The students leaned forward as Mr. FluGer explained mana purification. Emma's eyes wandered to Alan. His face turned toward the window, sunlight catching his lashes as he focused on the veins of a leaf. Dust floated above the desks, and the smell of chalk and damp wood filled the room.
Mr. FluGer paced. His voice carried a steady rhythm. "Now that you can map your own mana flow and sense the mana in the air, the next step is to absorb it into your body. This begins with purification."
The students straightened their backs.
"Draw out your own mana as you practiced with the meditation techniques. Imagine it forming around you—a bubble encasing your body. This bubble will act as a filter. Once you've mastered this step, you'll feel the mana in the air pulling toward your sphere."
Alan finally tore his gaze from the window, catching the faint spark of curiosity in Emma's eyes as she listened intently.
"Allow the external mana to flow into your sphere," Mr. FluGer continued. "It will initially feel foreign, but let it blend with your own until it feels familiar. The goal is for the mana to become indistinguishable from what already exists in your pool. When this happens, slowly guide it back into your body."
The room grew silent. "I must warn you—your mana pool has a limit. Once you feel the sensation of fullness, stop. If you try to absorb more than your pool can hold..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the classroom. "You'll explode."
The words lingered. A few students shifted uncomfortably; others gulped audibly. Mr. FluGer gave them no room to process their unease.
"Spread out," he commanded. "Begin practicing."
Emma closed her eyes. Her breathing synced with the chant in her mind. Be one with the mana. Be one... A pinprick of light appeared in the darkness behind her lids. Then another. The lights pulled together, forming a glowing thread. More threads branched out, twisting and weaving into spiraling patterns. A cocoon of light began to form around her.
The cocoon's surface bristled with countless threads straining outward like skeletal fingers, their ceaseless undulations mimicking the desperate gestures of a drowning man. Against her better judgment, Emma flexed a muscle—the threads snapped tight, then surged forward. They pierced through her desk, passing through books and wood, clamping onto Dyran's flickering mana sphere.
Dyran choked. Invisible tendrils coiled around him, tightening like ropes. His veins pulsed under the strain. His nails clawed the desk, his body seizing. He tried to scream, but only a raw, guttural sound escaped. His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, locking him in silence.
Mr. FluGer's boots hit the floor in heavy steps as he lunged between desks. "Emma!" The shout crackled the air, popping like overheated glass bulbs. Unseen pressure surged through Emma's veins as her threads took on a menacing presence—a nest of starved lampreys converging on Dyran's shuddering form.
Emma's hands trembled. A tear slid down her cheek. The tension snapped with a violent jerk of her elbow. Dyran flew backward. His heels scraped against the floor before his body slammed into the wall. Dust and plaster rained down, and he crumpled into a twitching heap. Shards of wood from his broken desk lay scattered around him.
The classroom's silence shattered as Dyran's impact sent a tremor through the floor, jolting the students. Thirteen pairs of eyes widened, blood vessels bursting in shock. Alan's usual slouch straightened into a rigid stance—his left eye flickering with an unusual color as the tendons in his hands stood out against his pale skin.
Alan tasted a familiar surge in his clenched teeth—a bitter taste. But Mr. FluGer's deep, growling incantation reshaped reality a half-breath faster. Moisture from the air condensed into blades over his palm. With a swipe, the water jets sliced through Emma's threads. They unraveled instantly, fading into nothing.
Dyran stopped convulsing. Each breath he took rattled, flecks of blood staining his lips. Mr. FluGer leaned over him. His hands moved, tracing symbols that popped like bubbles.
Thirteen strands of chewed lips drifted downward from petrified classmates. Emma's threads retreated. They slithered back into her sleeves like vines wilting under the sun, melting into her skin. Her trembling fingers curled into her palms, tiny cracks visible along her nail beds.
"W-what was that?" Milla shouted as she jumped to Emma's side.
Mr. FluGer's cloak collected falling mist from the spell as he turned. "That…" He paused, clearing his throat. "That was Hexenprojektion—a curse."
"It's...an old and dangerous procedure," he explained. "A dying witch transfers her power into a fetus. If the timing is off by even a few heartbeats…" His voice trailed off. He didn't finish. Instead, the chalk in his hand snapped, splitting the quiet with a soft crack.
His gaze landed on Emma. "This is not in our curriculum for a reason. Survivors of this process tend to have...unpredictable abilities. As you've just demonstrated."
The classroom air buzzed faintly with residual magic. Students shifted uncomfortably. Milla grabbed Emma's hand, her nails digging in lightly to calm her tremor. Dyran didn't move but blinked slowly, shedding tiny droplets—residuals of Mr. FluGer's jets or his own tears.
"I didn't mean to… The threads just…" Emma's words came out cracked. Her voice shook, warped with guilt and panic.
FluGer forced a smile. "All part of learning," he said lightly. But his stiff shoulders betrayed him. The chalk in his fingers crumbled as he dismissed the class.
Emma staggered into the corridor. Milla caught up, throwing her arms around her in a firm embrace. "We'll figure this out," she whispered into Emma's hair. Emma nodded but didn't reply.
The classroom door swung shut behind them. Alan lingered, watching them leave. We'll figure it out? Is that too naive? Emma's magic is unpredictable. He'd been with her since the day he rescued her from that carcass in the wood. He'd seen her magic spiral out of control countless times. Yet, he remained uncertain of her true capability—or if there was any limit at all.