Sig returned downstairs several minutes after our final match, carrying two glasses that smelled of something stronger than just water. He handed me one, then slid a chair out from near his workbenches and sat down before taking a deep pull from his own.

  I took an experimental sip, coughing as it seared down my throat like fire. The taste was sharp, cold, and strangely acrid, but with an undercurrent I couldn't quite place. It reminded me of a lemon, almost, but so biting that it became unpleasant.

  Sig watched me hack up a lung with a faint smile. As I caught my breath, he said, "Good, eh?"

  "Yeah," I coughed. "Fantastic. I love the feeling of drinking molten glass."

  He chuckled again before replying, "So, that's why you made those changes. You use magic to augment your martial skills, eliminating your weaknesses in the process. Don't need perfect footwork or leverage when you can move so quickly and add extra force at will."

  I nodded. "Precisely. You taught me that improving as a warrior comes from recognizing your strengths and weaknesses, and adjusting to maximize the first and minimize the second. Many of your techniques worked, but some didn't, so I made the needed changes."

  He didn't reply, so after a second's pause, I added. "You disapprove."

  Sigmund shook his head. "Not necessarily, but it's a risky choice. If your mana runs out, your style becomes much more dangerous. Relying on your magic is an inherent weakpoint, even if the product is so effective."

  "You could make the same argument for those who use weapons. The two of us included," I countered.

  Sig allowed the point with a nod. "You could. But knowing you, you've already begun considering a solution to that?"

  "You could say that."

  The older man chuckled, taking another drink before replying, "Your footwork is what throws me off the most, though. It resembles the fencing forms I taught you, but not perfectly. A few of the steps look almost like—"

  "Dancing?" I offered.

  "Well, now that you mention it."

  I sighed. "Yes, when I joined the Sions, it became necessary to train me as a true noble. My adopted brother insisted that many of my skills fell woefully short, dancing included. I realized after a few days that some of those new abilities might be transferrable. My existing footwork, particularly with my mobility spell, was just too predictable, and altering it helped disguise my movements."

  "It's unorthodox," Sig said, disapproval clear in his voice.

  "But effective," I replied, meeting his eyes without blinking.

  Sig stared at me, then snorted. "Really has been a while. Two years ago, you would've been falling all over yourself to listen to my advice."

  "Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate your advice. I just know that understanding and following aren't the same."

  Sig finished his drink, then placed it down on his table and sighed. "I'd love nothing more than to catch up more, and believe me, I expect you back here before you leave, but you should probably get going."

  "Why's that?" I asked.

  "Because I'm expecting company soon."

  I blinked, following his meaning. "Ah, I see. How soon is that?"

  "Within an hour. Maybe less. Depends on the day."

  Sig looked apologetic, but I smiled as I stood, finishing my own drink and placing it down on the workbench as I retrieved my coat.

  "Very well," I said, nodding once as I looked at Sig. "Would it be alright if I came by tomorrow? I'd like to talk more before I leave again."

  Sig stood, a mock glare on his face. "Kid, you ask me something like that again, and I don't care how much magic you learned. It won't stop me from kicking your ass."

  "Somehow, I don't doubt that you'd manage that."

  I bid Sig farewell and, after a brief consideration, decided to return to our rented rooms. There were a few ideas I wanted to try before declaring mind magic a lost cause.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Fortunatus had returned home at some point and was resting on the balcony overlooking the city. I sent him a mental greeting before taking a seat on the floor, using a pillow to keep myself comfortable.

  Most of the details of a mind palace were impossible to parse out, but there was one thing I could decipher. Namely, the world on which you constructed a mind palace was one that anyone could access. All they had to do was look inward and relax all conscious thought...supposedly.

  I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to clear my thoughts of errant emotions, memories, and passing impulses. It was easier said than done, as a thousand things clung to my waking mind like stubborn bits of lint, but one by one I pushed them away.

  Time passed, my breathing low and even. I felt Aether flowing into and out of my lungs, my core growing a little stronger even now. But soon, I realized that I wasn't actually thinking of nothing. Instead, I was thinking about thinking of nothing.

  I opened my eyes, grumbling as I rubbed my chin. Years ago, I had side-stepped meditation, considering it a waste of time when active focus could do the same and would better fit with my personality. There was some irony that such a shortcut had benefited me then and might hinder me now.

  "Do you want help?" a voice asked in my mind.

  I blinked, turning to see that Fortunatus had padded into the room to sit across from me.

  "...what?" I said aloud, then shook my head. "You could do that?"

  "Yes. Our minds are connected."

  I paused for only a second before nodding. "Do it."

  Fortunatus' eyes flashed, and the world spun. I felt a sensation as though the floor had fallen out from under me, my vision swam, then went black.

  I blinked hard, shaking my head, and pushed Aether through my body. When my sight cleared, I found myself not in a hotel room but somewhere else. Somehwere...familiar.

  A world of hazy mists surrounded it. Gray and white swirling clouds spread in all directions, thin at first but growing thicker and denser until they became an imperceptible wall, maybe twenty feet in every direction.

  Those same clouds gathered around my feet, shrouding my legs beneath mid-calf, and I looked up to find that there was a barrier of swirling mist a few feet over my head.

  It resembled nothing more or less than the Astral Plane, which was strange but not unexpected. Alexandira had noted that the precise appearance of your starting mental world varied, but that it often took the form of some significance to you. What would fit such a definition more than the place where I had realized my fate?

  As I looked around, I realized that Fortunatus was standing in the cloudy world, only a few steps away from me. However, he didn't resemble the cat I had come to know.

  Instead, Fortunatus was taller and broader, closer to a smallish dog than a large cat. His fangs were longer, his eyes glowed brilliant green, and I swore he was smiling.

  "Welcome," Fortunatus said. "To our shared world."

  "Our?" I asked, tilting my head.

  "Yes. Our bond does more than allow us to share magic. I can enter your mind, and you can enter mine. You've done it often. Didn't you realize?"

  "I...no, I assumed that was just our bond allowing our minds to speak with one another or brush against our thoughts. I hadn't realized it would cause something like this," I said, holding back a swear.

  It was an obvious possibility, and the fact that I had realized it was idiotic. I wanted to blame Fortunatus, but maybe he hadn't known what I wanted? Either way, it didn't make much of a difference.

  "How often do you come here?" I asked the cat.

  "Every day," Fortunatus replied.

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to," Fortunatus said, as though it was as simple as that.

  I smiled, shaking my head at his answer. It was blunt, yet entirely within his character. What was more feline than disappearing for days at a time, only to creep back in whenever you felt like it? I couldn't even be irritated at the violation of my privacy, because I had invited him into my mind and spirit. It was the very nature of our familiar bond, after all.

  But that did raise a few possibilities. Could I use that bond to somehow circumvent the natural meditative process? Fortunatus could pull me into this world, and if I could somehow memorize the feeling, I might be able to just do it at will.

  That would solve one issue, but only one. I still had no idea how to make a mind palace, after all, and the risks of fumbling around blindly were still enough to give me pause.

  But what was magic without risk?

  "One test," I muttered, nodding once in resolve. "Just one test. If this doesn't work, I'll speak with Flynn about our backup plan."

  I reached into my core, only to find a new, unforeseen problem. My body didn't feel like, well, anything. I could distantly sense my physical form, but it was as though I was dreaming. Not inaccurate, all things considered, but it made touching my Aether far more challenging.

  However, I could feel it.

  I began trying to pull my Aether into my mind, which was another issue entirely. I had no idea how to do such a thing and was relying entirely on intuition, focus, and will to bridge the gap.

  Worse, my mana felt as though I was trying to breathe through a wet cloth. My Aether was sluggish in a way I hadn't felt in years, stubbornly resisting my efforts. But slowly, it did listen, and I began to pull it together into a form I'd already settled on for my first test.

  A single, square tile.

  Alexandria had championed the idea of a firm foundation, and what better than a floor? All good homes needed one, and a mind palace was ultimately just a home by my estimate.

  Here, the third problem appeared. I could sense my Aether. I felt it draining into something. I could even detect something being created, drawn into existence by my will and power. Yet the mental world around me remained unchanged, and the space between my two outstretched hands was empty.

  I tried twice more, pushing more power into each than the last. By the third, I was drawing several times as much Aether from my core, packing it into the construct with the same focus I used to create permanent weapons. Yet for all of that effort, nothing changed whatsoever.

  Finally, I turned to Fortuantus and sighed. "Can you help me return—"

  My head spun again, and I slumped forward, catching myself with both hands on the carpeted floor. Sweat trickled down my forehead, my temples ached, my core was more than halfway empty, and, more irritating of all, three tiles sat in a haphazard pile before me. It looked as though they'd been created a foot or two in the air, then fell and landed on one another.

  Fortunatus sat facing me, his tail lashing, but before I could speak with him, I heard a throat clear.

  I turned to see Flynn sitting in a chair, leaning back with his chin resting on one palm and the other hand tapping a rhythm on one thigh. Stranely, his face was drawn into a frown.

  "What's wrong?" I asked as I stood. "Did something happen?"

  Flynn nodded. "Yes. I came back here to find you unresponsive. I tried waking you more than once. I was considering dangling you from the window if you didn't wake up soon."

  "How long—"

  "A half-hour, at least. I'm not sure how long you were at it before I got back. At first, I thought you were just meditating, but then you never so much as twitched."

  I glanced at the window, relaxing as I saw the angle of the sun. At most, it'd been an hour, which was more than I had expected but far from the worst possible development.

  "Yes, I suppose I owe you an explanation. But first, I have discovered a few things. First, I have an idea how to go about creating a mind palace," I announced.

  Flynn looked unsure, tapping his chin with one finger as he said in a flat tone, "Hooray."

  "A reasonable reaction in light of point number two. I have no idea how to do it."

  "What do you mean?" Flynn asked. "How is that not contradictory?"

  "The same way I understand that baking bread requires wheat, water, and an oven. I think I know how the process is done, but I don't know how to do it myself."

  Flynn chewed his lip, pausing for a time before asking, "Do you think we can figure it out?"

  "Honestly?" I asked, before shaking my head. "I have no idea."

  As silence fell on our room, any flickering sense of triumph at my minor breakthrough vanished. If we couldn't decipher the trick of a mind palace, all our lofty plans to complete the Sion ritual by ourselves might be for naught.

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