64th of Season of Air, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
“Stupid kid, you were practicing tracing without supervision.” Lady Alabaster said the instant Newt regained consciousness. She knew her ward was awake even before he opened his eyes. “You were in an induced coma for a day and a half. You fried your heart, your lung, and boiled a good chunk of your right arm from the inside.”
Still dizzy, Newt thought the words were flat, emotionless, but as his senses recovered, he noticed a dagger-sharp undertone.
“I’m sor—”
“You’re sorry your ass. I gave you simple instructions - anything new or potentially life-threatening, you will practice around the northern training field or within its bounds. El is a friend — he will take extra care of you. But no, what do you do? Go into a soundproof room, into an isolated space where nobody will check whether you’re alive for hours, and burn off your heart! You idiot!”
“Stop shouting, Al,” a flat male voice muttered, “you’re in the Chamber of Healing. And could you stop talking about like I’m not in the room?”
“He’s lucky I can only shout at him,” Lady Alabaster hissed, but contained her voice. “I want to beat him half-dead with a stick, but he’s already half-dead. Do you know that any more damage to your heart, and you would’ve passed away in that soundproof room? You would have bled to death long before the attendant found you.”
Newt’s skin crawled at that, his breathing growing shallower.
“Oh, look, now he’s scared,” Lady Alabaster growled, shoving a pair of pinching fingers in front of Newt’s eyes. “This close! You were this close to dying, you dumb child!”
“Al, mind your volu.”
Newt could hear the two bicker, but their words went over his head.
I almost died? Just like that? But it was just a simple test, sending a surge of energy through my body. It wasn’t even that strong.
“Master, what happened?”
“What happened is you almost killed yourself, busted out of a private chamber, called for help, then bled on the floor until a sixth realm healer ca and patched you up. You owe the order a bunch of contribution points for the dicine, around two hundred fourth realm manarium crystals worth of dicine to be more exact.”
Two hundred fourth realm crystals? Newt’s still-healing heart skipped a beat. Again, life smacked him with ungodly amounts of debt.
“Listen to and listen good.” Lady Alabaster stabbed Newt’s chest with a finger as hard as diamonds. “You will never, NEVER, experint with your mindcore. I don’t dare do that; my master doesn’t dare do that! Never ever release energy from it unless you absolutely, positively understand all aspects of what you are doing, and even then a senior healer must be present the first ti you are using a spell. If you had fried your brain like you did your heart and lung, you would have died on the spot. Even light damage to the brain can do funny things to a person. They might beco a driveling madman, a plant drooling in so corner, or the damage might shift their mind into a demonic path.”
“Your master isn’t joking about this, Newstar,” Lord El said, his flowing words smoothing Lady Alabaster’s rocky jaggedness. “We have a healer in the order who could potentially save you from such damage, but even she has to act imdiately to stop your personality from warping. The theory of soul anchoring and mind preservation is still beyond , and will remain that way for a very long ti. Your realm is a construct of mana, controlled by your mind and soul. If your soul loses its anchor, strange things may happen, and heart demons may flood your mind.”
Lord Elmshade’s voice turned softer still.
“Have you learned anything from this, Newstar?”
Newt considered all the thoughts that went through his mind before he half-cooked himself.
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“Tracing has sothing to do with why I can’t see the mana inside your bodies, unless you are releasing it through spells and techniques. It allows for finer control than working spells with raw mana, and it increases the speed with which the spells are unleashed while decreasing—”
“Stupid kid,” Lady Alabaster interrupted. “El is talking about nearly burning yourself to death. A couple days ago, you ntioned harmless techniques. There is no such thing as harmless when manipulating mana. Death lurks behind every corner, and now you’re aware of that. You ca this close,” Lady Alabaster once more gestured with her fingers, showing how close Newt ca to dying, “to being an example we give our wards when warning against being careless. This close.”
The woman stopped talking and folded her arms, glaring at Newt.
“It won’t happen again, Master.” The words weren’t empty; Newt ant them. If saving a bit of ti or indulging in idle curiosity could get him killed, he wouldn’t do it.
“I will write down any ideas I have and test them in a safe environnt.”
Lady Alabaster glared at Newt for several long monts before nodding very slowly. The subtle undertone of fear in his voice mollified her to an extent.
“Good. You can’t train for at least a week, and the healers want to keep you here to monitor your condition. I suggest you spend your ti sculpting your realm.” She went over to the door and opened it. “I’ll introduce you to your brother and sisters now.”
Four people entered the room; three of them at the fourth realm and one at the third.
“This is your first sister, Greenbow.” A woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties acknowledged Newt with a nod. She smiled an awkward smile, her eyes a mix of pity and disbelief.
Newt eyed the rest, and they all held that gaze, which seed to say, ‘I can’t believe you’re that stupid, but at least you survived.’
I guess I deserve that.
Greenbow had brown hair and a stocky figure; her thick arms looked like she could rip the tail off a thundertitan.
“Greetings, first sister.”
“Hello,” Greenbow said, her voice mild and pleasant, but she only got to say that one word before Lady Alabaster spoke again.
“This is your third brother, Sharprock.” Sharprock smiled more earnestly than his senior sister. The man was short and slim, his figure resembling Lord Flaax’s, but his black hair flowed down his back, and his face was free of facial hair.
“Greetings, third brother.” Newt kept the confusion out of his voice, guessing the second brother or sister was busy.
“Wish we’d t under better circumstances.” Sharprock flashed a pearly-white grin before Lady Alabaster moved on to the next ward.
“This is Eraldstreak, your fourth sister.” Eraldstreak kept her face neutral as she inclined her head slightly. She had the densest aura out of all the wards, and she was rely the fourth sister, aning she was probably the most talented. She was tall, well built, and her yellow-and-green uniform complented her golden hair.
“Greetings, fourth sister.”
“Greetings.” Eraldstreak’s voice was emotionless and disinterested. Lady Alabaster didn’t seem to interrupt her before moving on to the final person in the room.
“And this is your sixth sister, Goodair.”
“Greetings, sixth sister.”
“Hello, reckless little brother. It’s good to no longer be the youngest sibling, so could you please try not to kill yourself? Pleeease?” Goodair was slim and tall. She had fluffy dark hair sticking in every direction, making her head look like a giant puffball two feet in diater.
Just as Newt was trying to co up with an answer, Greenbow spoke.
“Don’t mind Goodair. She’s an honorary airhead, born to a long line of air mages.”
“Hey!” Goodair tried to protest, but Greenbow kept talking.
“She doesn’t an anything bad. We’re all here to help each other, and if you need anything, just shout. , third, and fourth are elite students, while little sixth is an inner student, just like you.” She paused, pressing her lips into a thin line, hesitating whether to speak.
“Don’t do anything reckless. We lost second on a mission a century ago, and fifth disappeared on a mission three years ago.” The woman spoke with a motherly tone, heavy with worry, but Newt focused on one thing.
The second brother or sister died a century ago. How old does that make Greenbow?
Greenbow stared at Newt, expecting sothing.
“Thank you for the advice and care, senior sister.” Newt bowed slightly. “I will take it to heart.”
“Just call First, or Greenbow,” she smiled. “Whatever you need, feel free to tell us. We’ll do what we can to help you. I live in the elite house number seventeen, feel free to drop by when the healers release you.”
“I live in the house twenty-seven.” Sharprock chid in, and Eraldstreak remained silent until Sharprock elbowed her.
“House four.”
“I live on the fourth floor, room four-o-four. If you need anything, feel free to ask.”
Newt considered Goodair’s proposal and decided to take her up on it imdiately.
“I’m from room five-o-three, could you tell my roommate I’m here, and that he should visit when he has the ti?”
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