RISE OF THE SWARM

The cacophony of the Iron Yard was a stark contrast too the silence that had preceded it. Students now clashed with practise weapons, shouted incantations, and filled the air with the sizzle and pop of minor spells The drama of the duel was over relegated to gossip and whispered speculation. Liam remained on the bench the gritty feeling of the stone seeping through his robes his mind replaying the last few minutes on a frantic dizzying loop. The image of Alistair's hate-filled glare was burned onto the back of his eyelids.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the approach until a shadow fell over him He looked up startled and his breath hitched.

Fenrir stood there his expression unreadable. The girl with water magic had done a decent job; the worst of the burns on his arm were now pink healing flesh though the tunic was still scorched and torn Up close Liam could see the subtle sharp angles of his face the intelligence in those golden lupine eyes. He moved with a quiet grace that was unnerving.

"You alright" Fenrir's voice was a low rumble devoid of the aggressive growl he'd used with Alistair but still carrying a raw earthy texture.

Liam nodded perhaps a bit too quickly. "Yeah. Fine. Thanks. For, you know…" He gestured vaguely toward the sparring circle.

Fenrir's ears gave a slight twitch. A faint almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "He was being a prick. It was overdue." He paused his gaze intensifying becoming more analytical. "That was some interesting magic he was using. That last shot… the concentrated one. It was meant to connect."

Liam's blood ran cold. He kept his face carefully neutral. "I guess you were just faster."

"I was," Fenrir agreed his tone casual but his eyes never left Liam's. "But that's not what I meant. Right before it hit it… stuttered. Flickered. Like it hit a patch of dead air. Felt… strange. Cold. You wouldn't know anything about that would you"

The question hung in the air between them loaded and dangerous. Liam's heart hammered against his ribs. He could lie or he could trust The memory of Alistair's threat made the decision for him. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

He forced a confused frown. "I dont know what your talking about. I was just sitting here. Maybe his control isnt as good as he thinks it is." He tried to sound dismissive but the words came out stilted.

Fenrir watched him for a long silent moment. The noise of the training yard seemed to fade away. Liam felt like a specimen under a microscope every twitch every rapid heartbeat being cataloged by this perceptive Beastkin. Finaly Fenrir gave another slight almost imperceptible nod. It wasn't an acceptance of the lie but an acknowledgment that the conversation was over.

"Maybe," was all Fenrir said. His tone was neutral giving nothing away. "See you around Liam."

He turned and melted back into the crowd of students his tail giving a single thoughtful flick before he was gone. Liam was left sitting there his palms sweating. He had a distinct feeling that Fenrir knew far more than he was letting on.

The rest of the combat class passed in a blur. Liam and Leo were left to there own devices ostensibly to "observe advanced techniques" which mostly involved Leo sketching more runic diagrams and Liam trying to calm his racing thoughts When the bell finally chimed signaling the end of the period Liam practically jumped off the bench.

"You coming" Leo asked shoving his sketchbook into his bag. "Theoretical Arcana is next. In the west lecture hall."

"Yeah," Liam said his voice still a bit unsteady. "Lead the way."

They joined the river of students flowing through the grand hallways of the academy. The west lecture hall was a vast amphitheater-style room with tiers of polished wooden desks descending toward a large clear crystal slate at the front The air smelled of old parchment lemon polish and the faint ever-present ozone of magic. Students filed in there chatter a low hum. Liam and Leo found seats near the back a preferred spot for those who wished to remain unnoticed.

The groans started almost immediately when Magister Theron entered. He was an older man with a magnificent well-groomed white beard and robes that were slightly too formal for the setting He carried an air of weary patience as if he had explained these concepts a thousand times to a thousand ungrateful students.

"Settle settle," Theron said his voice amplified by a subtle air-current spell to reach the back of the hall. He placed a stack of ancient-looking tomes on the lectern. "I can sense your overwhelming enthusiasm. Contain it please. Today we will once again revisit the foundational principles of thaumaturgical advancement. I am aware that for many of you this is a tiresome repetition However a firm grasp of theory is the bedrock upon which practical power is built. You cannot hope to build a tower without first understanding the nature of your foundation and your materials."

A collective theatrical sigh echoed through the hall. A boy in front of Liam slumped dramatically in his seat Everyone knew this It was the first thing any magical child was taught.

Theron ignored them. He turned to the crystal slate and waved his hand A complex glowing diagram appeared depicting a stylized human form with a brilliant sphere of light at its center—the core.

"The Path of Ascension," Theron began his voice taking on a lecturing rhythm. "The nine great Stages of power that separate the Mortal from the Divine From the spark of potential to the mantle of godhood itself Each Stage represents a quantum leap in the density purity and control of one's magical energy Each must be solidified before the next can be attempted lest one's foundation crack and their power unravel."

He pointed to the bottom of the diagram. "We begin at the Mortal Stage This is the state of all unawakened humanity. A core exists but it is dormant unreachable." He moved his finger up. "Then comes the Awakened Stage The core is ignited capable of drawing in ambient mana and performing basic manipulations This is where most of you currently reside."

Liam listened a knot tightening in his stomach This was the map everyone else was following.

"The true journey of cultivation begins with the third Stage the Initiate," Theron continued. "Here one's affinity becomes clear and the core begins its true work of refinement This is followed by the Adept Stage where significant personal power is acheived and the Ascendant Stage a level of mastery that few ever attain allowing for the weaving of great and complex magics."

He moved his hand higher to a section of the diagram that seemed to shine more brightly. "Beyond the realm of most practitioners lie the transcendent Stages The Transcendent—a being who begins to surpass mortal limits The Mythic—one whose power enters the realm of legend The Celestial—a level of harmony with the fundamental forces of the universe." He said the last words with a pointed look around the room and Liam saw several students including a few who carried themselves with innate arrogance sit up a little straighter.

"And at the pinnacle of mortal reach," Theron said his voice dropping to a more reverent tone "the Sovereign Stage Beings of such immense power they shape the world by their mere presence And finally the theoretical Godhood Stage The ultimate ambition of fools and the destiny of perhaps one in a million generations."

He then tapped the diagram again and it zoomed in on the "Initiate" stage dividing it into three segments. "Now the substages Each major Stage from Awakened to Sovereign is divided into three substages Early Middle and Peak One must progress through each substage fully consolidating their power before breaching the next major Stage An Adept-Middle is a far cry from an Adept-Peak who is but a step away from becoming an Ascendant-Early."

A hand went up It was Elara the girl from combat class with the floating daggers. "Magister Theron we know the 'what We've known since we were children The 'how' is what's relevant How do we actually advance."

Theron gave a patient sigh. "The 'how' is simple in theory and arduous in practice You advance by doing By pushing your core to its limits allowing it to strain and absorb more mana than it is comfortable with and then allowing it to rest and solidify much like a muscle You cycle mana through your core purifying it making it yours The specific techniques—meditations spell-casting channeling exercises—are what we explore in your practical classes But the underlying principle is universal use it strain it grow it A larger denser more refined core holds more power and allows for greater feats of magic It is a lifelong process of cultivation and refinement."

The lesson continued but Liam tuned it out The words echoed in his head each one a hammer blow to his fragile hope.

Use it strain it grow it.

Cycle mana through your core.

Purify it.

How was he supposed to do any of that His core didn't hold mana It consumed it It turned it into… nothing Into silence How did one "strain" a void How did one "refine" a negation The entire universal principle of magical growth was predicated on the accumulation and processing of energy His existence was the antithesis of that.

He wasn't on the Path of Ascension He was in a dead-end alley beside it Everyone else was building their tower brick by magical brick He was just… there A hole in the ground where a foundation should be The Empress's seal wasn't a training tool it was a lid on a vacuum How could he possibly be expected to grow from Awakened to Initiate let alone beyond.

The bell chimed pulling him from his spiraling thoughts Students around him slammed books shut and surged toward the exits the dense theoretical lecture already forgotten in there rush to lunch or there next practical class Leo was chattering next to him about the efficiency of different mana-cycling patterns but Liam wasn't listening.

He gathered his things mechanically his mind reeling He had two paths both seemingly impossible The conventional path of every other mage in the world a path his very nature barred him from And the cryptic terrifying path offered by the silver-haired woman—to "become the ocean" to "listen to the silence It felt less like a path and more like stepping off a cliff and hoping the air would hold you.