Mirabelle sat cross-legged on her dorm bed, her notes spread around her like a paper cyclone. Her study crystal pulsed faintly overhead, casting soft light over six open books, four half-filled diagrams, and a spell chart she'd already re-copied three times.

Her hand twitched as she flipped a page.

Her eyes wouldn't focus.

She groaned and leaned back against the wall, pressing her palms to her face. Her head throbbed with the weight of words that wouldn't settle, lines that refused to hold their shape. Everything was slipping sideways.

"I have a schedule," she muttered. "I planned it all."

The mana-control drills she'd set for herself. Visualization, breathing exercises, micro-casting tests. All had all gone wrong earlier. Her channeling was muddy, her lines unstable. She couldn't afford to slip. Not now. Not when she'd almost broken into the top five.

But she hadn't. She wanted to win. She needed to win. And now tomorrow's practical would set her back another step if she failed to stabilize her mana control. She'd talked to some older students and even as the teachers mixed some things up, there were some things she could predict to stay the same. After physical training, duels and combat trials, professor Kaelthorne would test their precision at manipulating mana next. She normally would have no problem, but she was just so tired. A night of sleep wouldn't be enough. And that was if she could fall asleep.

There was a knock at the doorframe.

Mirabelle looked up to see a familiar elven face. Her classmate Lyriel.

"You look like you're losing to your ink," she said.

Mirabelle didn't answer.

Lyriel glanced at the scattered notes. "Too worn out for mana drills?"

Mirabelle nodded.

The elf reached into her satchel and pulled out a small vial. Inside was a faintly shimmering blue powder. Light caught in it flickered strangely, like distant lightning.

"I thought you looked like you need some pickup. This is Lightning Dust. It gives you a push of power and focuses your concentration. Everyone uses it during exams."

Mirabelle hesitated. Then looked at the vial was in her hand.

"Are there any side effects?" she asked.

Lyriel shrugged. "Not if you're careful. The teachers hate it, though. Something about struggle building character and stuff. It's getting hard to make. You can have this one for free. It's the least I can do for a classmate."

Mirabelle stared at it. "I'm just… tired," she said. "I can't afford to fall behind."

Lyriel smiled. "Exactly."

Mirabelle said nothing. Then decisively, she uncorked the vial and let a pinch of the powder dissolve on her tongue. Cool. Sharp. It tingled down her throat.

Then clarity.

Suddenly, her thoughts aligned.

Her next breath felt… efficient. The hum of mana in the room sharpened. She reached for her pen and it moved like an extension of thought.

She turned back to the diagrams. Her notes. Her drills.

She didn't even glance at the clock as the hours slipped past.

* * *

The academy dining hall buzzed with the low, uneven hum of students who had been allowed to rest, but hadn't done it properly. A mix of yawns, half-stirred porridge, and soft groaning filled the space beneath the high, vaulted ceiling.

Weylan sat at the end of one of the long tables, quietly finishing a plate of eggs and dark rye bread. Years of shepherding had taught him to wake before the sun, and no amount of magical education could undo it.

Across from him, Faya had her head resting on her folded arms, gently nudging her untouched tea with her nose. Alina sat next to her, hair still damp from a rushed wash, glaring silently into a bowl of something oat-based. Erik looked shockingly awake and couldn't stop fidgeting with his bread knife.

Mirabelle was glowing. Not literally… but it was close.

Her eyes were bright, hair neatly tied, her movements precise. She was halfway through a second bowl of breakfast mush while flipping through a side-annotated alchemy scroll.

"You're… very awake," Weylan said cautiously.

"I made real progress on my Mana Control skill last night," she said, eyes sparkling. "Everything just clicked. It was amazing. I felt like my mana threads were actually aligning with the underlying intent fields."

Selvara, perched nearby, gave her a slow, measured stare.

"Glad to see someone's thriving," Weylan muttered, then turned to Faya. "Hey, about Sir Cloverton…"

Faya lifted her head slightly, blinking through tangled hair. The verdant hare in her lap twitched an ear but continued napping. She petted its head and scratched it lightly on the tiny sapling on his head.

"Isn't he gorgeous? Look at his twig-like horn. He's like a cute rabbit unicorn," she mumbled.

"I thought about your question, about how to get the Familiar Bond feat. You should just keep him close, even during class," Weylan said, as casually as he could. "Since you're obviously already emotionally connected, that might be enough to unlock it."

That got her attention.

"Wait… really?" Her voice was still sleepy, but her eyes were lighting up.

Weylan nodded. "There's precedent in old tales and legends. Some familiar bonds form before the feat unlocks. Being together during key lessons could help establish a mana imprint."

Alina squinted at him suspiciously. "Sounds like nonsense."

Faya, however, was fully upright now, cradling the hare like a holy artifact. "You think if I bring him to the next lecture, it might help?"

Weylan shrugged. "Can't hurt."

The hare yawned.

Mirabelle didn't even look up from her scroll. "There's historical precedent in the Annals of Familiar Dynamics. There was a case of a bard with a frog. He unlocked the bond after twelve days of uninterrupted companionship and a really dramatic duel. I do remember, however, that there's still much debate on whether that book is historically accurate or just full of fancy bard tales."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Faya looked up. "Oh… class is starting soon and I have to follow the call of nature." She held the hare up to Ulmenglanz. "Can you hold him for a moment?"

The dryad shrugged and took the small creature. "Hares are not exactly woodland creatures. In my home wood, they were considered pests. This one has some amazing plant-like camouflage, though. It almost looks like…" She fell silent, as her eyes widened. An invisible wind ruffled through her hair. Small wrinkles in her skin disappeared and signs of fatigue vanished. Ulmenglanz breathed deeply, then tilted her head slightly, as if she'd heard something…

Faya looked concerned, from her to the hare.

Weylan intervened hurriedly. "Wow. Seems Sir Cloverton really is a wellspring of nature's power."

Faya beamed with pride, then sprinted away.

The audience was unable to listen in on the short exchange going on inside the dryad's mind.

<Greetings, Princess Ulmenglanz. Sorry for being unable to protect your birthtree's sapling. I had to get… creative.>

<What did you do? This feels refreshing. Almost like… no… It is exactly like touching my birthtree.>

<I have established a resonance connection between your birthtree and the plant-parts I chimerically implanted into the verdant hare. Now listen, the others will become suspicious if we talk too long. You have to get Faya to let me sleep on the floor. In a basket or something. This is of dire importance!>

<Yesterday she stuffed you under her nightgown. It looked pretty comfortable… Oh… I see. I will tell her.>

Weylan leaned back with a small smile. Ulmenglanz hadn't reacted angrily, so all was probably well. The connection seemed to invigorate her. Speaking of which… He glanced back at Mirabelle. No signs of fatigue. Twitching with energy. Maybe some perk of being a priestess or a healing spell?

No, he wasn't envious.

Not at all…

* * *

The morning's first class should have already long started by the time professor Kaelthorne arrived at the training hall. Iron-shod boots clicking across stone, hair tied back, and her scarred features promising no leniency despite the sleepy air among the students. She chased two late students ahead of her whom she had picked up along the way. They looked thoroughly chastised.

Most of the group looked half-awake, still digesting breakfast or barely recovered from the previous day's stunbolt run. Mirabelle, however, stood unnaturally straight, her eyes bright and sharp. Alina muttered something bitter under her breath about early mornings being invented by sadists.

Then Faya arrived.

Marching proudly across the room, both hands wrapped around the sleeping form of Sir Cloverton, the green-furred hare now equipped with a tiny, hand-stitched blue cape.

"I'd like to announce," Faya said, loud enough for the entire room to hear, "that I am pursuing the Familiar Bond feat with this noble creature."

She raised the hare like a hero raising a sacred relic.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Valen Aldrich blinked. "Is that... a rabbit?"

"He's a verdant hare," Faya corrected sharply. "Rare, magical, and spiritually attuned to nature."

Ulmenglanz rolled her eyes, but otherwise did not comment.

Erik, looking vaguely impressed, leaned over to Weylan. "Is she serious?"

"Oh yes," Weylan murmured.

"That cape is ridiculous."

"She made it herself", he whispered back dryly.

"Of course she did. Poor thing."

Weylan grinned faintly.

The hare blinked slowly, unimpressed with its role in this dramatic unveiling.

Kaelthorne, to her credit, didn't laugh. She only raised one scarred brow and said, "Does it already respond to commands?"

"Not yet," Faya said cheerfully. "But he's emotionally bonded. And I've named him."

"I see." Kaelthorne folded her arms. "Well. If he disrupts class, he'll be banned and you'll lose points."

"He won't!" Faya promised, hugging the hare protectively.

Kaelthorne rolled her eyes, turned and continued her lesson, muttering, "By all the stars, I've seen trained battlemages with less confidence."

Sir Cloverton sneezed once and curled deeper into Faya's arms, oblivious to the attention.

* * *

Deep beneath the city of Mulnirsheim, Malvorik's heart crystal glowed with focused, pulsing intent. Runes shimmered across the mirrored walls of his chamber. Not wild with multi-tasking this time, but deliberate, layered with dense arcane structure.

<Alright, let's see if we can't fix this.>

His consciousness stretched upward, threading delicately through the chimera-linked resonance that connected him to Sir Cloverton, the verdant hare now held hostage in Faya's loving arms.

The connection was stable, if awkward. Sensory input flowed freely… When the hare's eyes were open. Which they often weren't.

That would not do.

The hare vision was covering almost all directions, and was very attracted to movement. And the color… Blue and green seemed fine, but the poor thing almost didn't see any red. The color palette was distracting.

Malvorik's focus narrowed. His mental grasp slipped carefully between layers of the bond, adjusting the resonance pattern. Slowly, methodically, he embedded a refracted sight tether into the existing chimera link.

The hare's body was still the anchor. But now, he could manipulate the angle and see even if the hare's eyes were shut.

Malvorik tested it.

He rotated the view. He looked up, down, to the side. As if turning the hare's awareness independently. It wasn't a true scrying eye he could move around like his dungeon senses, but it would serve. He corrected the color scheme. Perfect.

Then came the sound.

The hare's ears, even at rest, were phenomenal. Subtle vibrations. Footsteps. Scribbling quills. The rhythmic creak of Kaelthorne's boots as she paced the lecture hall.

Then the sense of smell.

Malvorik winced slightly as Faya's perfume hit like a bouquet to the brainstem. He filtered that out quickly.

<Normal vision, superior hearing and smell.> He gave a satisfied pulse of mana. <This will do nicely.>

He settled deeper into the link.

For now, Malvorik the dungeon was seated, content and unseen, in a lap full of fluff, quietly absorbing the workings of Wildeguard one heartbeat at a time. When the professor led the class to another workroom, he sighed inwardly. He recognized the training arrangements and knew what was coming. Poor Weylan.

* * *

The training hall had been rearranged for the day's lesson. Each student stood at an individual casting station. Smooth stone slabs marked with faintly glowing rings and a single crystal focus point.

Professor Kaelthorne stood at the front, as ever, arms crossed, jaw set.

"Today's focus," she said, "is not strength. It is not speed. It is control."

She laid a hand on the nearest stone slab and three green glowing rings projected in the air before her, perfectly aligned.

"This is the Calibration Pattern. You need to take control of the mana inside the training artifact like when using an alchemical cauldron. Move it into the correct form and the rings align. If your control is perfect, they shift from blue to green."

The illusionary rings vanished.

"Your task is to control the mana flow precisely. No spikes. No wobbling. If the rings flash red, you're doing it wrong. If they scatter entirely, start again."

There was a faint groan from somewhere in the back.

Kaelthorne's eyes flicked toward Valen Aldrich. "You may begin, Mister Aldrich. Since you've clearly been waiting to show off."

Valen stepped forward with a self-assured smirk and touched the artifact.

Three rings appeared faintly glowing blue, and slowly aligned until they pulsed emerald green.

A few students clapped. Most groaned.

"Of course he can do it," Mirabelle muttered.

Then came the rest.

Faya's rings spun like a carnival ride before crashing into each other and vanishing in a puff of glittery sparks. She clapped anyway. "That was fun!"

Erik managed a wobbly alignment before the outer ring flared red and vanished.

Alina's control was surprisingly good. Two rings locked in place, but the third refused to settle.

Weylan stepped up to his stone, trying to remember everything he'd practiced with Malvorik. The few hours he'd been able to fit into his tight schedule.

Breathe. Focus. Control the flow. No spikes.

He started.

The rings appeared. One, two, three… and immediately flared in three different directions, scattering like startled birds.

Weylan sighed and tried again.

The second cast went worse. One ring collapsed before it even stabilized. Another shot straight up into the ceiling and vanished with a faint plink.

Somewhere behind him, someone stifled a laugh.

"Wonderful," he muttered.

Then he saw the notice.

Skill increased: Mana Control (Layman IX)

A breath later,

Skill increased: Mana Control (Layman X)

Weylan blinked. Wait... what?

He hadn't succeeded. Not even close. But somehow, his complete disaster of a casting had taught him something. Twice.

He tried again. And again.

When he looked up, the others had already left and only the professor was there. She grinned at him. "Well? How far did you get?"

"Apprentice I! This device is great. There's immediate feedback if I do it wrong and I can much better concentrate with the visual aid of the rings."

"So, you broke through." She gave him a wicked grin. "And reached the level every other class starts at. Aldrich is nearing Journeyman level and will reach it within days. I have given your room key permission to open this classroom. You can use it whenever you have time and it's empty. Try to fit a few hours of training in every week."

"Thank you. I'll do that whenever I can."

She turned to the raven perched on the table beside Weylan. "You may have your first private lesson tonight. Unless, of course, you have more pressing matters to attend to."

Selvara rose to her full height and offered a graceful bow. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Meet me in my study after sundown," the professor said, then turned to Weylan with a faint smile. "Now better run. Professor Voynich doesn't take kindly to tardiness. You'll have the chance to show off those new alchemy skill levels."

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