The morning sun blazed through the grand arching windows of the Spell-Augmentation Wing, painting intricate lattice shadows across the marble floor. Towering shelves lined with shimmering artifacts loomed behind crystal panes, and chalkboards floated midair, scribbling formulas in a language so ancient it gave Seret an immediate headache.
Classroom Theta-9 was already packed by the time Kael and Seret slipped in. Their fellow students had split into two clear groups: those genuinely eager to learn, and those desperately trying to look like they understood what was going on.
At the center of the domed chamber, a lean, sharp-eyed professor floated six inches off the ground, legs crossed like a meditating sage. His robes shimmered with faint prismatic light, and dozens of minor runes danced across his skin like fireflies.
"Good morning, initiates," he said in a voice that vibrated through the room more like a bell than a person. "I am Professor Elvus Meran, and this is Spellcraft and Augmentation Theory. You will refer to me as Professor Meran. Or, if you prefer, simply: 'Please don't explode me.'"
Nervous chuckles rippled through the class.
"Today," Meran continued, "we begin your understanding of what separates a spellcaster from a weapon."
He clapped once, and a rune the size of a man's torso bloomed into view in the air behind him. It was a perfect circle, divided into nested rings of script, geometry, and raw mana. Students instinctively flinched as heat radiated off it.
"This is a conduit array," Meran said. "It is not a spell. It is not a rune. It is a bridge between intent and form."
He turned to face them, eyes glinting. "Spell augmentation begins where casting ends. It is not about what you can do, it is about how you improve what you already can. A firebolt is a spell. A firebolt that curves mid-air, splits on impact, then converts oxygen into high-velocity shockwaves? That's augmented casting."
He snapped his fingers. The array changed, showing a basic firebolt sigil morphing into increasingly complex branches.
"Every mage has three constraints: affinity, focus, and cost. Augmentation shifts the burden. You may not gain power, but you will gain options."
Kael's brows furrowed. It was complex. Fascinating. Dangerous. He was hooked.
A student in the front raised a hand. "But isn't it risky to tamper with spells mid-cast?"
"Of course it's risky," Meran said brightly. "That's why you're here and not dead."
Seret leaned toward Kael, whispering, "I like him. He's terrifying."
"Yeah," Kael muttered, "he reminds me of our old instructors. Just less stabby."
On cue, Meran's expression darkened. "Now. You will each attempt a minor augmentation today. I want a simple elemental bolt, modified to either curve, change color, or split. And before any of you ask: yes, this is hard. And yes, you'll likely fail."
He waved his hand. Glowing practice targets shimmered into being. "Try not to destroy anything valuable. And do not ignite your classmates."
The class broke into pairs. Kael and Seret took a far corner. Their target floated serenely above a stone plinth.
"Let's try a firebolt split into three," Kael suggested.
Seret rolled her eyes. "Of course. Because two wasn't dramatic enough?"
He grinned. "Gotta aim high."
Kael focused. He drew on his mana, not the wild, explosive force he'd relied on as a child, but the cold, directed flame he'd honed under pressure. He traced the spell in his mind: ignition, propulsion, shape…
Now for the augmentation.
He imagined the bolt branching like a tree at the last second. He carved an extra pattern into the casting array, no runes, just intent. It wavered.
FWOOSH.
The bolt launched.
Then split. Then the splits split. Six fiery darts peppered the wall, searing their target…and three others behind it.
"Sorry!" Kael shouted as a nearby student scrambled behind a desk.
Seret whistled low. "Okay, showoff. I get it."
Her own spell was… less dramatic.
She focused on curving her water bolt. The magic shimmered, surged,
, and veered directly into Kael's hip.
He yelped, spinning with a soaked leg and a disbelieving stare. "That was deliberate."
She smirked. "Maybe your ego needed a rinse."
From the front of the class, Professor Meran watched with unblinking interest.
He hovered toward them. "Well now. That was… unexpected. You," he said to Kael, "are dangerously instinctive. You shape magic like a duelist swings a blade. If you do not learn control, you will blow something up. Possibly yourself."
Kael scratched the back of his head. "Noted."
Meran turned to Seret. "And you… you weaponized passive aggression. Impressive."
Seret gave him a mock salute.
"For homework," Meran said, floating higher, "you will design your own augmentation array. Not one you can cast, yet. One you can explain. I want diagrams. Variations. A theory. Tomorrow, we dissect failures. Some of history's finest mages were terrible augers, and most of them ended up as smoke."
As he floated off, the students buzzed with nervous energy.
Kael sat down heavily, stretching his legs. "My brain is melting."
"Mine turned to soup an hour ago."
"Do you think we'll ever understand this stuff?"
"Maybe by the time we're ninety."
"Cool. I'll write that on my grave: 'He finally understood augmentation.'"
Seret chuckled, then elbowed him lightly. "You know, for a guy raised by murder cultists, you're weirdly good at homework."
"I'm weirdly good at setting things on fire."
"True."