Chapter 145: Starlight and the Weight of Gold
Date: May 14, 1988 - 11:15 PM {12 Years Before Kaiser's Birth}
Location: Asura Academy - Girls' Dormitory, Room 304
Perspective: Cartethyia Everhart (Age 19)
I stared at the ceiling, but all I could see were the faces of the four students from Class A who packed their bags this morning.
We had won. We had ascended. Aria and I, the "Dynamic Duo of Disaster" from Class B and others, had scored high enough in the mid-terms to trigger the Ranking Shift.
We were Class A now. The Elite. The gold standard.
But my chest felt heavy, like I had swallowed one of the rocks I used for my Earth magic.
"Mmm... nrrgh..."
I glanced at the other bed. Aria was sprawled out like a starfish, one leg hanging off the mattress, drool pooling on her pillow. For a High Elf who bragged about "Elvian Grace" and "Superior Meditation Trances," she slept like a drunk dwarf.
"Must be nice," I whispered, tossing a pillow at her feet. She didn't even twitch. "To sleep without a conscience, you pointy-eared dwarf."
I sighed, kicking off my blankets. The room was stifling. It smelled of Aria's lavender perfume and my own anxiety.
I needed air.
I grabbed my shawl, wrapping it over my nightgown, and crept toward the door. I paused, looking back at Aria. I should wake her. We usually did everything together. Midnight snacks, sneaking into the library, accidentally blowing up the alchemy lab—it was always Aria and Cartethyia.
But tonight, looking at her peaceful, arrogant face, I felt a strange need to be alone. To figure out why winning felt so much like stealing from others… it feels wrong.
I slipped out into the hallway and headed for the maintenance ladder that led to the roof.
Rooftop - 11:22 PM
The night air hit me like a splash of cold water. It was crisp, carrying the scent of pine from the distant forest—the same forest where Aria and I had gotten lost all those years ago.
I took a deep breath, walking to the edge of the stone parapet. Below, the Academy grounds were silent, bathed in silver moonlight. Above, the sky was a canvas of infinite, glittering dust.
"It's not polite to sneak up on a sorcerer while he's practicing."
I jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs. I spun around.
He was sitting on the raised ledge of the clock tower base, his legs dangling over the side.
Alaric Monsieur Sterling.
The Golden Boy. The Class Representative. The guy every girl in the dorms had a shrine dedicated to, probably.
He didn't look back at me. He was looking up, his hand raised toward the sky. Faint, golden lines of mana were tracing the constellations above his fingertips—Celestial Magic.
"I wasn't sneaking," I shot back, my voice shaking only a little. "I am... here to admire the night sky!."
He chuckled—a low, warm sound that vibrated in the quiet air. He lowered his hand, the golden lines fading, and finally turned to look at me.
Even in the dark, he was unfair. Over six feet tall, blond hair catching the moonlight, green eyes that seemed to glow..
"Stars," Alaric repeated, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is that what you call insomnia?"
"Excuse me! I don't have insomnia." I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the parapet, trying to look casual.
"Well… uhh… Thank you. You basically dragged us across the finish line."
"We're class A from tomorrow."
"I helped you study," he corrected gently, turning fully toward me. "You and Aria did the work. You earned that 92% on Seismic Resonance. That was you, Cartethyia, not me."
He remembered the score. The exact number, the way he said it…
Heat bloomed embarrassingly across my cheeks. "Well… thanks. But it cost four people their spots. I saw them leaving today. One of them was crying."
Alaric's smile faded. The confident, crushing charisma dimmed.
"That is the system, Cartethyia," he said, voice lowered, eyes dimming. "Where there are winners, there must be losers.. The Academy filters the weak. If they failed, it means they weren't ready for what comes next. Better a tear today than a grave later."
It was the truth… And yet… it didn't match the softness I'd seen in him before.
"You sound cold," I muttered, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. "They were once studying with us, Alaric. Doesn't it bother you? Even a little?"
I braced for his irritation. For him to tell me I was naive, too soft, too moral for Class A.
Instead, he looked down..at his hands, at his clenched knuckles, at the quiet failure no one but him would ever acknowledge.
"I know," he said, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to help other classes too. I gave them extra notes. I stayed after curfew and sparred with some of them on weekends."
He was tired. He was carrying the weight of our entire class, the expectations of the teachers, and the guilt of the ones he couldn't save.
"But you can't make someone climb if their heart refuses to move," he admitted, voice breaking where it never had before. "So yes—it bothers me. It bothers me that I wasn't good enough to make them better."
"You were more than enough," I murmured before I could stop myself. "Even if they never rose to meet you."
My breath hitched. I had always seen him as Lord Sterling, the distant, perfect figure. But right now, sitting under the stars with his guard down, he was just someone trying to be a hero.
I walked over to the ledge and sat down next to him.
"You can't be a hero, Alaric," I whispered. The campus stretched below us, quiet and silver-lit. "You can't hold everyone to the ground and pull them to the sky at the same time."
His eyes lifted to mine, startled by the gentleness.
For a heartbeat, he looked like someone who had never been told it was permissible to be tired.
"Earth-magic wisdom?" he asked, a hint of a smile returning. "Or is this you telling me, in your quiet way, or is that some sort of invitation? Because if it is… that might be the kindest I've heard all year."
The starlight caught in his eyes, and for one dangerous heartbeat, I wished I could answer honestly.
"Something like that.. Earth-magic's wisdom," I breathed. "I just know that if you try to carry every soul in our class, you'll collapse under the weight. And then who's going to lead us crazy people in Class A?" He laughed, and this time, it sounded genuine. Lighter.
"And then who would we follow? Who would I… trust to lead me?" I whispered to myself.
"You underestimate yourself," he said quietly. "If I ever did fall, you'd be one of the few I'd trust to keep the rest standing."
My heart flipped, painfully, beautifully—but I only smiled, as if his words didn't mean more than breath.
"You and Aria, probably," he said with a quiet laugh. "You two are… relentless. I've never seen students debate a professor about the ethics of transmuting lead into callings and actually win."
"It was a perfectly valid point!," I argued, trying and failing not to smile. "Callings are moral. Morale is victory. Therefore, callings are strategically essential."
"I suppose it is." Alaric shook his head softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I'm still not sure if that was genius or madness."
"Both," I offered. "Usually both."
He leaned back on his hands as he laughed in my retort, looking up at the sky again. "The stars are clear tonight. Not a single cloud to hide them."
"Limitless," I whispered, following his gaze.
"Beautiful," he said.
I turned to look at him, thinking he was talking about the constellations. But he wasn't looking at the sky anymore.
He was looking at me.
His green eyes were intense, searching, reflecting the starlight in a way that made my breath catch in my throat.
"You always see things that way," he murmured, not looking away. "Vast, unafraid… like the world is never too big for you."
For one dangerous heartbeat, I thought he was going to kiss me. The air between us was thick, charged with something far more volatile than the Alchemy labs.
GOSH WHY DID I EVEN THINK THAT???
Then, the corner of his lip quivered, and the intensity shattered into mischief.
"Pop quiz," Alaric said, pointing a long, elegant finger toward a cluster of faint lights near the horizon. "That star constellation. Fourth quadrant. What is it?"
I blinked, the whiplash of the mood change nearly giving me vertigo. I squinted at the sky. It looked like... a squiggle. Or maybe a squashed spider.
"That's... the Great Bear?" I guessed, sounding more confident than I felt.
"That," Alaric chuckled, shaking his head, "is the Weeping Willow. The Great Bear is literally behind you."
"Oh." I cleared my throat, turning around. "Right. I knew that. I was testing you."
"Uh-huh." He shifted, pointing to a bright red star pulsing angrily above us. "How about that one? It's a classic. Every first-year Celestial mage knows it."
I stared at the red dot. It looked hot. It looked angry.
"The... Angry Eye?" I tried. "The Bloody Coin? Mars's ugly cousin?"
Alaric burst out laughing, leaning back on his hands. "The Bloody Coin? Cartethyia, that's Antares. The Heart of the Scorpion."
"Well, scorpions are angry!" I huffed, crossing my arms as my face heated up again. "It's a logical deduction based on the chromatic spectrum of the light!"
"And that one?" He pointed again, clearly enjoying this way too much.
"A rock," I snapped. "A shiny, floating rock."
"Technically true, but it's Venus."
"Ugh!" I let out a groan of frustration, throwing my hands up. I puffed out my cheeks, pouting as I glared at the infinite abyss above us.
"This is rigged. The sky is rigged. It's just dots, Alaric! How can I even know their names?!"
He was laughing so hard his shoulders shook, the sound echoing softly against the clock tower. It was a nice sound. Annoying, because it was at my expense, but nice.
"It's not just dots," he teased, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's our space's history."
"It's unfair," I grumbled, leaning back against the cold stone parapet. "If I had your fancy Celestial eyes, I could cheat too!"
"I'm used to looking down, Alaric. I look at the dirt, the strata, the tectonic shifts. You look up and see poetry. I look up and see a ceiling I can't reach. If I knew the celestial mechanics, I wouldn't be guessing 'The Bloody Coin.'"
"You have a point," he conceded, his voice softening as the laughter faded into a comfortable smile. "You focus on the foundation. I focus on the height."
He paused, his gaze drifting over me, thoughtful.
"Is that why you were trying to learn Water magic by the lake yesterday?"
I froze.
My heart actually skipped a beat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."
"Cartethyia," he drawled, shifting closer on the ledge. "I saw you. You and Aria. You were trying to condense atmospheric moisture into a sphere. You tried for three hours."
"You got soaked."
I looked away, humiliation burning my neck. I didn't want him to know that. I was supposed to be the genius Earth mage, the girl who argued with professors.
Not the girl who couldn't form a single water droplet without blowing it up.
"I was... experimenting," I muttered defensively. "Hydro-geology is a valid field of study. I was just... checking the... surface tension."
"You were trying to learn a new element," he corrected gently. "And you were frustrated because it didn't come naturally."
He scooted closer..
"Why didn't you ask for help?"
"Because," I whispered, picking at a loose thread on my shawl. "Because everyone expects me to just know things. I'm from a noble family…"
"Aria gets it instantly. You get it instantly. If I have to ask... it means I'm not..."
Not special.
"I can teach you," Alaric said.
I looked up sharply. "What?"
"Water magic," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know the theory. I know how the mana flows. It's different from Earth. Earth is rigid; water flows."
"You're trying to force the pressure. I can show you how to guide it."
I tried to brush it off, waving my hand dismissively. "You don't have to do that, Alaric. You're busy. You have your own training, the Class Rep duties, the whole 'saving the world' Knight thing. You don't have a reason to waste time on me."
Alaric stopped smiling. He reached out, his hand hovering near mine on the stone ledge, not quite touching, but close enough that I felt the heat of his palm.
"I don't need a reason to help you, Cartethyia."
The wind rustled through the ivy on the tower, but the silence between us felt loud.
"We've been classmates for almost a year," he said, his voice low and serious. "I watch you. I watch how you study until your eyes are red. I watch how you practice spells until your body is exhausted."
He looked at me with an intensity that made my knees feel like water—ironic, considering that was the element I couldn't master.
"Everyone else sees a noble genius," he murmured. "They see the girl who aces the written exams and mocks the curriculum. But I see the hard work."
"I know how hard you fight to stay at the top. You aren't just talented, Cartethyia. You are relentless. And I admire that more than any natural gift."
My breath hitched.
He knew I worked hard…? Not the disguise I wore, not the loud, sarcastic girl who deflected everything with a joke. He saw the fear, the effort, the desperate need to prove I belonged here.
"You... you admire it?" I squeaked, my voice betraying me completely.
"I do," he said simply. "So, please. Let me help you. Let me make the climb a little easier."
I looked at his hand, then up at his green eyes. They were earnest. Open.
Maybe… I should give him a chance.
I nodded, feeling the heat rise all the way to my hairline.
"Okay," I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Okay. You can help me. But... if you laugh when I splash myself, I will turn your shoes into mud."
Alaric beamed, a genuine, dazzling smile that outshone every star in the sky.
"Deal."
May 15, 1988 - 5:15 PM
The hardest part was the lie.
"Going to do some solo Earth magic practice by the old river banks," I told Aria, shoving my small, worn textbook on Hydro-mana into my satchel.
Aria, currently lying upside-down on her bed reading a romance novel, did not look up. "Why? Did your soil suddenly get lonely? Do you need to explain the complexities of sedimentary layering to a fish? Whatever. Don't be late for dinner. I hate it when they serve the spiced venison cold."
I forced a shrug. "Just need... focus. Earth requires solitude, you know. Total, profound connection with the bedrock of existence."
"Profound," Aria echoed dryly, turning a page. "Fine. But if you come back smelling like mud and dir, I'm locking you out."
I shut the door before she could see the guilt in my eyes. It felt profoundly wrong to keep a secret from Aria, but I couldn't explain this.
How could I say, Oh, I'm sneaking off with the school's Golden Boy so he can teach me the one thing I'm terrible at, and I'm pretty sure I'm developing "The gravity of the soul" feelings for him?
Impossible.
Thirty minutes later, the Asura Forest air was cool and damp. Alaric was already waiting by the narrow, fast-moving riverbank that marked the edge of the training grounds. He was wearing an old tunic and training trousers, looking less like a noble and more like a relaxed university student. My heart performed a complicated jump-and-stutter maneuver.
"Ready, Earth Witch?" he asked, a familiar, kind challenge in his green eyes.
"Ready, Star Boy," I shot back, trying to sound unaffected. "But just so we're clear, I'm already a master of my field. This is just advanced cross-training."
He just smiled and gestured to the river.
The Flow of Time: Two Months of TuitionSession 1: May 15, 1988 - 5:45 PM
The shadow of what could be.
"Water magic is not about force, Cartethyia," Alaric explained, crouched beside me. He picked up a smooth, grey river stone.
"Earth is stability, the fortress. It requires your will to impose order on chaos. Water is the opposite. It requires you to submit. To let go of what you think you know and feel the flow."
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on his theory.
Submit.
"So, I have to be weak?" I asked, frustration already building. My inner monologue was demanding I push the water.
"No," he said, and his voice was so close, so patient. "You have to be formless. The river doesn't care about strength; it only cares about destination."
"Try to feel the river's current inside your veins, like a second heart."
I tried. I pushed my mana out, focused entirely on the cool, rushing water.
Result: Nothing. The river rushed past, completely ignoring me.
"I think the river hates me," I huffed, opening my eyes.
Alaric was trying to stifle a laugh. "The river is indifferent, Cartethyia. Indifference is harder than hatred. Try again. You are fighting it, trying to pin it down like a hunter."
I tried again. This time, I focused too hard on "flow." My mana felt like it slipped right out of my fingertips and splattered onto my boots.
"Aha! Look!" I cried, pointing at the damp spot on the ground. "Progress! I successfully wetted the perimeter!"
Alaric laughed, shaking his head. "You just sweated, Cartethyia. The river is still in charge."
Oh wow such amazing results.
Session 5: May 29, 1988 - 6:00 PM
The gravity of the soul
"We need a new approach," Alaric announced, sitting back against a willow tree. He looked tired after his own brutal combat training, but he never missed a session. He always looked at me like this was the most important thing he was doing all day.
Why? My heart did a painful, hopeful clench.
"I think the issue is Earth's philosophical grip," he mused. "You see the water as an enemy to be contained. You must treat it like a long-lost friend you are greeting."
"An embrace."
"So, I need to send out a mana-hug?" I asked, deadpan.
"Precisely," he nodded. "A very gentle, respectful mana-hug."
I extended my hands over the river and focused on the concept of 'friendship.' I tried to infuse my mana with the idea of 'loyalty' and 'shared secrets,' the way Aria and I connected.
Result: My hands twitched. A tiny, silver spray of water shot out—and completely drenched Alaric's face.
I stared, horrified. He froze, water dripping from his perfectly sculpted nose and jawline.
A moment of silence. Then, my defensive instinct kicked in.
"That," I announced triumphantly, "was the Vengeful Geyser of the Underpaid Student. It's highly advanced. It tests the mental resilience of the instructor."
Alaric blinked the water out of his eyes, then slowly smiled. He pushed his wet hair back.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said, his voice husky. "It was clumsy, but you forced the flow. That's a breakthrough, Cartethyia. And frankly, I deserved that."
"I... I'm sorry," I managed, suddenly flustered by his damp intensity.
"Don't be," he said, standing up and shaking himself off like a wet dog.
"Now we know what happens when you get angry. You activate the water's temper. Now, let's replicate the temper, but without aiming it at my head."
He wasn't angry.
My relief was so profound it felt like joy. He only cared about the process. The realization that my mistake hadn't driven him away was a profound comfort.
It felt like he was telling me, I care for you, regardless of your flaws or successes.
It was a gentle, constant force, like the river itself.
Session 12: June 19, 1988 - 6:30 PM
The spark that defies entropy.
The sessions had become the best part of my life. It was just an hour of failure and frustration, but it was an hour where I was with him.
"Imagine," Alaric was saying, running his fingers through the water, "that Water is flowing around you. It holds the path of every drop that came before it. You don't create the path; you simply ask the memory to replay itself."
I frowned, trying to picture this. "So, I'm asking the water to remember when it was a giant, cool bubble I can control?"
"You're asking it to remember its shape," he corrected gently.
I closed my eyes, pushing aside my need for perfection. I just wanted the feeling of his undivided attention. I focused on the idea of 'Memory.'
Result: A small, perfect bubble of water, shimmering with captured moonlight, hovered exactly two inches above my palm.
I gasped, throwing my eyes open. "Alaric! Look! A perfect... Wait! What is it?"
"It's a ball, Cartethyia," he whispered, his eyes wide. He was leaning so close his breath warmed my ear. "It's a perfect, stable aqueous sphere. You did it."
The Joy was instantaneous, explosive. It was the thrill of the win, multiplied by the fact that he was sharing it with me.
The spark that defies entropy. This moment, this pure triumph, felt like it could hold back all the heavy, dark thoughts of the Academy.
But the moment I thought about the next step—What if I lose it?—the bubble popped.
I was soaked again.
Alaric chuckled, his face glowing with genuine pride. "That's why you can't be afraid, Cartethyia. Fear makes the flow rigid."
Session 17: July 2, 1988 - 7:00 PM
Last Day of Training
Two months. I could now consistently make the water bubble. Sometimes, I could even make a small, lazy spiral of liquid rope. But I couldn't replicate the "Vengeful Geyser," and the effort drained me utterly.
We were sitting by the river, the air smelling like impending summer storms.
"Last session," Alaric said, looking out at the sky. "You've mastered the fundamentals of Hydro-connection. Now you just need time. And a new philosophy."
"I don't need a new philosophy," I sighed, tossing a pebble into the water. "I need a new brain. I'm a rock, Alaric. I'm a magnificent, perfectly dense rock, and I'm trying to be mist. It's an anatomical impossibility."
"You are not a rock," he countered, his voice firm. "You are the pressure that makes the mountain. You are the relentless force."
I took a deep breath. I pushed my mana out, focused on the idea of Pressure. I tried to force the water to rise, to remember the feeling of that fluke, glorious geyser.
I pushed, and pushed, until my temples throbbed.
Result: Nothing. Not a bubble. Not a splash.
The river just continued its smooth, uncaring rush.
I pulled my hands back, wiping them on my damp trousers. My vision blurred slightly.
"I can't do it," I whispered, the exhaustion turning into a painful wave of disappointment. "It was a fluke. I'm wasting your time, Alaric. I'm not... I'm not meant to be more than one thing."
The failure was a cold, sick weight in my stomach. The shadow of what could be—his disappointment—was crushing me.
He turned to me, his expression serious. He reached out and gently took my hands, his touch warm and steady.
"You failed today, yes," he said. "But you tried for two months, every single day, after a full day of classes. Everyone else in Class A is focused on maintaining their rank. You are focused on growth."
He squeezed my hands once, letting go before my flustered mind could quite catch up.
"That makes you the strongest student I know, Cartethyia. Never confuse failure with inability. You just found one more way that doesn't work. And that's progress."
He picked up his satchel and stood up. "Come on. Let's get you back before Aria eats your part of dinner."
I stood up slowly, the failure still raw, but his words... they were the most beautiful spell I had ever heard.
As we walked back through the twilight forest, shoulder-to-shoulder, I knew the failure of the water magic didn't matter. I had failed to summon a geyser, but somewhere between the first session and the last, I had succeeded in summoning something far more difficult: The terrifying, beautiful weight of love.
The gravity of the soul.
And I wasn't ready for it to let go.
6/18/2001 - 3:00 AM {1 Year After Birth}
Decayed Foundation – Living Sector 4
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart
The sounds of the story stopped. The tight pressure of her arms around my small body remained.
Her breathing was slower now, less frantic than before the start of the memory. The tears had almost disappeared, replaced by the faint, familiar smile she wore. I felt the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath my cheek.
The heat from the memory made her face look soft and tired. Her black eyes, which always held so much suppressed emotions, were mostly clear now.
"I guess I liked him too, honey," she whispered, her voice rough, like tearing silk. "More than liked. But we were never meant to be by the heart. Some things... some paths just don't align."
I did not move. My cheek stayed resting against the curve of her collarbone.
"Those times," she murmured, stroking the back of my head slowly, "at the Academy. They felt easier. Simple. The problems were about passing an exam, or finding a way to make a water bubble. Not..." Her voice trailed off, lost in the present reality of the Foundation.
"Not about this. The world gets heavier when you grow up, Kaiser. The consequences get personal."
She was quiet for a long moment, tracing the bone behind my ear with her thumb. It was a comforting, repetitive action.
Then she gave a sudden, tired smile, tapping my head twice.
"There," she said, her voice brightening slightly. "I fulfilled my promise. The embarrassing, messy, Cartethyia-at-nineteen story. Are you happy now, honey?"
I made a subtle nod against her chest. I did not need to speak. She felt the movement.
"Thank you for hearing me," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "I really love you, my serious little prince."
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, her expression turning strangely vulnerable. This was new knowledge to me. Her face was open, unguarded.
"No one else knows that side of me, you know," she said, her voice hushed. "Not Aria. Certainly not your... my family. I wanted to forget it, bury it under all the emotions and the anger and the should-haves." She shook her head softly.
"But you made me pull it out. You made me look at the nice memory, not just the ending."
Her confession was not a request for comfort. It was a statement of fact, a gift of trust.
She is sharing a point of fragility.
Then her mood snapped, shifting back into the familiar pattern of affectionate deflection. She lifted me quickly, bringing my face right up to hers, our noses touching. Her eyes were playful.
"You are a little meanie," she teased, wrinkling her nose at me.
I analyzed the input.
Term: Meanie.
Definition: A person who is mean; cruel; unkind.
Context: Her emotional state is Joy, registered as affection and high-frequency giggling. Her action is gentle and close.
Analysis: The term is logically inconsistent with the observed state and action. Contradiction.
I opened my mouth, speaking slowly and clearly because the concept was complex.
"How?"
She threw her head back and let out a bright, loud laugh that echoed faintly in the small room. She tightened her arms, lifting me up and down in a sudden, dizzying motion that felt like a system malfunction but was supposed to be fun.
"Because you are only one year old, and you can already read my soul!" she cried, pouting her lips out dramatically.
"That is so unfair! A mother should be allowed to have at least some mysterious layers! Where did you learn to look past my lies, you tiny, brilliant devil?"
She put me down, holding me against her chest with one arm, while the other gestured wildly.
"I mean it, you," she cooed, jostling me again. "You are my favorite. I couldn't have asked for a better future. I love you, Kaiser, I love, love, love you!"
"You're better than every memory I had! Better than any happiness! Nobody is better than you!"
I let her hold me, absorbing her energy. She was generating a high volume of positive, illogical statements.
Best future. The future is currently undefined and highly volatile. Even so she believes I'm her happiness?
I did not point out the logical errors. She was happy.
She nestled me back into her original position. "Okay, sleepyhead. You need to rest. We've been talking for a long while."
I felt the smooth rhythm of her heart again. I held onto her shirt, focusing on a final, necessary piece of data.
I mumbled into her chest, the words coming out softly. "D-do yo-o..u ha-a..ve r-regrets?"
She stiffened slightly. She paused, putting one finger against her lips, thinking. I waited for the heavy answer, the one about the betrayal, or the music box, the loss of her former life.
Her black eyes snapped back open, filled with sudden, comical energy.
"Yes!" she declared, leaning back slightly.
"I regret never mastering the Water element! Ugh! Even after all those training sessions, I still practiced for months afterward, hoping to replicate the Vengeful Geyser. I never could! Not one decent, stable bubble outside of Alaric's supervision! He was such a great teacher, so patient, but I was just baddddd at it!" She threw her hands up in mock exasperation, shaking her head.
"A lifetime regret! A tragedy of the arcane arts!"
She settled me back down, smiling wide. Her answer was light, easy, and not the truth.
I watched her smile.
Time carved into the mind. That's a memory. However, what she wishes for now is a reality where her dream is agreed upon by existence. The memory is insufficient. The desire remains active.
I can help her.
She shifted, settling her back against the wall of the cot. She carefully maneuvered me, rotating my body until I lay on my side, my head still cushioned on her chest, right over the slow, comforting rhythm of her heart. Her arm came around me, firm and warm, wrapping me safely.
The thin blanket was pulled up over my shoulders. She looked down at me, her eyes heavy with contentment.
Rest now.
My mind, however, did not recognize the concept of rest when a task was incomplete. She had expressed a persistent failure: the inability to use Elemental-Water Magic, despite two months of consistent guidance from a known high-level instructor.
This was a flaw in the system, and flaws could be exploited.
The goal is to generate a stable aqueous sphere, replicating the 'Vengeful Geyser' fluke.
I began to analyze the components provided by the memory.
Inputs:
Desired Output: Stable Water Elemental Magic.
User (Cartethyia) State: Highly disciplined, high internal pressure (Earth Mage), emotional investment (Frustration/Desire).
Instruction Set (Alaric's): Focus on flow, submission, memory, embrace.
Observed Failure Point: Success was inconsistent, reliant on accident or intense emotion (anger/joy), suggesting a bypass of the instruction set.
Why do the instructions fail?
Alaric described the process as instinct. Instinct is a function of the organism, not the external world. Therefore, the failure is internal to the Person. But her efforts were maximized.
Her will was absolute.
What is elemental magic?
They call it the shaping of Mana. Mana is the energy of the Soul.
If I can shape my own body—move a finger, draw breath—by willing it, then Elemental Magic is simply an extension of the will. It is the boundary between the internal and the external.
But what shapes the will?
They speak of Mana, but that is merely the fuel. The visualization is the process. If visualization is the conversion layer, what are the parameters of the conversion?
It cannot be logical. Cartethyia is profoundly hardworking, and her attempts failed. It must be something more fluid, something beyond her hardworking mind.
I began to ask the higher-order questions, weaponizing my own aporetic certainty that the known answers were fragile.
If Mana is the Soul's energy, why does it need the world's structure to take form?
The answer cannot be found in the Mana itself. It must be found in the structure of reality they use to define it.
They speak of elements. They speak of colors.
They speak of light and dark.
The Fragmented Spectrum.
They see Color as a property of light. But what if Color is the boundary condition? The difference between a fragment of Energy and a fragment of Form. The spectral boundary defines the visible Mana.
The Song of Ice and Fire.
They see temperature as a measure of heat. But what if Temperature is the rhythmic boundary of motion? The slow, chaotic vibration is heat; the fast, ordered wave is cold. The Mana's innate pulse dictates its structural integrity—its form.
The Fundamental Forces.
They see Physics, Chemistry, Biology as separate sciences. But they are merely the Shapers of the Universe. Attraction is Gravity; Exchange is Chemistry; Replication is Biology. These are the Mana's Actions—the verbs of the reality they live in.
The Absence of Light/Dark.
They see Light as vision and Dark as mystery. But what if Light is the Presence of self-awareness in Mana, and Dark is the Absence of external validation?
The mysterious emptiness is just the Mana that has not yet been named.
How does this relate to Cartethyia's water problem?
Cartethyia failed because she tried to impose Earth's parameters—Stability (Form), Will (Control)—onto Water.
Alaric said, "Water is flow. It is memory." He was close, but he was defining the outcome, not the process.
Water, then, must be the Mana that exists between the definitive boundaries.
Hypothesis:
The Flaw in the Instruction: Alaric instructed her to submit and embrace. This is a secondary effect. Cartethyia, as an Earth Mage, generates Mana through Pressure (her core drive).
The Nature of Water: Water is the fluid constant. It is the element that holds the Memory of the Form without needing the Pressure of Will to maintain it. It must be defined by Change.
To instantly create a Hydro-sphere, one must access the core function of water.
The solution is not to create the water, but to ask the surrounding reality to agree that the water already exists.
She must not impose her will (Earth). She must not merely flow (Wind). She must not generate heat (Fire). She must not merely observe (Light).
She must use her internal Pressure—the very thing that makes her a powerful Earth Mage—not to force the mana, but to Compress the Boundary Conditions.
The Earth Mage compresses the space. She must compress the spectrum (Color), compress the motion (Temperature), and compress the actions (Forces) into a singular, frictionless point.
This singular point of Absolute, Contained Pressure will force the ambient Mana to resolve its own contradictions. The only substance that holds all parameters in flux—defined yet yielding, solid yet liquid—is Water.
The Vengeful Geyser was a fluke because her anger was an uncontrolled release of this Pressure, briefly achieving the necessary compression before shattering. She needed to contain the pressure, not release it.
The methodology is not one of effort, but one of precise, paradoxical restraint.
I found the theory.
It was cold. It was systematic. It utilized every piece of her internal data.
Cartethyia had no flaws in her hardwork or learning.
Avalric was just an inferior teacher.
She turned onto her side, facing me. The arm around me tightened slightly, drawing me close enough that I could feel the gentle pressure of her collarbone beneath my cheek. My body was completely secure, contained by the warmth of her presence.
The environment was optimized for rest.
But the theory was still active. I needed to verbalize the solution to the failed Water Magic. The longer the delay, the more likely the solution would be corrupted by external knowledge.
I pushed my small hands against her chest, trying to push out the conclusion.
"Cartethyia ," I started, the sound weak. "W-wa-ter is... p-p-press-ure..."
She just smiled, a soft, indulgent look.
I tried again, desperate to articulate the precision. "C-c-color... spec-trum... n-n-not..." My tongue felt heavy, disconnected from my thought process.
The complexity of the idea was too great for the simple muscular actions of my one-year-old mouth. I reached out a hand, shaking it slightly to emphasize the failure.
"V-visu-al... sh-shape..."
"Shh, shh. It's enough, sweetheart," she whispered, stroking my hair. "Mama knows you're tired. All those big thoughts need to rest, too."
I persisted, attempting to explain the most critical part—the paradoxical restraint. "A-aval-ric... f-f-fail-ed..."
She chuckled, her chest vibrating gently. "He tried his best, honey. He was a sweet boy. Now, close your eyes."
I ceased speaking. The attempt was a profound failure. The complexity of the thought process was directly inversely proportional to the simplicity of the vocal output.
Assessment: Complete communicative failure.
It was a devastating realization.
Alaric, the Failed Teacher, only provided the results (flow, memory).
I, Kaiser, the Failed Speaker, had found the mechanism (compression, paradox) but could not transmit the thoughts.
Two failures, connected by the same problem: inefficiency.
I needed to adapt.
Verbalization was unreliable. I had to refine the theory into an undeniable, repeatable command set.
I began to reason about the necessary preparatory knowledge required for the next attempt. I needed to ground the theory not just in abstract concepts like Color Spectrum and Fundamental Forces, but in her tangible reality.
I need the Chemistry of Water (H₂O bonding). I need the Biology of the human body (Mana channels/nerves). I need the Physics of Gravity and Movement (Containment field/external pressure).
I would summarize the necessary concepts into a single, perfectly designed sentence—a precise command that would activate the internal Pressure mechanism without requiring verbal fluency from me.
I would make the attempt impossible to fail.
The sudden clarity of the plan caused a small internal wave of surprise.
Why was I asking myself for opinions? I don't ask. I reason.
The voice of internal doubt, the check for optimal output, was her influence.
She constantly debates herself, questions her own moves, and finds strength in that self-talk. It was useful. I found the self-correction to be an efficient feedback loop.
I looked at her face, which was already half-shadowed by sleep. I gave a small, subtle nod, accepting the new adaptation.
"Goodnight, my prince," she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion and love.
I moved my mouth, managing the simple syllables. "G-goodnight."
She leaned down and placed a warm, soft kiss on my forehead. The touch was gentle, a final anchor to the world of the Living Sector.
I allowed my eyes to drift shut, consciously loosening the systematic processing of the waking world. The rhythmic thump-thump of her heart was the last input I registered.
6/18/2001 - 3:25 AM {1 Year After Birth}
Decayed Foundation – Dream Land
The pressure vanished. The warmth dissolved.
I was standing. The floor beneath my feet was the same sterile, featureless white. The air was thin, tasting of ozone and nothing.
I was ten years old.
The Instructor stood at the front of the room, his face a featureless shadow in the oppressive glare of the white light. The slate in his hand glowed with geometric diagrams.
I looked around the room. The rows of desks were mostly full. Counting quickly: there were fifty-two students present. The empty spaces remained.
The Instructor's monotone voice sliced through the silence. "Designation 000001."
"Present."
"...Designation 000044."
"Present."
"...Designation 000852."
"Present."
The number sequence reached the last entry.
"...Designation 000981."
"Present."
I had been the last to arrive. I walked to the back row, my movements economical and quiet, and sat in my designated seat.
I had systematically solved a problem—the failure of Water Magic—using knowledge entirely outside my direct experience (a memory) and extrapolating the solution using contradictory, higher-order reasoning.
I began with the assumption that every instruction was fragile and the reality was paradoxical.
Standard genius focuses on having the right answers.
Aporetic false genius focuses on asking the superior questions.
The other students here are "Geniuses." They memorize and execute complex algorithms with impossible speed. Their genus lies within their vertical thinking and perfect memory.
But they only question the how.
They do not question the why.
If I can maintain this relentless, questioning habit—this constant search for the ultimate fragility of any given truth—I can generate solutions they cannot even frame.
The flawed genius.
The questioned false genius.
A cold sense of purpose settled in my chest. I gave a silent, minimal nod to the empty white space in front of me. I would survive.
The Instructor clapped his hands once. The sound was sharp, final.
"Welcome to the start of Year Two," he stated.
"The new curriculum begins now. The subject is: Self-Studying."