Tufted with scraggly grass and wind-battered shrubs, the hill rose like a bump on the landscape’s forehead. Fabrisse had nad it Reflection Knoll years ago, back when he was ten and decided all significant hills needed nas. The na never caught on with anyone else, mostly because the townsfolk of Itakonra Hollow didn’t think a hill with three trees and one ancient mailbox deserved the word ‘knoll’ in it.
The shrine light shone below like fireflies bottled in glass. From this distance, the lanterns made the whole valley seem touched by sothing sacred, or at least municipally funded. Fabrisse picked his way up the slope with his breath misting in the night air and his pockets clinking with every other step. Behind him, Dubbie trudged in silence, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders.
When they finally reached the crest, he spun in a deford circle and muttered, “Perfect. Elental things definitely happen on hills.”
She sighed, took a seat on a smooth-ish patch of earth, and rubbed at her eyes. “Alright then, great wizard of the knoll. What now?”
“I start gathering,” he said confidently, then imdiately picked a wildflower, pinched its stem, and held it up to the sky. “One elent done. I have collected the Totem of the Great Wood.”
[Item does not qualify for elental trace.]
What? He thought.
The System’s polite denial floated in his vision.
“Should’ve been Wood,” he muttered, confused.
Dubbie raised an eyebrow. “It’s a petal. That’s not Wood. It’s flower.”
“It’s vascular plant matter,” Fabrisse held it up so Dubbie could see, despite her seeing completely fine. “That’s the working definition of Wood under the Twelvefold Fla. Subtypes include root, stem, petal, and leaf. Wood’s about growth, not bark.”
He stared at the error ssage again.
[Item does not qualify for elental trace.]
“Unless . . .” His brow furrowed. “This isn’t using Twelvefold Fla classifications, is it? Different schema. Great. What even counts as a ‘natural elent’ then?”
“Well, you’re the one hallucinating apparitions,” Dubbie said.
Fabrisse ignored her. “It’s not based on applied symbolism, so it’s fundantalist.” He suddenly rembered the primary elents shown to him while he was looking at his Spiritual Alignnt. “Like pre-Order schema. Fire, Earth, Water, Air . . . and sothing abstract. Aether? Or is it Spirit?” The primary elents would make sense; even in Thaumaturgy theory, students would learn to master Fire, Water, and Air first before branching out to other elents. To register for a Veil Thaumaturgy unit, for example, one must finish Air Thaumaturgy I and II as prerequisites. Earth was an elective only because of how inert that elent was, but it should still be considered a primary elent.
The fifth elent in the apparition had been marked with ‘???’. Fabrisse didn’t understand why the glyph felt a need to hide the fifth elent if it had already shown him the first four.
“If it’s stone, you should have one elent already. It’s probably Earth.”
“One way to find out,” he took out a Stupenstone and held it in his hand. That was the first requirent as per the glyph quest.
[TRACE ELENT DETECTED: Earth]
— Earth: Registered (1/5 elents held)
— Begin resonance period: Awaiting Aetheric Impression.
“It did register as Earth,” he said. Dubbie shrugged.
Now he just needed to perform Thaumaturgic Stonecraft, a legitimate ritual channeling thod from the Second Ordinance of Mineral Invocation. You align with the mineral lattice, synchronize your breath to the stone’s heat retention curve, and let the bedrock speak.
Too bad Stone Thaumaturgy was rubbish. He’d be lucky if his Stupenstone got slightly heavier.
He inhaled, centered himself, and whispered a breath into the stone’s grain.
He followed every prescribed step with textbook precision. He fixed his posture, breathed in, breathed out, and chanted the rhythm at exactly one intonation per breath cycle. A perfect harmonic resonance model, just as diagramd in the Synod’s Fundantals of Earth Channeling.
Nothing happened.
Fabrisse frowned. He ran over the steps in his head again. Everything had been aligned. Maybe the chanting speed? He recalibrated, adjusted the pace slightly faster—no, slightly slower—and tried again.
Wait. Was he supposed to match the heat pattern to the stone, or do the opposite?
The stone sat inert in his palm, a mute lump of disappointnt.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to think. Theory wasn’t enough. This wasn’t just recitation; it was supposed to be communion. The lattice didn’t move because it had been instructed—it moved because it had been heard.
Mnemonic is fine; speed is fine. Then the problem must be in the intent.
He steadied his breath once more.
Sa pace. Sa chant.
This ti, he leaned in, whispering just the first line of the proper alignnt script and focusing all his effort into syncing with the stone’s utterly unimpressed thermal signature.
Let the bedrock speak.
Then he felt sothing.
Fabrisse widened his eyes. The stone did feel a bit heavier.
[AETHERIC RESONANCE REGISTERED SUCCESSFULLY: Rank I Spell]
— Resonance Agent: Neural pulse ∆37ms during incantation breath phase
— Aetheric Reaction Equation Resolved
54% Stable Emotion (Stable) 29% Spellcasting Technique 14% Pacing Synchronization 3% “Let the bedrock speak” → Burden of Stones (Earth)
— Reaction Type:Solid-State Compression via Intent Coupling
— Result: Mass-to-energy inertia shift detected. Local gravity field altered by 0.04%.
— Imprint Detected:Low-tier lattice acknowledgnt; partial mineral echo.
Rank I. The lowest possible recognition of magical output. The participation trophy of spellcasting. But it was progress.
“But . . . hold on.” He squinted at the notification.
What is an Aetheric Reaction Equation?
Dubbie was about to say sothing, but stopped after Fabrisse made a face that definitely looked like he was deeply focused in sothing else.
[SYSTEM NOTE: Aetheric Reaction Equation — Prir Level Access Granted]
Query: What is an Aetheric Reaction Equation?
[PRE-SAVED RESPONSE DETECTED]
Every emotional state emits a unique Information Unit—a subtle, intention-rich quantum-pulse readable by the Aetheric Field. When combined with a physical dium (such as a mineral, fla, vapor, or liquid), this emotional signature can initiate a reaction, converting pure Aether into matter-adjacent effects.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
In short:
Emotion (catalyst) Technique/Magical Item (dium) Synchronization (timing) Intent (mnemonic/thought) → Aetheric Reaction (energy-to-manifest output)
So skills might not need all four components. These reactions are stored and registered as Aetheric Impressions. The stronger the emotional precision, the cleaner the result.
Spoiler
[SYSTEM NOTE]: Most human spellcasters succeed not through power, but emotional clarity. If your feelings are vague or misaligned, your spells will reflect that.
[ADDITIONAL NOTE: In most cases, a reaction can stabilize at ≥75% accuracy, so long as the core emotional and material components are intact. However, higher accuracy ensures stronger manifestations, longer durations, and fewer side effects.]
The text was too thick. It was like trying to read three books at once while soone whispered equations in your ear. It took him another minute to focus and another on top of that to go through the texts.
Wait. So . . . spellforms have been . . . reactions all this ti?
[Yes.]
He stared at the stone still resting in his palm. Its faint warmth hadn’t been conjured by willpower alone—it had reacted to sothing asurable and reproducible. For Burden of Stones, for example, the mnemonic only contributed to 3% of the end product. He might as well not need it at all. Synchronization also had minimal contribution, which ant he could ss up the timing of his spell-casting sowhat and still yield good results.
He suddenly thought of every theory text the Synod made them morize. Entire volus of rhetorical Thaumaturgy, deeply abstract fraworks on ‘sympathetic resonance’ and ‘archetypal form modeling.’ None of them had ever called it a reaction. They never talked about inputs. Not like this.
“Alchemy was right, Dubbs,” he whispered.
“Did the glyph tell you sothing?” Dubbie, who was sitting nearby, chewing on a twig she’d picked up out of boredom, cocked her head.
“Input plus transformation equals output. That seems to be the gist of spellcasting.”
Alchemy—the cranky step-cousin of formalized magic—had always said: equal parts lead and intent yield gold in aning.
Thaumaturgy had said: believe harder. Also, complete the four basic parts of the equation, but using vibes. So Thaumaturgy was wrong! Take that, Headmaster Draeth!
Fabrisse tried to catalogue each component ntally, already thinking of how to create a table. If he could weight each variable, maybe even track emotional consistency across multiple casts, he could optimize not just individual spells but entire fields of reaction theory. Finally—finally—sothing that could be quantified.
But it was not that easy.
He had spent years learning Thaumaturgy. Suddenly acquainting himself with an entirely alien frawork—one based more on emotion and micro-interactions than ritual precision—felt like changing languages mid-sentence. Sure, he understood the terms, but not the rhythm. And certainly not the grammar.
Later, once his brain stopped screaming, he could use those numbers to adjust his casting: double down on what mattered most, cut out what was dispensable. The mnemonic, for example—only 3%. That ant Burden of Stones could still be perford without saying the fancy line. Good to know. Eventually.
Right now? He couldn’t deal with it. The text had been too thick, taking up his entire vision like a wall of glowing howork. He’d need to acclimate slowly, one brain cell at a ti.
He slumped a little and glanced up at the hovering glyph.
[TI REMAINING: 1 hour, 19 minutes]
Yeah. Ti was ticking. He didn’t have ti to go through all the texts.
Almost imdiately, the System pulsed a pale acknowledgnt.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Adjusting Resonance Interface to suit Caster Preference Level.]
Aetheric Reaction Equations — Display Status: Disabled
→ Current Mode: Streamlined Thaumaturgic Output Only
→ This can be changed in: Diagnostics > Settings > Display > Aetheric trics > Toggle Detailed Equations
[SYSTEM NOTE: You will continue to benefit from reaction-based casting. Only diagnostic readouts are being simplified.]
“Oh,” Fabrisse muttered. “That’s . . . kind of considerate, actually.”
“Don’t talk to yourself without explaining to . . .” Dubbie said.
The glyph dimd politely, as if bowing out of view.
He stood and hurried over to Dubbie.
“Hold out your hand,” he said.
“Why?”
“I need you to confirm if this got heavier.”
“Compared to what?”
He placed the stone gingerly in her hand. “To this rock a minute earlier.”
She held it for a beat. “. . . You didn’t give it to before you invoked it. Also, how much ti do you have left?”
“Oh! Oh no!”
As if it’d read his mind, the glyph showed him the tir again.
[TI REMAINING: 1 hour, 18 minutes]
He’d spent too much ti walking up the nearby hill and experinting on a rock he’d already had. He needed the other four elents quickly.
Water would be the easiest next. He’d brought a small flask in case there wasn’t a stream nearby, but the valley was kind to fools tonight. A seasonal runoff line whispered behind the shrine path and Fabrisse knelt beside it, uncorked his flask, and dipped it into the stream.
The glyph confird it a second later:
[TRACE ELENTAL DETECTED: Water]
— Water: Registered (2/5 elents held)
— Begin resonance period: Awaiting Aetheric Impression.
Perfect. He adjusted his posture, cradled the flask between his hands, and began channeling the water-breath. It was an older rhythm, passed down from introductory liturgies on liquid-bound flowwork: Ripple, draw, hold. Breathe in. Let flow. Let go.
One of the only Water skills he knew from mory. Water was a tricky one to get right for him, since it just sat still all the ti, like Stone. But at least he was born with a rather decent ability to whisper into stones. When he first got into Foundational classes, they had sat him through ten trials over the first two years to determine if water would rise to his call. It never did, which was normal enough. So elents never responded to certain individuals. So people never learned Air. Most never learned Earth. After the tenth trial, the teachers just moved on, and he never got to enroll in any water-based classes because he would fumble the Practicals anyway. Basically, there had never been a need for him to learn a water spell, since the institution itself had given up on trying to teach him after the Foundational years.
He centered his thoughts, smoothed out his mind, and focused on the elental feel of water, its reflection, its depth. He imagined still lakes, rushing rivers, even that one ti his dorm roof leaked directly onto his notes during finals.
Absolutely nothing happened, like usual. The flask remained cool and silent, unmoved and unimpressed.
For half a second, he thought he saw a formula flashed—percentages, terms like ‘Mont of Surface Tension Collapse’ and ‘Reflective Drift Index’—but it vanished under a pulsing [Streamlined Output Mode Enabled].
[AETHERIC RESONANCE REGISTERED SUCCESSFULLY: Rank I Spell]
Huh? It still registered.
Dubbie peered over. “Did it work?”
“I an,” he said, holding up the flask, “technically, yes? The glyph called it a success.”
“Did it do anything?”
“No. The water just sat there.”
She nodded. “Well. Maybe it’s polite.”
He was sure he did the breath pattern right, and the script was solid. His emotional state was calm and focused. However, he had a total of zero Water spells he had been able to cast. He could intuitively understand where in the rocks to support its structure so it would float, and which part to concentrate aether on to make the stone heavier. But with Water? Every patch of water looked the sa. Even Fire was easier. With Fire, he could feel the thresholds in the air—the tiny, volatile instabilities where heat pooled between layers of pressure and oxygen density. With Air, he could just bend his arms along with the movent of the wind.
How could he know where in the water to transmit his aether? Or maybe it was a timing problem? Or maybe it was both. He didn’t know where to cast his spell. and when to cast it.
He felt an urge to look into the formulaic breakdown of the aetheric reaction to see if he could successfully cast a water spell by getting the timing right, or if the placent of aether was too important to mitigate, but that would an having to ntally navigate the invisible glyph maze again.
Maybe turning it off was a mistake, Fabrisse thought. He didn’t know how to access Settings.
“Did you communicate your mnemonic at the right mont?” Dubbie asked.
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to resonate with the ripple by chanting ‘ripple’ as I just set the flask down and the water’s the most disturbed, then follow up with an anchor phrase at the right tempo. Maybe I got the timing wrong again. You can’t look at a flask and tell this ripple disturbs the water more than the other. They all look equally disturbed.”
“Why is Thaumaturgy so over-complicated? You should’ve just learned Pre-Order Magic.” Dubbie clicked her tongue.
“There’s a reason Thaumaturges are sought-after all across the realms, you know. Their magical output is great.”
It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. Fabrisse just hadn’t practiced enough to land it. But at least, he got an elent he never got to learn out of the way.
He glanced at the sky. The clouds drifted slow and uncaring. Sowhere in the distance, a night-cricket whirred.
“Two down,” he muttered.
[TI REMAINING: 1 hour, 11 minutes]
He shoved the flask into his robe pocket. “Air’s next.”
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