She pressed a hand against the carved railing, fingertips trailing over well-worn grooves. Three years had passed since she first crossed these halls, a determined novice forging her path with unstoppable synergy. But now she returned an Initiate Mage, her knowledge tested in real dungeons, her robes subtly embroidered with advanced runic lines that caught the morning light. She should have felt triumph, but a hint of unease gnawed at her. She recalled the heartbreak of leaving her adventuring party—the Doombroks—and the echoes of Roy’s meddlesome illusions that once overshadowed her efforts here.
Her chest tightened briefly. He won't hold me back. She had grown from naive novice to a well-traveled battlemage. “I’m here,” she murmured, inhaling the hush of academic bustle. “Whatever these new lessons hold, I’ll see them through.”
The next morning found Ventania in a spacious hall known as the Brimlight Annex, a newly constructed addition to the Academy designed to consolidate specialized classes. Its walls of polished obsidian soared overhead, etched with mesmerizing geometric runes that pulsed faintly when touched. Tall windows looked out onto a tranquil garden, every leaf rustling in a hush of magical breezes.
She wasn’t alone. Dozens of advanced or returning students mingled anxiously in the seats, exchanging greetings or flipping through course schedules. A low hum of conversation underscored their nerves—this was the orientation for the specialized track: synergy, illusions, and runic studies. Each domain had its pinnacle achievements, each shaped the Academy’s mystique. Now Ventania and her peers would delve deeper than standard courses had allowed.
A broad dais stood at the room’s far end, ringed by shimmering wards that flickered whenever someone approached. Three tall lecterns faced the assembly, behind which stood the new instructors. Ventania scanned them with a flicker of curiosity. She recognized none: Ms. Elimona was absent, as was the dwarven professor who’d once taught her Magical Theory. Instead, three figures claimed the space.
-
Master Revan: A lanky elf in azure robes, hair pinned back with crystal pins. By the watery motifs on his sleeves, Ventania guessed he specialized in synergy—particularly advanced manipulations of the classical elements. His unblinking gaze swept the crowd, exuding a serene intensity.
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Mara Gisel: A woman of middling years with high cheekbones and coal-black hair. She wore an illusionsist’s cloak, subtle illusions constantly warping around her form—brief afterimages, faint glimmers—displaying the domain of illusions mastery. She coughed occasionally, seemingly unaccustomed to addressing large groups.
-
Guildcrafter Borsin: A dwarven runesmith, squat and muscular, sporting a thick auburn beard braided with copper rings. His leather apron bore scuff marks and tiny burn scars, hinting at countless forging sessions. A small hammer hung from his belt, crackling faintly with stored mana.
Ventania perked up. She had dabbled in illusions, but not enough to realize its potential beyond basic illusions. She had seems masterful illusions from others, had conjured illusions in synergy merges, but never specialized deeply as she thought of them as distant from her nature. As for runic forging, she’d done only superficial training. The dwarven professor from her past taught runic theory, but Borsin’s presence hinted at practical forging she’d never attempted. Her pulse quickened: maybe I can craft my own circlets, rings, something that resonates with me intimately.
Mara Gisel stepped forward, illusions swirling around her ankles like drifting fog. “Welcome, returning and newly advanced students,” she announced, voice echoing in the hush. “You stand at the threshold of the Academy’s specialized track, a path dividing into three major arcs: Synergy, Illusions, and Runic. Each harnesses a different facet of magical expression.”
Master Revan nodded, stepping in smoothly. “Many of you hold illusions about each domain’s limitations. Some see synergy as purely for combat. Some see illusions as mere trickery. Others dismiss runic forging as a support role with no direct impact. We’re here to dispel such ignorance. You will learn the old ways anew.”
Guildcrafter Borsin let out a hearty chuckle. “We’ll see how many of you have the grit for forging. Mark me: raw synergy is child’s play next to runic enchantment. The materials alone cost dear, and the final success rate can humiliate even the proudest mage. But the rewards, if you succeed, are priceless.”
Ventania sensed a stirring in her chest, an eager hunger for this new knowledge. She had excelled in synergy—the foundation of her unstoppable blasts. But illusions beckoned with complex expansions, and runic forging could let her create the jewelry she loved, forging a bond between vanity and utility. Her eyes flicked to the side, half-expecting Roy to lurk among the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight. Fine. She’d face him soon enough.
Later that day, Ventania found herself in the Synergy Wing’s advanced lab, a wide open courtyard with high stone walls lined by elemental wards. Giant braziers flickered with living flame, water basins shimmered in the corners, earthen pillars jutted from recesses in the floor, and vents in the ceiling allowed swirling breezes. The environment mimicked all four major elements in carefully regulated forms.
Master Revan led the session, hands folded in his azure sleeves. “Today,” he began in a gentle voice, “we refine the synergy that many of you have used purely for combat. Synergy is not a single hammer striking everything in your path—it’s a tapestry of subtle threads that can shape the world around you. The final apex of synergy, some say, is control of light and darkness themselves. A few legendary mages in recorded history have awakened that potential.”
Ventania’s breath caught. Master Revan’s mention of light and darkness reminded her forcibly of Ferlin, the old mentor who had taught her synergy’s deeper secrets in the wild, before turning inexplicably cold at her final exam awarding. Her chest tightened with sorrow. She missed the fatherly warmth he once showed, wondered what drove him to distance himself so sharply. Yet the mention of his apex synergy also fired her with curiosity. Could she ascend to that level? She hardened her resolve.
“To begin,” Master Revan said, “recall your prior synergy merges. Some of you can already combine two elements. The advanced track demands you integrate three or four, layering them seamlessly. Let’s see your baseline.”
He gestured for them to form pairs. Ventania found herself alongside a tall, broad-shouldered orc mage named Gazkarr, known for punishing fiery synergy. She sized him up, offering a polite nod. He looked wary, perhaps recognizing her name. She forced a small smile, hoping to keep things friendly.
“Show me your multi-element synergy,” Revan instructed quietly, stepping aside to watch.
Gazkarr struck first, swirling flame around his fists while summoning a gust of wind to intensify the blaze. The small tornado of fire roared, though it was hasty, not fully stable. Ventania conjured a swirling sphere of water and earth in response, seeking to ground the swirling flames with a muddy barrier. The collision hissed in steam, and both spells sputtered out.
Revan nodded. “A bit raw, but workable. Now, you, Ventania—show me your synergy.”
Heart fluttering, she inhaled slowly. She called upon the wind synergy from her core, letting it swirl around her ankles. Next, she molded a half-dozen small stones from the earthen pillars, giving them shape and weight. She used water to coat them in a shimmering, fluid shell, then ignited a faint inner flame for extra impetus. With a short cry, she launched them as searing projectiles. Each soared across the courtyard in a carefully spaced volley, leaving steaming trails behind.
Gasps rose among the watchers. The synergy merges seemed to come so naturally to her. Master Revan’s gaze shone with interest. “Impressive. You blended four elements in a single motion, albeit briefly. Keep refining that balancing act, focusing on minimal wasted mana. Good.”
She flushed with satisfaction. Indeed, synergy was her domain. She felt momentarily proud, though her mind flicked back to her fight with Eravin, the gold-level water mage who bested her long ago. She still had far to go.
They spent the next hours repeating multi-element merges or adding layers of the same element. Some tried to conjure swirling storms of water and wind, others practiced magma flows bridging fire and earth. Ventania soared beyond most, harnessing synergy with a deftness that set her apart. Yet she also recognized new nuances: how complex elemental layering or runic techniques might bolster synergy, how advanced theory hinted at controlling intangible elements like pure light and shadow. Just the concept stirred her imagination, though she sensed the immense gap between her skill level and that fabled apex.
When the session ended, Master Revan summoned her briefly. “Ventania, your synergy merges are advanced, but synergy is more than orchestrating blast spells. Think broad. Use it to manipulate the environment, shape the elements beyond what they were initially, or even anchor forging processes. Don’t let yourself stagnate in combat usage alone.”
She bowed respectfully. “I… yes, Master Revan. Thank you.” Perhaps the next steps in synergy mastery would let her surpass mere combat reliance.
Yet behind the excitement, a pang of old sorrow: the last time she’d soared academically, Roy sought to sabotage her. She squared her shoulders, reminding herself she was older now.
Two days later, Ventania entered the Hall of Mirrors, a high-ceilinged chamber flanked by arched windows reflecting illusions. She joined a group of initiates and gathered around Mara Gisel, the illusions specialist. At first glance, Mara looked unassuming: hair pinned in a practical bun, wearing a cloak of shifting colors that occasionally glitched in half-seen illusions. But the aura of her spells was mesmerizing.
“Welcome,” Mara greeted, her voice projecting a calm confidence. “Illusions form the intangible threads of perception—shaping not reality itself, but how reality is interpreted. Some illusions barely pass for illusions at all, little illusions of light, ephemeral illusions for illusions’ sake. But advanced illusions can weigh on the real world, creating constructs that can move, strike, or hamper. Summoners take illusions further, forging living illusions with partial autonomy.”
Ventania listened intently, enthralled by possibilities. She recalled how illusions in synergy merges remained ephemeral. She’d never studied illusions in isolation, so perhaps her perspective was incomplete.
Mara demonstrated by conjuring a shimmering lion illusions that pounced across the floor, each paw creating a faint echo of physical force. Some students gasped as the illusions pinned a practice dummy. “When illusions are woven with mana to replicate weight,” Mara explained, “they can approximate partial reality. Summoners build on that principle to create illusions that act semi-independently.”
An older student raised a hand. “But illusions remain illusions, yes? They can be dispelled by synergy or wards.”
Mara nodded. “Certainly. Skilled illusions rely on layering complexity. The best illusions incorporate synergy or runic scaffolding. Indeed, illusions easily undone remain mere illusions. We aim to craft illusions so layered that foes can’t distinguish them from reality.”
Ventania’s mind raced: illusions bridging synergy or runes? She pictured how a watery illusions might behave with actual fluid synergy, or illusions anchored by runic frameworks for permanence. She felt a stir of excitement. Maybe illusions wasn’t just cunning deception. It could reforge the battlefield, shaping into strategic uses and with tangible results.
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Mara separated the group into pairs for practice. Ventania was paired with an older dwarven woman, who introduced herself as Lara Stonepeak. She wore a battered cloak embroidered with hammered metal bits. The pair attempted to conjure illusions of small beasts—Ventania shaping illusions of swift canines infused with airy synergy to move quickly.
At first, her illusions lacked weight, phasing through the environment. But under Mara’s instructions, she carefully layered more effects behind the illusions, anchoring them with subtle arcs of elemental energy. The illusions of canines took on partial solidity, leaving faint footprints on the floor.
A gasp of delight escaped Ventania as she watched her illusions circle the dais. “They’re almost real!” she exclaimed, heart pounding with triumph.
Mara offered a measured nod of approval. “Good, you are learning. Keep refining. Illusions can do more than distract. They can shield, strike, or misdirect if anchored well. Perhaps you might build illusions that combine synergy blasts mid-battle.”
Though Ventania’s learn of illusions trailed far behind her synergy prowess, she found fresh motivation. The ghostly images she conjured revealed potential paths to outmaneuver illusions-based foes. Maybe even Roy’s illusions would no longer confound her. She clenched her fists, forging a silent vow to push illusions until no trick could overshadow her.
Weeks passed in a whirl of synergy expansions and illusions training. But Ventania’s true curiosity flared hottest when she joined Guildcrafter Borsin’s runic forging class. She arrived at the forging courtyard—an area reminiscent of a blacksmith’s workshop but teeming with magical apparatus. The air smelled of molten metal, arcane chemicals, and faint sulfur.
Around her, half a dozen other advanced initiates prepared forging stands or rummaged through barrels of rare materials. Borsin stood near a blazing forge, arms folded over his apron. A practiced calm radiated from him, as if no forging challenge could ruffle him.
“Runic forging, iniciates,” he declared, “may appear dull next to flashy illusions or synergy storms. But mark me: forging shapes artifacts that can outlive any ephemeral incantation. Real might is forging a ring that channels synergy automatically, or an amulet that deflects illusions. The cost, however, is dear. The path? Fraught with failures.”
Ventania inhaled the pungent air, remembering the times she thirsted for a ring or an amulet. Perhaps forging them herself was the solution. She pictured forging a ring that harmonized with her synergy blasts, or an amulet that prevented mind attacks from illusions. The idea thrilled her.
Borsin directed them to set up at small anvil stations. Each received a packet: a strip of purified steel, a pinch of arcane dust, and a blank runic diagram. “Follow the instructions to craft a minor ring of stamina,” he said. “Don’t expect success on your first try.”
Ventania studied the step-by-step guide: hammer the strip into a ring under carefully timed synergy. Submerge it in a solution of water and arcane dust. Carve the runic lines with the forging stylus, then finalize with a small synergy pulse. The process seemed straightforward enough, but as soon as she hammered the softened steel, it started warping unpredictably. She fumbled, nearly burning her gloves. In frustration, she tried surging synergy to shape the ring more quickly, but that overheated the metal.
Frowning, she doused the ring in water, hearing a hissing protest. The steel took on a warped oval shape. Borsin ambled over, eyebrows raised. “Too impatient with synergy?”
Ventania exhaled. “I thought a little extra synergy might help. Sorry.”
“Patience,” the dwarf insisted, tapping the ring with his hammer. “This craft demands subtlety. Force is your enemy. Let synergy coax the shape, not slam it.”
She tried again, more carefully. The forging stylus etched runes into the ring’s inner curve, each line demanding a steady hand. She added a droplet of arcane dust, hoping to anchor synergy. The final step: a short synergy pulse. She released a gentle swirl of wind and earth synergy, watching with tension as the ring glowed. Suddenly, a faint crack splintered across the metal. The ring’s glow guttered, leaving a worthless piece of metal.
She bit her lip. “Failed.”
Borsin offered a stoic nod. “Common for novices. Materials aren’t cheap, though. Next time, pay closer attention to heat distribution.”
Ventania’s heart sank: she already saw how expensive these forging materials were. The academy provided a few trial sets, but once those were gone, she’d have to buy her own—at an exorbitant cost. Meanwhile, success was far from guaranteed. She realized forging an artifact-level ring or circlet would require repeated attempts, risking hundreds or thousands of gold. One needed a near-obsessive drive or deep pockets. She recalled the circlet on her own head from a past quest, likely worth a fortune if sold. The forging knowledge behind it must have been extraordinary.
A bitter frustration mingled with renewed resolve. If forging was that daunting, it also meant the rare artifacts she coveted were even more precious. She pictured the day she’d hold a self-forged amulet humming with synergy. Dreams of forging items specifically tuned to her elemental merges fueled her. She’d endure failures. She had spent coin more frivolously before. If anything, she might funnel her future earnings into forging attempts.
That night, after a fruitless forging session—three attempts, three failures—Ventania wandered the quieter halls near the library. Her mind churned with thoughts of synergy expansions, illusions layering, runic forging. One memory overshadowed them all: Ferlin, once her fatherly mentor who had taught her synergy in the forest. She remembered him bridging elemental merges with practiced grace she’d never seen rivaled.
She paused at a wide window, gazing into the star-strewn sky. “Ferlin… you once commanded synergy with such ease, even illusions and runes bent around your will. Why did you turn so cold?”
Her last meeting with him—bland formalities, a far cry from the warm guidance that shaped her earlier exploits—haunted her. The synergy teacher Revan’s mention of controlling light and darkness reminded her of rumors that Ferlin had achieved that pinnacle of synergy. If she progressed far enough, might she glean the secrets he possessed? Perhaps surpass him?
Yet sadness still tugged at her. She missed that paternal guiding presence, especially now, navigating new teachers, new intrigues. She inhaled a shuddering breath, letting determination well up. “If you won’t guide me, I’ll find my own way. I’m not that lonely novice anymore, needing constant reassurance.”
She let her gaze linger on the night sky. In her heart, the memory of the Doombroks’ unwavering camaraderie reminded her she had people caring for her, even if not physically present. The ache receded, replaced by a calm readiness to face the challenges ahead.
Her second week’s routine settled: synergy merges in the mornings, illusions classes midday, forging attempts late afternoon. The Academy’s demands left her physically spent and short on gold from forging attempts. But Ventania soldiered on, buoyed by the knowledge she was on the cusp of advancing in each field.
Roy’s presence emerged gradually, like a creeping shadow in her peripheral vision. She glimpsed him drifting across corridors, illusions swirling about his slender form. Occasional rumors reached her ears: how Roy boasted of illusions so intricate they defied synergy detection, how he swayed certain teachers to admire his political cunning, how novices flocked to him for tips.
At first, Ventania ignored the gossip. She had no desire to re-engage in petty rivalry. But then small annoyances began. A forging apparatus she’d reserved turned up half-broken, “mysteriously.” The illusions reference texts she needed from the library vanished from the shelves. A synergy-laced staff she left in a practice room had its wards tampered with, requiring hours to fix.
She recognized Roy’s cunning fingerprints. He never confronted her outright. He used petty sabotage to hamper her progress, trying to force a reaction. But Ventania refused to bite.
When illusions-laced scrawls appeared on her dorm door—“Storm upstart” in swirling letters—she simply dispelled them with minimal synergy and didn’t mention it to staff. She found a runic forging kit replaced with defective metals; she calmly returned them for fresh materials, ignoring the snickering novices lurking nearby. Let Roy scowl at her immunity.
One day, as she left illusions class, Roy appeared in the hall, arms folded, a lazy smirk curling his lips. “Still playing with forging?” he drawled. “I heard your success rate is… abysmal.”
Ventania paused. She felt a faint flicker of annoyance, but shrugged. “I prefer a challenge. I’m sure illusions remain your safer domain.”
He bristled, illusions swirling faintly around his cloak. “You’ll find illusions can be just as formidable. Some illusions might hamper your forging even further if you keep ignoring courtesy.”
She steadied her staff. “Do as you will. I have bigger aims.” Then she brushed past him, noticing how illusions flickered around his hands. A part of her yearned to confront him, to show she was no longer the novice he once manipulated. But she stilled that impulse. The time for duels would come eventually, on official grounds.
Roy’s low chuckle followed her. “Don’t disappoint me, brat.”
She exhaled, shoulders tense. Petty attempts aside, Roy no longer frightened her. She had real battles, real friends, real power. His illusions were a nuisance, not a threat.
Weeks later, synergy evaluations loomed. The Academy scheduled a series of friendly matches in the Combat Arena—a massive colosseum ring with wards that prevented lethal harm. Students at the Initiate level or above would spar with synergy specialists, honing practical skill. The prospect excited Ventania: a chance to measure how much she’d grown.
The morning of the scheduled matches arrived crisp and bright. Ventania donned her advanced synergy robes: deep midnight blue fabric, silver piping along the edges, each sleeve embroidered with stylized elemental glyphs. She pinned her hair in a practical partial updo, weaving a few shimmering silver threads for both style and minor wards. The familiar weight of her staff in hand steadied her nerves.
She navigated the thronged corridors leading to the stands. Shouts echoed from the arena as novices practiced illusions or synergy blasts, each attempt greeted by applause or critique from staff. She glimpsed Ms. Kendall in the stands, smiling encouragingly. She glimpsed Master Revan near the dais. She inhaled. This was a friendly spar, not a do-or-die mission. She could handle it.
“Ventania,” a crisp voice called from an official, checking a roster. “You’re up next. Your opponent: Journeyman mage Aldrind. Fire synergy specialized.”
A Journeyman rank meant he was an older student or a recently minted alumnus with partial real-world experience. She nodded, stepping forward. So it wouldn’t be Roy or an illusions specialist out to sabotage her. Good, she thought wryly.
She emerged into the ring, an open circular space flanked by magical wards shimmering at the edges. The stands rose around them, half full of advanced students and staff watchers. There, across from her, stood Aldrind: a human man in his mid-twenties, sporting a grin that mixed confidence and curiosity. He wore partial leather armor with bright flame motifs and bracers etched with runes. A battered staff at his side suggested he’d faced real threats before.
He inclined his head politely. “Heard about your synergy merges, Ventania. Let’s make this entertaining.”
She returned the nod, staff in both hands, synergy stirring in her chest. “I’ll do my best.” She recalled how two years prior, she had been the uncertain one. Now, she approached the fight with quiet assurance. This time, she was the “experienced one.”
A starting signal rang, and Aldrind immediately unleashed a streak of flame from his staff. Ventania pivoted lightly, conjuring a swirl of wind that parted the flames. The watchers let out a small whoop of excitement.
A grin tugged at her lips. “Not bad, but watch your left.” She whipped up a short volley of watery droplets that she superheated with a flick of fire synergy, forming tiny steam bursts near Aldrind’s feet. He jumped back, grimacing at the scalding air.
“Clever,” he muttered, wry humor in his eyes. He retaliated with a fire-laced illusions of swirling embers. Ventania recognized illusions layered onto real flames, forging ephemeral serpentine shapes that darted in unpredictably. She conjured an earthen partial wall from the floor, blocking them as they collided in tiny, sizzling impacts.
She let out a playful laugh. “You’re mixing illusions with synergy?”
He smirked, winded but game. “Got the idea from a friend. Works better in real fights.”
She nodded. “So do synergy merges with illusions, indeed.”
They exchanged half a dozen more casts: his fiery magic hammered her watery synergy, while she calmly combined wind and earth to shape deflective barriers. The watchers murmured approval, clapping at the artistry. Ventania felt a sense of nostalgia for the time she had flailed about in the arena. Now, she maneuvered gracefully, her synergy near inexhaustible from her countless real missions.
Finally, she escalated: forging rotating stone shards around her staff tip, swirling wind to accelerate them, then dousing them in flame for maximum damage. Aldrind braced, summoning a broad lava shield, but her synergy-laced barrage battered it relentlessly. The shield parted, leaving him stumbling and out of breath. He gestured surrender, panting with a laugh.
“Alright, you got me,” he admitted. “I yield.”
She exhaled, letting the synergy fade, heart thrumming with the rush of a good fight. She bowed to Aldrind in respect. The watchers seemed delighted, some novices clapped in excitement. She caught Ms. Kendall’s approving nod from across the way. Even Master Revan wore a subtle smile. Roy was absent, or at least not visible.
Aldrind approached, offering a handshake. “Well fought. You truly are the mage people talk about.”
Ventania grinned back, breath still high. “You’re not bad yourself— illusions synergy combos are tricky. Keep refining them.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I intend to. Thanks for the lesson.”
In that moment, Ventania felt a sense of camaraderie among advanced mages, free of Roy’s manipulative shadows or petty sabotage. This was the spirit of the Academy she had once dreamed of. As she left the ring to cheers, she realized she was forging a new chapter, a vantage from which to explore illusions, synergy merges, runic forging, and perhaps the deeper secrets that might lead her to her parents.
Though the day’s fight was friendly and the tests ongoing, Ventania’s mind soared with renewed motivation. She had glimpsed the synergy expansions that advanced teachers promised, illusions that might shape partial reality, forging that might produce the arcane jewelry she coveted. She had supportive mentors, potential allies, a place to channel her unstoppable synergy for more than mere blasts.
Yes, she thought, letting the ambient hush of the Academy’s halls surround her. I can do this. Roy’s sabotage can’t overshadow me. The forging failures will be stepping stones. My illusions will grow. My synergy might even breach the threshold of light and darkness if I remain steadfast.
And with each step on this path, I edge closer to unraveling the fate of my parents.
I’m not the lonely novice anymore.