No Class Found

A month and a half had passed since Ironha opened the clinic, and somewhere along the way, Doc had fallen into a routine.

Most mornings took him to the Academy. He spent hours in the library, worked his way through whatever introductory texts the librarians were willing to put in front of him, and observed practical lessons whenever he had the opportunity. Afternoons were less predictable. He usually ended up back at the depot, though what he did once he got there depended on what needed doing. Some days he helped Ironha at the clinic. Others he dealt with work around the depot.

The clinic no longer had lines stretching out the door like it had on its first day, but it stayed busy.

People in the outer district knew where to find Ironha now.

Ren had settled into the front desk better than anyone expected. He had his own system now for tracking patients, payments, return visits, and supplies that were beginning to run low. Ironha mostly left him to it.

Maris had progressed in a different direction. She had learned how to operate the bio-scanner without Doc or Ironha helping her and had begun learning the basics of patient care under Ironha’s guidance whenever the clinic slowed down. She was still far from treating anyone on her own, but Ironha had started letting her assist with simpler examinations and treatments.

The rest of the depot had settled into its own rhythm as well.

Rald now oversaw the Glasshold crew, handling repairs, maintenance, and whatever new work came up around the depot and neighboring building.

Trade wagons moved between the settlements regularly now, carrying supplies north and returning with whatever Marron decided could be sold.

Mazoga was rarely around for long.

She had taken exactly the kind of work she said she would. Most of it was monster-clearing contracts or escort work along the northern roads. When a dungeon run came up, she took those too. Sometimes she disappeared for several days before returning covered in mud, blood, or something Doc generally decided not to ask about.

Calen had been quieter about his own plans.

A few weeks earlier, he had finally posted a request at the Adventurers’ Guild for someone to escort his siblings from Novice Peak to Glasshold. Edda and Marron had both offered to cover the cost, but Calen refused. He had been earning coin helping around the depot and wanted to pay for it himself.

Someone had accepted the contract a few days ago.

If everything went well, Calen wouldn’t have much longer to wait.

Glasshold itself had changed too.

More wagons had begun appearing outside the walls.

At first Doc thought they were merchants waiting for inspection, but many carried everything their passengers owned. Bedding, cooking pots, and bundled clothing filled the wagons. Children sat between crates while their parents spoke with guards near the gates.

Over the past few weeks, the number had steadily grown. Lux had tracked the increase as well.

Whatever was happening farther north, more people were making their way toward Glasshold.

Doc stood beneath the covered walkway overlooking one of the Academy courtyards.

Fish lay beside his boots, chin resting on her paws while a dozen students practiced below.

The lesson had caught his attention on the way back from the library.

A magister stood at the front of the courtyard with one hand raised. A small flame hovered above his palm.

"Control first,” the magister said. “Size comes later. If you can’t maintain it at this size, making it larger just wastes mana.””

The students raised their hands.

Mana shifted through the courtyard.

Doc could feel it now.

Mana gathered below him in a dozen separate draws, some smooth and controlled, others uneven. Lux layered additional detail across his vision, tracing the movement around each student.

The first flame appeared.

Then another.

One student produced something closer to a torch than a candle.

The magister immediately walked toward him.

“Smaller.”

The boy frowned at the flame.

“I am trying.”

“No. You are feeding it less mana and hoping that makes it smaller. Shape it.”

Doc’s attention sharpened.

The boy reduced the flow.

The flame weakened, but its shape barely changed.

Then he tried again.

This time the mana shifted differently.

The flame contracted slightly, but the difference was clear.

The magister moved on without another word.

Doc remained where he was.

A few months ago, most of what happened below would have looked like people raising their hands and producing fire.

Now he could follow enough of it to see when a student lost control and when the Class seemed to handle something for them.

That last part interested him most.

The next student raised her hand, and mana gathered around her.

Doc watched.

Her draw was smoother than the boy's had been. The mana collected around her palm, tightened, and changed almost all at once. A small, steady flame appeared.

The girl barely seemed to think about it.

Lux marked the shift across Doc's vision, replaying the moment at a slower rate.

There.

The mana had not simply become fire. Something had happened between the gathering and the result. A brief change in the way it held together before the flame appeared.

Doc frowned.

Again.

Lux replayed it.

The same transition.

Doc looked toward the other students.

A second girl produced her flame, but her mana wavered before settling into shape.

The magister stopped beside her. “Hold it.”

The girl clenched her jaw. Her flame flickered.

“You’re losing the shape,” the magister said. “Don’t chase the flame. Hold the mana steady.”

The girl took a slow breath. The movement of mana around her hand changed, and the flame steadied.

Doc stayed at the railing long after he had originally intended.

The class continued, with mixed results. One boy produced three tiny flames over his fingers and earned an immediate correction for practicing something other than the assigned exercise.

Fish eventually stood, stretched, and looked up at him.

"I know."

She continued looking at him.

“Five more minutes.”

Fish sat back down.

Doc kept watching.

By the time the magister began dismissing the students, Lux spoke.

Approximately twenty minutes have passed since your five-minute estimate.

Doc ignored that.

As the students lowered their hands, the magister raised his voice one last time.

“Stop thinking about the fire. The fire is the result. Control what produces it.”

Doc straightened.

That was worth remembering.

The students gathered their things and filtered toward the surrounding halls. The magister remained behind, speaking with two who had struggled through most of the exercise.

Doc finally moved away from the railing.

Fish was already standing.

"Alright. Let's go."

He headed back toward the western hall.

You intend to attempt the same exercise.

"Not the fire."

The underlying shaping process.

"Exactly."

Lux remained silent for a moment.

Current data remains incomplete.

"When has that stopped us?"

It has frequently failed to stop us.

Doc smiled.

By the time Doc returned to the depot, the afternoon had begun to fade.

The yard was quieter than usual. One wagon sat near the rear gate with half its cargo already unloaded, while two workers carried sacks into the storage building. Voices drifted from the living quarters next door.

Doc crossed behind the depot with Fish following close.

Near the far wall was a section of packed ground he had been using for practice.

Doc stopped several feet from the wall and rolled his shoulders.

“Same parameters as yesterday.”

Confirmed.

He raised his prosthetic hand.

Mana moved through the space around him, easier to pick out now than it had been a few months ago. He could feel it across the yard, even through the stone and timber around him.

Mana moved through the arm. The violet-blue filaments beneath the plating brightened faintly as the flow reached his palm.

A small amount gathered above it.

For the past several weeks, Doc had been trying to turn that mana directly into ice. It worked, but the results were rarely what he wanted.

The lesson at the Academy had given him another way to look at the problem.

He kept the mana in place and let the shape form first.

A narrow point appeared above his palm.

The structure held for a moment before one side began to widen. The flow through his arm shifted immediately, correcting the imbalance before it could spread.

Doc waited until the shape steadied.

Then the mana changed.

Ice formed where the mana had been.

The small shard dropped into his palm.

Doc turned it between two fingers.

One side was thicker than the other, and the point leaned slightly to the left.

"Better."

Geometric deviation remains significant.

"I said better. Not perfect."

The distinction is noted.

Doc tossed the shard onto the packed dirt.

Fish lifted her head as it landed nearby.

Doc raised his hand again.

This time he kept the Academy lesson in mind.

The ice wasn't what mattered yet.

He gathered the mana above his palm and concentrated on holding the shape he wanted. A thin line formed. He extended it slowly, keeping the width as even as he could.

The center started to thicken.

The flow adjusted through his arm, and the distortion eased.

Once the line held, Doc let the mana convert.

A second crystal formed and dropped into his hand.

Straighter this time.

He held it up.

"That's more like it."

Dimensional variance reduced by fourteen percent.

Doc looked at the first shard lying in the dirt, then back at the one in his hand.

"I'll take fourteen percent."

He tossed the second shard beside the first and raised his hand again.

A straight line was one thing.

Doc wanted something harder.

He pictured the shape before beginning.

Mana gathered above his palm and spread outward from a central point.

Six branches.

The first two formed easily enough. The next pair took more control to keep even with the others.

The fifth started too thick.

It narrowed almost immediately.

By the time the sixth extended outward, the entire structure had begun to wobble.

Doc held it together.

For several seconds, a rough six-pointed pattern hovered above his palm.

Then he let the mana change.

The crystal formed all at once.

Doc caught it before it fell.

It resembled a snowflake, though only from a generous distance. Two branches were shorter than the others, and the center had formed far thicker than he intended.

He turned it slowly between his fingers.

Structural symmetry: sixty-eight percent.

"That's terrible."

It is a substantial improvement over your earlier attempts.

"Still terrible."

Correct.

Doc laughed.

This one he didn't throw away.

He set the crooked little crystal on the stone ledge beside him and raised his hand again.

"Again."

By the time Ironha came looking for him, the light had nearly gone.

She found Doc in the same spot behind the depot.

Fish was asleep near the wall.

The stone ledge beside Doc was no longer holding a single crooked crystal. More than a dozen rested there now, ranging from simple shards to increasingly recognizable six-pointed shapes. A few had already begun melting into small wet patches on the stone.

Ironha stopped beside him and looked them over.

“You've been busy.”

Doc held up the one in his hand.

This attempt was cleaner than the others. The branches were still uneven, but at least none of them bent in completely different directions.

“Getting there.”

Ironha picked up one of the earlier crystals between two fingers.

“What are you trying to make?”

“A snowflake.”

She looked at the crooked thing in her hand.

Doc sighed. “Eventually.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Bran says dinner is ready.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ironha looked at the crystals lined across the ledge, then at the mana already beginning to gather above Doc’s palm.

“No.”

Doc glanced at her.

“No?”

“You’ll still be here when the food goes cold.”

Doc opened his mouth.

Ironha raised an eyebrow.

He let the mana disperse.

“Fine.”

Her smile widened.

“Come eat.”

She started toward the depot.

Fish was already on her feet.

Doc followed Ironha inside.

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