After several hours, I had what I considered a tentative plan for the future. The higher "floors" would take time, but I knew what the base would look like, from the foundation to the walls and ceilings.

  By that point, my passive mana gathering had done much to refill my core. I still needed longer to recover fully, but I had regained enough that I could have gone back to practicing crafting tiles. The ambitious, eager voice in the back of my mind whispered that I should, conjuring images of what my tower might become if I pushed a little further.

  Instead, I decided to err on the side of caution. I had already gone without sleep for one day, and pushing for a second seemed reckless even for me.

  I woke the following morning to a letter at the foot of my bed. Fortunatus stared at it, then looked to me with a flicker of concern through our bond. He didn't fully grasp the intricacies of human magic, but he understood that something appearing in our private room without disturbing either of us was a terrifying display of precision.

  It didn't take a genius to deduce who had sent the letter, and I opened it to find only a few short sentences written in perfect, flowing calligraphy.

  I read the letter twice over, then set it down with a faint scowl. Alexandria had invited me to dinner in three days, though calling it an "invitation" was being generous. She had made it clear in no uncertain terms that she expected me to arrive with a response to her offer.

  While I doubted Alexandria could do much in the way of overtly harming me if I refused, I didn't want to make an enemy of an Archmagus. She could do plenty to make my life a nightmare without harming a hair on my head.

  I bathed and dressed before setting out, stopping only just long enough to leave a note for my brother. Flynn might have been willing to accompany me, but I didn't want to bother him with my personal obligations.

  Master Julian's book had given me much to think about, but I didn't feel comfortable setting down any tiles. Not yet, at least. And I wasn't sure how long until I'd trust him again, if ever. I could get past keeping secrets, and I could grasp having his own plans and agendas, but he'd violated my own privacy in ways that...well, I suspected most would have becoem violent in my shoes.

  But that didn't change the blunt facts, which were that I would rather risk my safety with the son than the mother. I could at least fathom giving Julian problems in a contest of magic. Alexandria, not so much.

  I started for the Academy, but halfway there, stopped to examine the Invictus. It was something I had meant to do already, but never quite found the time to spare.

  The towering stone archway stood as a monument to both the power of our magic and the skill of The Carver in particular. They were the first earth mage, and some claimed the greatest crafter of them all, having mastered creating permanent constructs to a level I wasn't sure was possible.

  I had dismissed the nature of the Invictus as a consequence of that might and mastery, but now, knowing what I knew about magic, it really was quite the puzzle.

  Truly permanent works of magic were impossible by all known laws. All magic degraded in time, and constructs were no exception to this rule. A well-cast spell might last a few minutes before losing its structure. The average Adept could create a construct that lasted an hour or two without upkeep, and a Master might just reach a day or two.

  Forgers tended to consider "permanency" reached when a construct could last a full week without loss of stability. I myself could craft daggers and spears that lasted the better part of a month, and the absolute best measured their own permanency in years...but all of that fell short of the Carver's achievement.

  Somehow, the Invictus had remained stable for centuries without any loss in integrity and with no efforts to repair it whatsoever. That either suggested an unheard-of level of stability or, more likely, a magical interaction I didn't yet understand.

  But damn if I didn't want to understand it.

  I stood there for a time, tilting my head one way and the other. I walked around the Invictus, searching with both my eyes and my magical senses for anything that stood out. The sheer density of the monument struck me, and the earth mana had a feeling to it that I might call focused intent.

  Unfortunately, no great secret revealed itself. My first instinct was that somehow the Carver had bound together intent and mana to affect the Invictus' incredible stability, but that was just a guess.

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  After maybe half an hour, I set aside the curiosity and continued on my way to the Academy. I planned to return later to the Invictus to take a closer look, but I had responsibilities to handle before the day was done.

  I reached the Academy, which had returned to its typical form in the wake of the festivities. A few mages milled about the entrance, though thankfully, none of them seemed to notice me.

  It took me only a few minutes to walk through the entrance hall and reach Julian's office. I knocked twice, counted to three in my head, then opened the door and entered.

  The master stood before one of his boards, one hand tucked behind his back and the other raised with a piece of chalk clutched between his fingers. He was midway through drawing a diagram, which seemed to resemble a kind of magical...not circle necessarily, but more like a ring with runes crawling along the outer edge.

  "Good morning, Vayne," Julian said over his shoulder with a hint of his usual cheer. "I'd say make yourself comfortable, but it seems you already have. How did your reading go?"

  "Enlightening," I replied, walking closer to the wind mage. "But not enough. I don't have much confidence that I can create a mind palace on my own."

  I came to a stop beside Julian and turned towards him. "Which I suspect was the point, wasn't it?"

  Julian paused, then set down the chalk before looking at me. "It was, and it wasn't. I was hoping you'd come to me for advice, but I was also pretty sure you could figure it out on your own. Honestly, I'm shocked you didn't try."

  I couldn't help but chuckle. "Am I that predictable? No need to respond. I did a little testing exploring my mind, but—"

  "Wait," Julian interrupted. "You already learned how to enter your mental world?"

  "I did, yes," I said. "Why?"

  Julian stared at me without saying a word. Seconds passed, and I cleared my throat, earning a hard blink from the man.

  "Sorry. Just lost in my thoughts. Truthfully, I was expecting you to ask for advice on how to enter your mental world. That step takes most people several weeks, at least."

  I shrugged, deciding not to explain that Fortunatus had provided me a shortcut. "I'm faster than most. I am here for advice, though."

  "Advice," Julian repeated, his eyebrows raising.

  "You sound surprised."

  "Based on the last time we spoke, I half-expected you to never speak with me again."

  "I considered it," I replied. "But I've done things I'm not proud of myself and have been given second chances I'm not sure I deserve. So, it seems only right to extend some grace."

  Julian blinked, then smiled. "Sounds good to me."

  With that, the tension in the room snapped. The wind mage flicked one hand, pulling a chair from across the room with a flex of mana. It rolled across the floor, and he sat in it as it came within arm's reach.

  "So," Julian said, crossing his legs over one another. "Mind palaces. Where do you want to start?"

  "Foundations," I replied, reaching out and pulling a chair of my own. "I understand the theory, but I'm wondering a few things about the process. Namely, can one alter existing constructs within a mind palace if you make any mistakes?"

  "Yes, you can, but it's always more difficult than getting it right the first time."

  I nodded. "That's what I had assumed. I planned to get my construction skills perfect first, so it's more of a hypothetical anyway. Now, how feasible is it to complete a room in five months?"

  "Five months?" Julian echoed. "Are you insane?"

  "Not important. Is it possible?"

  "You said feasible, not possible, but I suppose? I've never heard of anyone doing it, though. At a minimum, you'd need massive reserves or the ability to refill your core several times a day without issue. That's not counting the weeks to months it'd take just to get creating the constructs down."

  I stared at him, then raised my left hand and started gathering mana. It took less than a minute, and when I was finished, a gleaming, emerald dagger fell into my hand.

  Julian stared at it, then looked back up to me. "Neat trick."

  I shrugged. "I never quite got the handle on Reinforcement, so I focused on other talents. My intention was to ensure I was never without a weapon, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth."

  "Then I'd say yes, five months is doable. You'd need to work on it daily, possibly even multiple times a day, but still."

  I paused, then asked, "What about if I didn't have these advantages? How feasible would it be for a mage who couldn't access their mental world or form constructs like this?"

  Julian shook his head. "Hard to say without looking at their mental world, but I'd guess far less likely. They could probably lay down most of the foundation, maybe start on the walls, but a whole room? If they managed it, it'd almost certainly have flaws."

  The wind mage smiled at that. "This is the part where I'd warn most mages against that, but knowing you, you'd rather die than screw up your magic like that."

  I snorted. "Obviously. But this isn't for me."

  Julian said nothing, and after a brief pause, I continued, "I'd like help with mind palaces, but you're right. I do think I could figure it out from here, with the help of your book. However, that doesn't mean I don't need your assistance. Just...not for me."

  "Your brother?" Julian offered.

  "Him, yes. And another. Vesper Ollais."

  Julian's eyebrows rose again, and he smiled. "I hadn't realized you and here were—"

  "It's not important what we are," I interrupted with a glare. "Just that she needs help with a mind palace as well."

  I hadn't actually proposed the idea to Vesper yet, but I would rather go to her with a trainer already figured out. Best to prepare ahead of time, in my experience.

  Julian tapped one finger on his bottom lip, seeming to turn it over.

  "I...could help, yes. I have obligations, but I should be able to set aside a few hours a day for private tutoring. Say, one for each of them?"

  "That'd be great. And how long do you think it would take to learn how to enter their mental worlds and generate stable constructs?"

  "A month," Julian replied. "Maybe two. That'd be slower than normal, but your brother and the Ollais girl are younger, weaker, and less experienced than most who've learned to make a mind palace, so they'll likely take longer."

  Two months wasn't ideal, but basically any improvements to our minds might make the difference between success and failure. I'd need to discuss it further with the two of them, but I knew for certain that Flynn would agree to it. He understood the necessity of this step more than anyone.

  Julian cleared his throat, drawing me from my thoughts. "I know we're still a bit...raw about everything, but I want to assure you that—"

  "I don't care," I cut in, shaking my head. "Take that however you wish, but I have no interest in discussing what happened. We're moving forward, and that means leaving our past in the past."

  Julian blinked, then nodded. "Alright. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

  I couldn't help but smile. "How much time can you spare?"

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