He let the form drift for a while, watching it spin lazily in the dark. The movement reminded him of a feather caught in an endless breeze, except there was no air here. No force at all, really. The thing only moved when he willed it to, and even then, it felt like trying to guide a boat by throwing pebbles at it.
The stars beyond remained fixed and impossibly distant. They gave no warmth, no guidance. Just silent points of light that might as well have been painted on glass. The longer he stared at them, the more the space around him seemed to press inward, not with weight but with an awareness of how alone he truly was here.
Kez tried again, keeping his focus broad. He pictured the vessel bracing itself, chest forward, head level, limbs aligned. The response was sluggish, but this time the figure did not immediately collapse into another slow spin. It steadied, hovering in place.
"Alright… better," he murmured.
He imagined a step forward, and the vessel obeyed, though the movement was nothing like walking. It was more of a gradual glide, the legs adjusting slightly as if only for show. The forward drift was smoother than before, and he found he could halt it with another pulse of intent.
He tested it again. Forward. Stop. Turn. Each time the motions sharpened, as if the vessel was beginning to understand what he wanted without him having to spell out every muscle.
It almost felt like it was learning with him.
The thought made him uneasy.
Still, he pressed on. He willed the vessel to pivot, to face him fully, and this time it did so without jerking its head too far. A second command brought one hand up in a wave—stiff and robotic, but still recognizable as the gesture he had intended.
"Not bad," he murmured. "But even Jason moved better than this when he was drunk."
But with the small victories came a creeping question. His control was improving, yes, but why was he here at all? Why this empty stage, the two of them suspended in a place with no up or down, no ground to stand on, no wind to move the stars?
And why could he feel no breath in his lungs, no heartbeat, no weight to his limbs, yet still think, still see, still act?
The more he tried to place it, the less it felt like the hazy nonsense of a dream. There was a clarity to this place. The stars stayed exactly where they were. The darkness did not ripple or fade at the edges of his vision. Nothing here bent or shifted in the way dreams usually did.
[ Beep! Unknown server is attempting to establish connection. Accept connection? ]
"AHHH!! What th— Where did you come from? Did you do this?"
[ Beep! Negative. This environment was not generated by me. ]
"Then what is it?" Kez demanded, glaring at the floating text. "And why are you suddenly talking after ignoring me earlier?"
[ Beep! System resources were previously occupied. Resources have been freed up. Query: Accept incoming link? ]
Kez narrowed his eyes. "Wait… that means you were the one creating the mana channels?"
[ Beep! Clarification: Structural expansion was executed by endogenous mana flow. I supplied optimal routing matrices and channel topology schematics to minimize structural failure probability. ]
"Routing matrices… for my mana?"
[ Beep! Affirmative. Analysis indicated irregular mana usage had produced multiple non-concrete mana pathways throughout host body. These unstable conduits exhibited inconsistent flow vectors and frequent intersection with vital physiological processes, creating systemic interference. ]
"Non-concrete… so they weren't even real channels?"
[ Beep! Correct. Pathways lacked stabilized structure and cohesion. Continued irregular mana usage risked solidifying these unstable conduits. Without reinforcement, continued operation would have resulted in erratic mana distribution, functional degradation of internal organs, and probable systemic collapse. ]
"So you just… replaced them?"
[ Beep! Negative. Unstable pathways were re-engineered into concrete mana channels with fixed topology. New channels were mapped to avoid interference zones and integrated with legacy network to ensure uninterrupted mana circulation. ]
Kez crossed his arms. "So in a way, you built new roads and hooked them up to the old ones, while making sure they didn't plow straight through any buildings?"
[ Beep! Simplification acceptable. Primary objective was stabilization and compatibility, not expansion. ]
"Also, what do you mean by irregular mana usage?"
[ Beep! Standard mana flow utilizes the host's established channel network as the primary conduction medium. Current usage pattern bypasses these conduits, propagating mana directly through non-channel biological substrates. Analogy: comparable to electrical current traversing a building's structural materials rather than the dedicated wiring, increasing resistance variability and risk of structural interference. ]
"So you just added more wires to handle that weird flow? How does that even fix it? What if next time I use mana, it ignores these new channels too?"
[ Beep! Analysis of historical mana flow patterns indicates consistent preferential pathways despite absence of physical channels. Structural reinforcement was applied along these recurrent vectors. Probability of future bypass under identical usage conditions is calculated at 3.4 percent. ]
"I still don't fully get it but whatever. It sounds like I am not using my mana properly. I would be best to not use mana till I gain a better understanding of what normal mana usage entails."
Kez glanced at the flickering prompt still waiting for his input.
[ Beep! Query: Incoming external connection request persists. Accept or reject? ]
He snorted. "Yeah, that can wait. Last thing I need is some random server hijacking my headspace..." he paused.
"But most importantly... where the fuck am I? If you didn't make this place, then where am I?"
[ Beep! Insufficient environmental data. Current location does not correspond to any indexed physical coordinate system. ]
He frowned. "So… not in the real world?"
[ Beep! Unknown. No verifiable markers to confirm physical or non-physical state. Spatial metrics indicate infinite-range void with static luminous points. Gravitational reference frame: absent. Atmospheric composition: absent. Measurable temporal flow: unverified. ]
Kez stared at the surrounding stars. "You just described 'floating in nothing.'"
[ Beep! Affirmative. ]
"That's not helpful."
[ Beep! Clarification: Environmental parameters exceed operational familiarity. No logged precedent within system archives. Probability of anomaly: high. Probability of induced simulation: undetermined. ]
Kez let out a slow breath. "So, you don't know where I am, you didn't put me here, and you can't tell me how to leave."
[ Beep! Affirmative. ]
"Great. Really earning your keep here."
Kez gave the floating text a flat look, but it didn't respond further. The silence that followed was heavier now, as if the void had been listening in and was waiting for him to do something else.
He glanced at the vessel, which drifted in place with that same passive stillness. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. The stars remained frozen, distant points that felt too perfect to be real.
Then, on the edge of his vision, one of them slid sideways.
Kez turned his head, but it had already stopped. A heartbeat later, another shifted nearby. Then another. Slow, deliberate arcs, like pieces being nudged across some board too large for him to see.
A crooked line formed for only a moment before breaking apart. Several points winked out entirely, leaving gaps in the field, while others reappeared where there had been only black a moment ago.
It went on in silence, the movements creating shapes too fleeting to make sense of. For an instant, something vast seemed to connect them — angular, precise — before the pattern dissolved back into scattered lights.
A pulse of dim light rolled through the field, spreading far and wide until it faded into nothing.
Kez's vision whitened.
His eyes snapped open in the infirmary. The warmth of the cot and the faint scent of herbs rushed back all at once, grounding him in the present.
***
He lay still for several seconds, staring at the dark ceiling, the image of those shifting stars burned sharp into his mind. The infirmary was quiet now, the only light a dim glow from a single ward lamp near the door. He realized that he had been placed in a private room.
He flexed his fingers out of habit. No response came from under his skin. The thrum was gone. Not quiet, not faint but gone entirely, as if it had never been there.
The absence did not feel like relief. It felt intentional, like something that had been working toward a goal had finally reached it.
A faint click of the door latch broke the silence. Arlen stepped in, her braid catching the lamplight, a thin clipboard in her hand.
"You're awake," she said quietly, as if trying not to disturb the silence of the place. She stopped beside his bed, eyes flicking to the detection ward rune etched into the wall above his head.
"It never triggered," she said after a moment. "No spikes, no fluctuations. Your mana channels stayed completely stable all night… until now, I suppose."
Kez met her gaze. "So nothing happened?"
"Nothing measurable," she replied, though her eyes lingered on him as if weighing the truth of that. "You slept without interruption. No strain, no reaction to ambient mana."
He almost told her about the dream, the stars, the drifting body that felt like his own. Almost.
Instead, he pushed himself up on one elbow. "Then I'm fine to leave, right?"
Her brow lifted slightly. "This late?"
"My stuff is in my room," Kez said. "First day of classes tomorrow, and I'd rather not start it with nothing ready."
Arlen didn't answer right away. She studied him for a long moment, then glanced back at the ward as if to confirm it was still quiet. "You can go back to your quarters, but if you feel even the slightest flare, you drop everything and come straight here."
He gave a small shrug. "Sure."
She didn't look convinced. "You're holding something back."
Kez met her stare. He wasn't eager to share his latest space exploration adventure to the medic.
"I'm just tired," he shrugged.
After another pause, Arlen finally stepped back. "Rest, then. Tomorrow will come soon enough."
She left as quietly as she had entered, the door clicking shut behind her.
Kez stared at the ceiling, the stillness in his arm feeling too final, too satisfied. Whatever had gone quiet inside him… it hadn't stopped existing. It had just decided it was done for now.
He swung his legs over the side of the cot, the cold floor biting faintly at his feet through the thin socks they had given him. The infirmary was nearly silent now, the earlier shuffle of medics replaced by the low hum of the lights and the occasional creak from the old beams above.
He moved carefully, not because his arm hurt—it didn't—but because the absence in it felt deliberate. Like someone walking out of a room after leaving a note you had yet to read.
The halls outside were dim, lit only by strips of mage-light running along the floor. His footsteps echoed in the emptiness, swallowed quickly by the still air. Every door he passed was shut, the plaques beside them gleaming faintly in the pale glow. Somewhere far off, a clock chimed the half-hour, its tone dull and heavy.
He kept walking, the campus beyond the windows bathed in a thin silver from the moon. The training fields lay empty, the towers of the main hall rising like black teeth against the sky.
By the time he reached the Orlin wing, the noise of his own breathing was starting to feel too loud. He slowed, fishing the keycard from his pocket and glancing once over his shoulder—not because he thought anyone was there, but because the night felt like it was listening.
The reader clicked green. He slipped inside, the door shutting with a soft thud. The clock on the wall read 11:54. Almost midnight.
Kez let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Tomorrow could start without him if it wanted. Tonight, he just needed to be ready for it.
He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a muted thud. The clock on the wall read 11:54. Almost midnight.
Kez crossed the room to the wall-mounted terminal, its screen sleeping in a dim orange glow. A tap on the glass brought it to life, the academy's crest fading into the main menu. He navigated to his personal schedule, the soft chime of each selection echoing a little too clearly in the quiet room.
The wall terminal flickered to life, its interface minimal and sharp. Kez tapped through the menus until the day's schedule unfolded across the screen.
First class: Foundational Systems Briefing — 8:00 a.m., West Lecture Hall 2B.Second class: Space Theory — 10:00 a.m., same classroom.Third class: Combat Drills — 1:15 p.m., South Yard.Final session: Mana Training — immediately following drills.
He tapped the location tags and a campus map bloomed onto the screen, lines tracing the shortest paths. West Hall was three wings over, easy enough if he left early. The North Wing, though, would mean cutting through two courtyards and a connecting bridge.
At least the classes weren't back-to-back on opposite ends of the academy, he thought. That would have been a sprint.
He closed the schedule, the terminal dimming again. The room felt stiller without its soft glow, the heater in the corner providing the only sound. His uniform was folded on the chair, shoes lined up neatly beneath it.
Satisfied, he switched off the lights and sat on the bed after setting an alarm for 6:00 am. The pillow was cool, the mattress firm in a way that made him think it had been waiting for him. His mind drifted, uninvited, toward the memory of empty space and shifting stars, but he pushed it away. Tomorrow was already going to be a long day.
'I feel like I'm forgetting something important... meh if I can't remember it then it's probably not that important anyway.'
Within minutes, the quiet settled over him, and he sank into sleep.