There was a common tale that long ago was told by our ancestors. It was said that one day, in the sky, a huge fireball appeared. It glowed brightly within the night sky, so much so that when the sun had gone down, and all that remained were the moon and stars, the fireball above the clouds would glow so brightly that the night was hardly even nighttime. It was so bright that nobody really knew whether it was day or night, and it was there, something that all of recorded history had testified to seeing. And it was like that for several days according to the writings, though it must have been years in actual time when the Rock had gone from a distant, awe-inspiring view into their neighboring moon. That was all that could be found from the old records. The big blank in history.
Regardless of what happened next, it is presumed that the comet hit the Earth, causing what was probably the sixth ice age and bringing about the rapid growth of the Earth. For lack of any better explanation, scientists theorize that this supernatural event caused all individuals to gain the inherent ability to manipulate the supernatural energy known as manná by creating a hostile environment where humanity, and all life on Earth had no choice but to adapt and eventually evolve in order to survive the new hostile conditions that arose as a result of manná's strange effects on the body and interior soul.
Of course, people had alternative explanations for the rise of powers, yet none of them answered the mystery of how dwarves, elves, and every other non-human species came about. Who was the first giant? What circumstances led to a regular man becoming a towering behemoth with a staggering height of 27 feet? What is a dwarf or a gnome? Why are they so small but so physically imposing? Questions like that could only be answered by the comet and what it brought to the planet. Mana, and new microorganisms never before seen on planet Earth. Or any other planets that we have ever seen before.
I could go into a deeper explanation of it, but that would be a waste of everyone's time. Class was already ending, and the students in front of me looked almost ready to fall asleep at any second. And who could blame them? They came to a magic school expecting to learn cool tricks, only to be learning about history and how magic itself came about. "All right, class, tidy up the room before the bell announces," I said, clapping my hands once to stir the little life remaining in them back to fire. They all got up, a few students rushing to get their stuff back into their satchels before getting up, and into a line.
The others just use their magic to do the heavy lifting for them before pulling into a line next to the door and awaiting the announcement to go. Honestly, seeing their eagerness to leave rather than stick around to learn the wonders of how magic shaped our society kind of saddened me. So many of them were going to try out very specific professions that would require a great understanding of magic, yet they didn't care to learn the history behind it. It was not my business what they did with their lives, though.
All I needed to do was teach them what I knew, and even if they didn't cooperate in the endeavor, I was going to get paid anyway. It was just a shame, though. Turning around, I allowed my gaze to drift to the tall arched windows that lined the back wall of the classroom, and beyond them, the late afternoon sky shone brightly, the thick manná currents flying between the ley lines within the atmosphere making for a beautiful sight as the sun above reflected this sickly blue color that captured the dominating manná type currently moving along between the ley lines of the world.
It was breathtaking, and it reminded me of a dream that my late father had once: to see the true color of the sun one day by going into outer space. Sadly, he never got to see that dream come true. The bell chimed, and the students immediately filed out of the room in a rush of chatter, some of them giving a polite bow in my direction, but I didn't return the gesture, nearly all of them leaving the classroom except for one. "Is there a reason you're still in class, Rika?" I asked, turning to the sjinna sitting at the front desk of the class, her long silver hair blowing in an air current that didn't exist as her eyes stared into my own.
"I had a question I've been meaning to ask." Well, that was a first; at least somebody was interested in what I was teaching. "If there were a comet that hit the earth and caused all of this to happen, why don't we have any evidence of it currently existing today?" she said, tilting her head to the side, the faint amount of manná around her shoulders moving along with the rest of her ethereal body. It was a good question. "Your answer would be as good as mine kiddo." I said with a faint smile, leaning back against the edge of my desk. "Nobody really knows for sure."
Waving my hand up into the sky, a cloud from my own manná flew out of my hand, first as an iridescent ball of light before morphing to match the image that I had conjured from my mind, depicting a huge hole at the bottom of some ocean. "This is the abyss, the deepest and the widest hole in the entire world, and it might be the location where the comet landed, but it is just a theory with no supporting evidence." Rika didn't look convinced. Her silver brows knit together as she studied the floating image of the abyss, the illusory ocean parting to reveal the spiraling chasm beneath.
"But if it's that deep," she said slowly, "shouldn't there be... something? Like, residual manná unlike anything else? We can measure manná signatures now." I let out a soft hum. "We can measure surface signatures. The Abyss is different." With another flick of my fingers, the illusion shifted. The hole widened, descending into the deep darkness below, the projection struggling to keep the image intact as the increasing manná demands spiked. "Down there in the Abyss are just demons and monsters. Beyond that, we don't know anything else about that place yet."
Instead of giving up, she leaned forward slightly, silver hair sliding over her shoulder as the currents of mannā around her thinned in concentration. "But that's exactly why it would make sense, isn't it?" she pressed. "If the comet brought foreign things and mannā into the world, wouldn't all of the interesting stuff still just be at the impact site?" She's good. I studied her for a long moment. "That's assuming the comet remained intact," I replied. With a small motion, I collapsed the illusion into a single glowing point.
"As it fell into the world, if we're applying normal physics to a supernatural object like the comet, it was likely being shredded apart by the Earth before it finally impacted the ground." Rika didn't blink. "But it changed the world," she said quietly. "Something that powerful shouldn't just… scatter and disappear, right?" Allowing the conjured image to dissipate, I shrugged, offering her a smile for her efforts. "Until we have more evidence on the matter, right now, that is the most widely agreed-upon theory of what happened."
We talked a bit more after that, but finally, after what must have been 7 minutes, she went off with the rest of the students who hadn't already left the school, leaving me all alone in the classroom with my thoughts.
'I best be getting going myself.'
Packing up my things, I allowed the last wisps of my manná dissolve into the air. The classroom felt different when it was empty: cathartic, but oddly lonely in its own way. I slid my lecture notes into my satchel and paused, my fingertips resting on the worn leather cover of the old history compendium I carried everywhere. The spine had long ago lost its title, but I knew it by heart. "History of the Old Capital," a window into the medieval era, along with the mysterious runic carvings discovered beneath what is now the ruins of the Aethraval kingdom. It was my greatest work and what allowed me to get hired by the school, and it had brought me the amount of money I needed in order to escape the streets.
But, I hadn't forgotten the eyes of my peers that day when I first received the job. It was one thing to allow an elarun (an infertile man) to enter the school, but it was another thing entirely to allow a demon entrance at all. They thought the ugly manná infection on his right arm and his slightly distorted voice, as a result of his immense 'demonic' manná, were the early signs of corruption. Those barbarians would have killed me that day, if it hadn't been for Professor Tavian.
I owed that man everything, but it was all in the past now. Gathering up the rest of my things, I slung the satchel over my shoulder and extinguished the last floating lantern with a lazy curl of my fingers. The blue tint of ambient manná faded from the classroom walls, leaving only the warm gold of the late sun filtering through the arched windows, creating a rather enchanting scene that I really enjoyed looking at before having to close it since I was about to leave.
After making sure that every book was in its correct order in the book section of the class, I wrote a report on today's happenings for the High Chronicler, who oversees all of the history classes, to read before taking the rest of my things that were already packed up and leaving. Low murmurs and distant laughter echoed along the vaulted stone halls of the academy. It was the nature of nobles to gossip and scheme behind each other's backs for the sake of power and or status. The academy thrived on it as much as it did on manná.
It helped establish relations and break new ones, which in turn grew the school's political power and overall influence. The positions of its internal staff often held high esteemed titles; why they chose to be teachers instead of focusing purely on the things they specialize in could be for a variety of reasons. It might be because of what it offers to all of its staff members.
You'd never know with creatures like that. The corridor opened into the central rotunda, where a lattice of glass and white stone arched high above towards the vaulted ceiling, the current of manná drifting along the carved and rigid channels in the ceiling, following the inscriptions made there a century ago. Even indoors, the currents never truly stilled.
Manná was a background thing that affected everything, but here in the academy, it was more concentrated than anywhere else. "Take me to Lainytherael, in the eastern province of Brock Bay," I told the statue that overlooked the teleportation runes. Pressing my palm against the stone surface of the statue and infusing some of my mana into its core.
The construct's eyes flickered to life.
Carved from pale aetherstone and shaped in the likeness of the academy's founder, the statue stood three times my height at the edge of the rotunda's inner ring. Fine runic filaments traced its arms and collar, its eyes glowing a soft blue color at first as it assessed my manná. "Destination acknowledged," the statue intoned, its voice reverberating through the chamber as though spoken by the building itself. "Lainytherael. Authorization required." I exhaled softly and let a measured stream of my manná flow from my palm into the rune-etched stone. The sensation was always uncomfortable, like pouring warm water through a crack in ice, but the statue absorbed it without resistance, its surface briefly shimmering as the sickly red aura of my corrosive manná went into it.
"Authorization accepted. Professor Arcturus Vale. Clearance: Instructor-Class. Transit approved."
The runes inlaid within the circular platform at the statue's feet flared to life, one by one, igniting in a precise geometric sequence. Light spilled outward along the inscribed channels in the marble floor, connecting sigil to sigil until the entire teleportation array hummed in quiet resonance. A few lingering students paused at the edge of the rotunda to watch. They usually always did, because only the teachers within the academy were allowed clearance to use the teleportation runes or the few openings that allowed teleportation from within the academy and beyond.
Try to get into the academy without clearance, and one would be eviscerated from the inside out by the bound great demon on the lowest floor of the academy, whose manná was and still is in use by the academy to protect itself from any scrying, divination, or teleportation spells, be they from an elf, goblin, or even another demon. I stepped into the center of the array, adjusting the strap of my satchel over my shoulder. The air felt thicker inside the circle, the manná currents compressing and spiraling inward.
My ears popped faintly as the world around me dulled, the sound thinning as if I were submerged underwater. 'Transit in three.' The light intensified. "Two." The carved channels along the ceiling answered in kind, the entire rotunda briefly becoming a cathedral of blue radiance. "One." In a single instant, the world exploded into a myriad of colors, my physical body pulled inward along with everything else around me, my soul following in the next before my surroundings completely shifted from the scenery that it was once before into a busy street.
Looking down at my arms, I couldn't help but be amazed by the magic. It was slow and looked a little grotesque to the outside observer who might have been looking, but the fascinating miracle that was occurring right before me was no doubt an impressive one.
As the broken-down structure of my physical shell slowly began the arduous task of realigning itself to meet with the rest of my incorporeal features, the manná within the air pulled away from me, instead forming a thin barrier around me so as not to allow any outside interference to break in and kill me, while its aftereffects worked tirelessly to ensure that my body would be reconstituted without suddenly falling apart and dying from the process. It must have taken the mages who created the spell years to master.
The last pieces of my fingers knitted themselves together, sensation returning in a prickling wave that traveled from my bones to the rest of my skin, the world's color rushing back into my eyes all at once, the haze of transit snapping away like a veil torn from my vision. If it weren't for my eyes, I would have missed it all because of how instantly the change in scenery was. The barrier of manná thinned and then dissolved entirely, peeling away from my skin just as my eardrums were assaulted by a cacophony of various noises.
One of them, in particular, was very persistent.
"Sir, sir, sir!"
A persistent, tiny voice said from below. Looking down, the adorable face of a gobliness smiled up at me, her braids coming a bit undone as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine by human standards, though goblins did mature differently. A satchel nearly as large as her torso hung from one shoulder, stuffed to bursting with folded papers and what looked suspiciously like candied nuts wrapped in waxed cloth. "Is there something you need, girl?" I asked, adjusting my satchel before crouching down to meet the girl at eye level.
"You've reached the main branch of the teleportation hall. Please exit and make your way to the designated clearance lane so the next transit can proceed!" she recited in a single breath, as if repeating a memorized script for the hundredth time that day. It was odd that out of all the potential candidates, they would choose to assign a goblin to such a task, but I was only a historian, so what could I know? I rose smoothly to my feet and stepped off the circular inlay. The faint hum beneath my boots ceased.
The noise of the array reignited behind me almost immediately, the runes flaring as the next traveler prepared for transit. The goblin girl gave me a satisfied nod, as if she had personally maintained the integrity of the entire teleportation network, and then darted toward an elderly dwarf who had just materialized inside the circle. "Clearance lane, sir! Clearance lane!" she chirped, tugging insistently at the edge of his coat. I allowed myself the faintest smile before turning fully towards the street beyond the hall.
The teleportation hall opened directly into a wide avenue paved with pale stone that shimmered faintly beneath the ever-present manná haze. Overhead, thin bridges arched between buildings like a spider's web, their warding sigils lighting up lazily in the afternoon light, responding to the dominant manná current of the season. Market stalls lined the lower tiers of the street, their awnings dyed in saturated blues and greens that reflected the current season. A pair of towering hill giants lumbered past on the far side of the road, carrying on them a huge wagon as they went.
Unlike everyone else, who were clearly free men and women, they had slave collars on, showing the much darker aspects of the Capitol for all to see. I stepped aside to avoid a courier sprinting down the avenue with a glowing script hovering above his palm; the package was likely too volatile to be stored in a measly piece of parchment. The courier brushed past me in a gust of wind and ink-scented manná, the glowing script above his hand wavering as he vaulted over a low crate without breaking stride. "Rude," I muttered under my breath, adjusting my satchel before checking if there was anything stolen from it, relieved a moment later when there was none.
I stepped into the current of foot traffic, letting it carry me naturally down the straight avenue toward my apartment complex. The road sloped gently downward, curving toward the lower districts where the buildings grew narrower and the white stone gave way to older brick and timber frames reinforced with iron latticework. The further one moved from the central halls of governance and trade, the more the polish of the Capitol dulled into its usual rhythms. Poverty was the usual dance of the play, and as my path down the road diverged from the populace and into the less habitable zone of the streets, the dark sides of the capital had truly begun to rear their ugly heads.
When scarcity reached a point where only the worst remained, people often prioritized their survival and disregarded anything else in the pursuit of it. Maybe that's why this part of the city was abandoned by the president. The polished white stone of the upper avenues had long since given way to cracked brick and timber patched together with scrap metal and mismatched planks, and the ambient currents that shimmered so beautifully near the academy were now thinner than they had ever been, tugged into erratic eddies by poorly maintained warding posts and illegal siphon arrays bolted into some alley walls.
Gangsters, prostitutes, and slavers were the aristocrats around here.
I kept my head down and my pace steady. Some people moved past me, minding their own business as I did, but there were a few attempts at mugging by some ambitious or desperate individuals, and I didn't even bother fighting them. I gave them some money, and some just left with the amount that I gave them, but others didn't and wanted more, and only then did I reveal just how scary I could be with my magic if I wanted to. They left then, apologizing and thanking me for sparing them, even though I was never thinking about killing them in the first place.
After that, the minutes dragged on and final, I was home.