Stone corridors absorbed sound unevenly.
Footsteps existed for a moment, then vanished. Voices carried just far enough to be overheard unintentionally, never far enough to be confronted. The academy was designed that way—interaction without intimacy, proximity without comfort.
The mage walked alone.
Certainly not because he lacked acquaintances, walking alone drew less attention. Groups invited comparison and Comparison invited correction.
He turned a corner and slowed as the corridor widened into a vaulted junction where multiple passages converged. Light filtered down from a narrow opening far above, illuminating suspended dust and the faint shimmer of residual constructs embedded in the stonework.
Old magic. Inactive, but not inert.
"Your ordering was clean."
The voice came from behind him.
The mage stopped, then turned.
The speaker stood a few paces away, posture relaxed, hands folded loosely at his back. Taller than average. Dark hair bound simply, with no ornamentation. His uniform bore the same cut as Klaen's, but the fabric was newer—less worn at the cuffs.
Senior, but not by much.
"I was watching during Halvren's demonstration," the student continued. "You didn't attempt to reconcile the grammars."
The mage met his gaze in a neutral manner .
"There was no advantage," the mage said.
The other student smiled faintly. acknowledging his reasoning.
"Most people try anyway."
"They mistake tension for insight."
The smile faded. That answer had been weighed.
A pause followed.
The student inclined his head slightly. "I'm Irsen."
"Klaen."
The name settled between them without ceremony.
Irsen glanced toward the ceiling aperture. Snow was beginning to fall again—thin at first, barely perceptible. "You're from the northern intake."
"Yes."
"Figures." Irsen shifted his weight. "Your symbol retention during collapse analysis was above baseline. You tracked degradation instead of surface failure."
"I was looking at incompatibility," Klaen replied. "Instead of decay ."
"Same result," Irsen said. "Different approach."
"You've felt Ars before," Irsen said with certainty.
"Indeed"
"Recently?"
"This morning."
That earned a brief glance—sharp, appraising.
Irsen exhaled through his nose. "Careful. Halvren tolerates experimentation. The wardens do not."
"I know."
"Do you?" Irsen asked. "Or do you assume tolerance scales with competence?"
Klaen did not answer immediately.
Assumptions were dangerous. That was the point.
"I monitor thresholds," he said finally. "I don't exceed them."
"For now," Irsen replied.
.....I should be wary of him , in my experience noone approach you without a reason!!....
From a nearby corridor came the sound of stone shifting—training chambers opening, internal partitions reconfiguring themselves in response to scheduled use. The academy rearranged itself constantly. Static layouts encouraged complacency.
Irsen stepped aside, clearing the path.
"Advanced structuring tomorrow," he said. "Observation only. If you're assigned to my section, don't intervene."
"I wouldn't."
"Good."
They parted without farewell.
Klaen continued on, descending deeper into the academy's interior. The air grew colder as he went , due to thicker stone and denser wards.
He passed alcoves containing inactive constructs sealed behind crystal panels. Failed attempts. Archived structures. Some were distorted and some were elegant, but all shared a common feature , they were incomplete.
At the end of the corridor, he entered his assigned study chamber. Sparse. Functional. A single wood desk, a recessed alcove for rest, and a focusing dais etched with containment lines worn smooth by use.
He closed the door.
Silence settled.
Klaen seated himself and began reviewing the morning's lesson—not Halvren's words, but the failures displayed. He reconstructed them mentally, stripping each attempt down to its assumptions.
...from what I learned, I shouldn't assume that two pathways share the same grammar...my intent should be clearer...
Outside, the snow intensified.
....the academy didn't respond to the blizzard , that's usual...
Caladae did not adapt to those who entered it. It filtered them.
Klaen closed his eyes and began assembling a symbol—only to hold it . Its structure stabilized quickly. He adjusted it once, then released it before strain accumulated.
....enough!!...
Tomorrow would demand more.
And Caladan, as always, would decide who was worth accommodating.