What truly set him apart was something far more challenging to quantify.

  Most mages pursued magic as a means to an end. They learned spells well enough to cast them and improved their skills for a particular goal. However, the vast majority lacked any genuine interest in the fundamentals behind such abilities. They were fundamentally incurious people, uncaring about how magic worked and interested only in ensuring that it did.

  Vayne was, if anything, too curious. He didn't seek magic just to learn a skill but to understand its deepest secrets. What's more, he had a gift for grasping those concepts, desiring not just the how but the why. And even more remarkably than that was his ability to pluck out the relevant components and apply them to the rest of his magic.

  That his boundless curiosity had come with inexhaustible drive was both remarkable and dangerous. Xavier had seen such mages lose themselves in their studies, pursuing improvement to the detriment of all else.

  But the results spoke for themselves. Flynn had improved by leaps and bounds, having ascended to Drop when most of his peers would be lucky to touch Cloud. His control had become almost perfect, his mastery over the basic Sion family spells enough to omit incantations entirely, his skill in arrays years ahead of Xavier's own at that age, and his speed and precision seemed to grow daily.

  Xavier watched them duel and considered their plan once more. Flynn had asked for leave to visit Volaris, to recruit a new mage and, more alarmingly, to learn Alexandria's secrets. Such a plan would necessitate combing the Archives or, more likely, meeting with the Archmagus herself.

  It was a daring, reckless plan, the sort that Flynn likely wouldn't consider. His son was ambitious, but not to that extent. Vayne however...

  He watched the two continue their duel and made his decision. So long as Flynn continued to grow, he would be allowed such leeway. If Xavier was right, and Vayne proved untrustworthy, his elder son might learn a valuable lesson. However, if Flynn proved correct, then he would have gained a true brother in deed if not by blood.

  ---

  I flowed along the grass, dodging another barrage of burning lines that threatened to slice me in two. Flynn's damned web of light spell was almost impossible to dodge, and avoiding it burned through my reserves like dry kindling.

  Flynn still floated overhead, a confident smile on his face and both hands raised. He caught my glower, smiled wider, and spread his arms in as obvious a provocation as I could imagine.

  Far be it for me to refuse an invitation.

  I tightened my grip on the four spells surging through my body. My armor buzzed, the strength in my limbs redoubled, the hum in my legs became almost painful, and the glow around my swordstaff burned. Even the daggers behind me, which felt clumsy in my mental grasp, seemed to vibrate.

  Then, I sighed and shook my head, relaxing my core as I straightened up. My magic fell away, mana flickering and fading into nothing.

  "You win!" I shouted, flourishing my weapon in a salute.

  Flynn floated down to the ground, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stepped off with casual ease. He crossed the gap between us, and I was satisfied to see that sweat covered his forehead, and his breathing sounded strained. Small victories, if nothing else.

  "Nothing new there, eh?" Flynn said, smiling despite himself. I rolled my eyes, then turned my focus on the weapon.

  Nine days. My latest attempt at Mana Edge had lasted nine days before it became too unstable to risk using. Not bad, considering I had shortened the process of making them down to less than an hour.

  "One of these days," I muttered under my breath, even as I reached into the blade and broke it apart. My daggers followed soon after, mostly as an afterthought rather than out of necessity. Destruction wasn't viable in combat yet, but I liked to practice whenever and wherever possible.

  "You almost caught me that time," Flynn replied. He must've caught my skepticism, continuing, "Honestly. I didn't know you could adjust your direction that quickly. Force magic?"

  I shook my head. "Not entirely, no. I started experimenting with creating platforms under my feet as you do, so I had a surface to push off."

  "Copying my moves, eh? Why not use those daggers?"

  "I can't control them at the same time as using the rest of my magic yet. My goal for now is to make just holding them effortless. Then, I can start throwing them around in battle."

  "And your movements. You seemed quicker. Harder to follow."

  I allowed myself a smile at that one. It had taken more than a few sleepless nights over the past weeks to make the adjustments to my fighting style, but I was more than happy with the results.

  "Let's call it an epiphany. I realized dancing may have more uses than just social obligations," I explained, holding out a hand to my side. A towel hanging from a nearby fence flew towards us, landing in my palm with a soft thud, and I used it to wipe my face clean of the sweat and grime.

  "Dancing? Really? I'm not doubting that you turned it into some lesson on magic, but why dancing of all things?"

  I settled into an exaggerated stance, one that I had used for years. "My movements are predictable, particularly when I use Flicker Step. I've been caught more times than I can count trying to close the gap. I think blending the more fluid motions of dancing along with the footwork from fencing I learned from my old master can fix that flaw."

  What I didn't explain was the possible downsides. Most of the steps and stances Sigmund had taught me were designed to maximize power and leverage through rooted footwork. Sacrificing that was a trade-off, but if I did perfect my force magic enough to hold myself in place with magic, then I wouldn't need such mundane things anymore. I could use light, fluid movements without sacrificing strength in the process.

  Flynn considered my words, then a sly grin appeared on his face. He closed the gap between us, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. "And when we visit Volaris, you can sweep Vesper Ollais off her feet with your peerless skills on the dance floor."

  I ignored the joke, which Flynn must have read as annoyance. He was right, obviously, but that seemed to only encourage him as he added, "Or that ice mage friend you've told me about."

  "I don't plan on sweeping anybody off of anything," I replied, shrugging his arm off and stepping away. "Ideally, I won't see Amelia or the others at all."

  "Why not? You talk about her often enough that—"

  I turned a flat stare at him, and Flynn held up both hands. "Okay, okay. I'll drop it."

  "Thanks," I said, sighing as I pushed my hair back. It had grown longer, but the shade now veered closer to black. I attributed this change to my familiar bond, which continued to affect me in unforeseen—and somewhat unwelcome—ways.

  The truth was, I wanted to see Amelia and the others. I had been busy since parting ways with them, and that had made it easy to look past certain emotions. But the stability of my time with the Sions had robbed me of that excuse.

  I missed them in a way I hadn't expected. Yet at the same time, a part of me knew it was ridiculous. I barely knew most of them. Simon and Amelia had been a part of my life for less than a year, while Leon and Sophia were the strangest mixture between familiar and distant.

  Visiting them felt like I was clinging to something that had never existed. There weren't any lifelong friendships to rebuild or lost romances to rekindle. I had barely known them, and pretending otherwise felt as though I was lying to myself.

  Besides that, I had never received any kind of response to my letter. Belated or not, I had thought Amelia might send something. It was ridiculous to expect that, given how long I had taken to reach out, but it helped strengthen my resolve.

  I realized that Flynn was staring at me, and folded my arms across my chest. "What?"

  "Nothing. Just want to be sure you're going to be ready. We leave in two days."

  I allowed myself to picture my friends sitting around a campfire one more time before forcibly shoving the image from my mind. "Completely."

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