The café on Milden Way wasn't particularly exceptional. The tea was lukewarm more often than not, the seating uneven, and the server, bless her heart, always managed to forget at least one item. But Lira Thorne came for the corner window.
It was quiet, private, and overlooked one of the busiest intersections in Orlar.
From this single table, Lira had observed over two hundred interactions in the last week alone. Market stalls, military patrols, street performers, scholars in hurried debate, and everyday folk meandering through their lives, unknowingly revealing something deeper than talent or training.
Affinity.
She had stopped counting how many times two people attempted the same act with Pulx and achieved wildly different results.
She sipped her slightly bitter chamomile and watched a young man juggle three water balloons with theatrical confidence. The motion was smooth, practiced. There was Pulx in it, faint but undeniable. The way the balloons seemed to be pushed one way or another mid air told her enough.
The core power pulx, Lira thought, the water pulx isn't all that difficult to control if the movements are simple. So it's not all that impressive, but…
Lira opened her small leather-bound journal and wrote:
Pulx expression varies far more between individuals than previously assumed. Though many of my colleagues believe controlling one large source is easier than controlling multiple small ones, perhaps it's not that simple. Training explains competence, but not inclination. Something precedes technique.
She glanced at the clock on the wall and stiffened.
"Oh," she muttered. "I'm going to be late."
She stood, and headed for the door. "Put the chamomile on my tab, okay John?"
The burly man behind the counter waved her off.
Outside, the air was cool and loud with foot traffic. Lira turned toward the university when a whisper stopped her.
"Fire, be mine, bring yourself from the depths of both destruction and life…"
She paused.
An urchin boy stood in the narrow mouth of an alley, clutching a scrap of paper. His hands trembled. The chant wavered then a small snap sounded from the boy.
That's not wrong, Lira realized, but the wording's strange.
She approached before she could talk herself out of it and gently plucked the paper from his fingers. At least he knows to use a proper fuel source.
"Fire," she said, her voice calm, "be mine. Bring yourself from the laws of destruction and life."
A flame bloomed along the paper's edge, small and obedient.
She handed it back. "You're lucky," she added. "If you miss the middle, fire doesn't argue. It answers."
The boy nodded, wide-eyed, and ran.
Lira immediately wrote:
Subject attempted fire pulx with proper material support but the chant structure was close to correct. Could it be that failure did not stem from ignorance, but incompatibility? Multiple chants are used for a similar effect. Does that mean they are personal?
She hesitated, pen hovering.
Question: is fuel the true limitation, or merely the most common crutch?
Her colleagues would laugh at the thought. And yet.
Science had already confirmed the presence of flammable gases in the air, however minute. Methane. Hydrogen. Traces, but present.
If Pulx responds to alignment rather than effort, extraction may be possible. Combination of motion-based Pulx and fire response could isolate ambient fuel.
She paused.
Unverified/Dangerous.
As she wrote one name came to mind, unbidden.
The Personification of Talent demonstrated fire without observable fuel. No confirmed explanation exists. Hypothesis seems to align. Though a review of his note book is advisable, I can't say I will be successful in borrowing it.
She collided with someone hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Papers scattered. She dropped to her knees, scrambling.
"Lira?" a voice said.
She looked up. "Professor Caid?"
"I was looking for you," he said. "Class started over an hour ago. Were you at that café again?" She paused, then nodded. "I told you that clock was off. Why don't you use the library anyway? It has resources and plenty of snacks."
She shrugged. The library was silent, but the café had people. And people revealed pulx in ways books never could.
"Well," Caid said, "get to class. And Lira… have you made progress on the Crafter theory? The Plurimus won't stay forever."
She nodded and hurried off.
The rest of her day passed in fragments.
She combed archives, reviewed marginalia, and eventually found herself rereading the personal account of the Crafter known as Lock.
His description was nothing like a scholar. Large, with broad shoulders and seemingly rough around the edges.
Her eyes lingered on his frame longer than necessary and cleared her throat to focus on the text.
"Pulx are not flares or bursts," Lock had written. "They are lines. Threads. They resist some hands and cling to others. Ask yourself why chants exist at all. Chantless prove that they are not necessary. they're not to command Pulx, but to convince it."
"Similar to my theory" Lira whispered.
She flipped pages.
A Crafter from decades past described entering a "mind state" where Pulx manifested as a series of intersecting structures. Each line was distinct, yet intrinsically related, colored by a pattern of six repeating hues.
Patterns, not proclamations.
She wrote:
"Perhaps 'core pulx' are not fundamental truths, but categories born from repeated observation. If affinities cluster, scholars label."
Lira smacked into a pillar, falling back and dropping her notes.
"Ow," she said, rubbing her reddened nose.
As she gathered her notes, one sentence stood out.
"Time seems to pass differently in what they call "the mind." Apparently, Plurimus are capable of spending what seems to them as hours in "the mind" while a mere instant passes in reality. Truly fascinating."
Lira put the note sheet in her journal, reminding herself to get back to the subject later.
"Plurimus are rare," she grumbled, "and I know the school went to great lengths to get Lock to come here. But couldn't he have come after my project was finished?"
Lira made her way to the library. The cafeteria would likely be closed, but the snack stands would be open until midnight. When she made it to the door she was confronted by a colleague. Lira tilted her head, trying to remember his name.
"Hey Lira!" the man said with an uneven tone. "I was thinking, do you have anything on the core breaker pulx?"
Lira's eyes lit up. And she opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself.
"The core breaker pulx is not currently one of my projects. So I can't give you any more than the teachers.
"Common, I know you have more than that." He responded. "I have a question regarding the separation pulx and was hoping we could discuss it say… over tea. I have notes."
"No thanks," she shot back.
The man paused, seeming thrown off.
"I believe scholars should gather their own research," Lira argued. "Simply copying other researchers' findings doesn't make you a scholar."
The man frowned. "But, there's no point in discovering information that's already been discovered. If you want I can—"
Lira put a hand up, quieting him. "While there is logic in your argument, personal discovery can not only produce different results, but it can also give someone the fundamental understanding that can lead their thought processes in a separate direction than those who just memorize information."
"I suppose…" the man said, his voice trailing with a touch of resignation.
Ahhh, Lira thought, I see. She looked him up and down, and began circling him, inspecting his frame, earning a raised eyebrow from the other boys with him.
He wasn't exactly built. Though as a scholar, Lira didn't expect anything different.
"Also," she added lightly, "you're not really my type."
His mouth parted, clearly taken aback. She walked around him and made her way into the library, only to find the Plurimas walking down an aisle.
She immediately brought out her journal, and waited a moment. She then came at him right when he turned the corner. He stopped himself suddenly, trying not to bump into her. But they collided nonetheless.
"Waoh," He said, grabbing her arm to stop her from falling backwards. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Hm, sorry," she said, letting him help her up.
Despite his gentle grip, she felt a power behind it. My, she thought.
"I was just wondering if I could interview you again before you leave?" Lira asked.
"Uh, sorry, but I actually came here to escape my guard," Lock said. "That and the other scholars."
She raised an eyebrow, "you came to a library to escape scholars?"
The man paused, then grinned, "suppose you have a point. Nevertheless I'd like to avoid any more interviews."
"Oh, well sorry for bothering you." Lira said, bowing for a little too long, standing straight with an obvious disappointment on her face, and turned to leave.
After a few moments, "hold on," Lock said.
Hook, line, and sinker, Lira thought with a smile. She turned with "surprise" and asked, "yes?"
"I suppose a few questions wouldn't hurt," Lock said.
Lira beamed, then gestured to have him follow her. They sat down at a corner table, where Lira brought them tea and a few muffins. Lock immediately grabbed a muffin, which looked miniature in his colossal hands, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
Lira wrote something down when he did so.
"What chu writing?" Lock asked, his mouth half-full.
"Does your size have anything to do with you being a Plurimas?" Lira asked.
She had no intention of asking about the crafter pulx, that wasn't one of her projects. She often tried to preoccupy herself with two points of interest. For now, that is the core power pulx as well as affinities.
Lock grimaced slightly when she called him a Plurimas, "did I say something wrong?" Lira asked.
"Technically no," Lock said, swallowing his treat. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather you call me a crafter. Plurimas seems too technical a term. Crafter makes more sense for me."
Lira wrote something down.
"Now, back to my earlier question if you don't mind?" Lira asked.
"Oh, yes," Lock said, reaching for another muffin. "Yes, my size does have an effect on my affinity, it does for everyone."
"Realy?" Lira confirmed. "So then, based on that, what affinities do I appear to have?"
Lock looked at her up and down. She was fairly slime and was shorter than average. She considered her curves about average, though the attention they drew suggested otherwise.
"You have an affinity for the Core power pulx, specifically water," Lock said. "Though almost everyone does, you seem to have a strong affinity for the core perceive pulx. Which is great considering your profession. You don't have anything on the core pure, breaker, crafter, or time pulx. Though I'm getting the sense you could use the space pulx with a few years of training."
Lira's eyes widened, "you can tell all that just from my frame?"
"Sumwhat, but not really, I can see your colors. Though that's mostly due to my condition," Lock said. "There are plenty of guys with my build that can't use the crafter pulx to save their life. One's frame does have something to do with it. But someone's soul comes into play as well."
"Their soul?" Lira asked, "and what do you mean by colors? Oh, and can you give me a brief breakdown of how different frames can affect affinity outcome?!"
Lock took a swig of his tea—no delicate sipping, just a single, decisive gulp.
"Well, someone with a small frame tends to be more connected with destructive powers." Lock said. "Things like the breaker pulx and certain parts of the pure and power pulx. Larger people tend to have less destructive powers. Crafting for example, creates rather than destroys.
Though, again, someone's frame has only a piece of what decides someone's affinities. It depends on personality, how easy one can connect with others. How easy or difficult it is for someone to control their emotions. Even trauma can have a play. So it really is just troubleshooting."
"Are you saying people can be born with affinities then lose them afterwards?" Lira asked.
"No," Lock clarified, "I believe I said it before our meeting, but different pulx have different personalities, wills, and beliefs. If one accepts you, it stays with you. You can get the attention of other types of pulx you couldn't earlier in your life. But once you bond with a pulx, that's that. Though I don't know the process of getting the attention of each one.
Being a crafter and entering the mind is a unique experience. I can understand what a pulx is, after so many interactions I've had with their purest form. That being the lines of power. But I can't get to know them personally until I've bonded one.
Like I said before, it's hard to pinpoint exactly how a pulx chooses its master, but I do not think a pulx is simple energy that acts out erratically. Aside from the pure pulx. The only person to have ever mastered that pulx was the hero king Halcome.
Then again, historians could have exaggerated the fact that he mastered it. Even when I draw a precise glyph with the pure pulx, and I or anyone else uses the item, it can still reach out to chaos.
Though sometimes I feel that a crafter isn't a pulxer but someone that simply forces pulx to obey rather than gaining their trust. Not only that, but I feel a kinship toward my creations, like each line is a piece of my soul."
Lock looked at her, seeming to come out of a daze. So he is a scholar, Lira thought. She wrote down more of what he said.
"This has been most informative," Lira said, "thank you."
Lock smiled, then opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Lira looked up with a raised eyebrow.
"You have very beautiful eyes," he said, his voice softer than before.
Lira blinked, surprised. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching her eyes and giving their light amber color a crystalline hue.
Lock smiled, "I believe that even eye color can give you an affinity."
"How so?"
"Well, did you know that everyone who has amber eyes—that I've seen—has had an affinity to the perceive pulx? I think the core pulx likes beautiful eyes." Lock shook his head. "Sorry, is there anything else you need?"
Lira paused for a moment, digesting the information. "Well, since you asked. Can you show me a pulxed item? Preferably with a pure pulx."
"Um, I'm not supposed to just give out pulxed items whenever I'm asked." Lock said hesitantly.
"I don't plan on selling it," Lira said hurriedly. "As you guessed before, I can't use any subsections of the core pure pulx, and it is one of my next projects. So I would like to experiment with it more."
"I didn't think you would sell it," Lock responded, "you don't seem like the type. But… maybe."
"Maybe?" Lira asked.
Lock grabbed his empty tea cup, then closed his eyes. Lira made sure to document his every action. A heartbeat later however, he opened his eyes. It was less like he closed them, and more like a long blink. Lock set the cup in front of Lira, then sat back.
"What did you do?" Lira asked.
"Swirl the cup," Lock said.
Lira grabbed the empty cup, then swirled it around. Water began slowly leaking into the cup from the bottom. Lira's eyes widened and she gasped as the previously empty cup, filled completely up with water. She squealed in excitement, then stood up and gave Lock a hug.
"Woah!" Lock said, befuddlement in his tone.
"Thank you!" Lira called out.
She stood up with excitement, then grabbed her journal and the now pulxed cup, then ran out the library to get to her quarters. Leaving Lock with a smile on his face.
She made her way to her dorms, closed her door, lit every candle in her study, and began thinking of possibilities as to how her pulxed cup could create water.
"The most obvious answer is the water pulx from the core power pulx," Lira said to herself. "But the pulx can't create water out of nowhere, it's more about controlling water rather than creating it. That's how all the subsections of the core power pulx work."
She could have asked Lock how he did it. But she stood by what she told her colleague. A scholar should gather information from their own research. She opened her journal to a summary of each pulx, looking for the complement pulx that created the water.
She spent several hours on this before she noticed something in the corner of her eye. A book on her desk that read: Destruction-neutralizing pulx.
Yet another project, she chuckled, half delirious. Then looking out to see the sun had set. She looked from the cup, to the book.
"I'll sleep tomorrow," she told the cup. "Tonight, I will answer you."