"Everything you gain in this life comes with a price — and magic is no different. Every spell, even for a strong and seasoned germinated, has its cost. That price, however, varies depending on the individual and their type of magic."
The professor raised one finger, then another.
"Some spells demand a price in blood — yours or someone else's. Others extract pain, burning, cutting, or breaking the user's body. And some require something far more intrinsic, like the slow loss of one's sanity or emotions."
He clasped his hands behind his back again, his face stern yet composed.
"But all of them — and I repeat, all — require something. Of course, the severity of that cost depends on how the magic is used. A user of ice magic, for example, might feel their body temperature drop just slightly when summoning a small shard of ice or drastically when creating a hailstorm."
A student near the front raised her hand. The professor nodded in her direction.
"If the consequences scale with the power of the spell, then how can some individuals, like our king, summon colossal flames without facing consequences?"
The professor gave a firm nod.
"A very relevant question. But you're mistaken. His Majesty can indeed conjure flames as large as his castle… but make no mistake — there are consequences."
He turned to the blackboard behind him and began writing with chalk.
"There's something that explains why the consequences for our king — and a few others — seem minimal."
Once he finished writing, he turned back to the class, hands behind his back once more.
"One factor is the use of artifacts that lessen the harmful effects of magic. As some of you may know, there are rare magical items capable of that."
He paused.
"The other, and perhaps more important reason, is magical compatibility. It's a personal parameter that determines how well one's body aligns with their own magic — not just physically, but mentally. His Majesty, for example, has a body that's exceptionally compatible with pyric magic, just like his ancestors and descendants. That's why he can summon flame storms and walk away with just a burn on his arm."
He looked back at the student.
"Does that make sense?"
She nodded.
"Good."
The professor cleared his throat.
"The damage magic causes can, in most cases, be predicted. Its intensity can be tested by the user, as can the type. Over the years, science has uncovered most of the consequences of spellcasting. Pyric spells, for example, usually cause burns. Hydric ones often result in freezing, dampness, or lowered body temperature."
He walked to a small desk near the board, picked up a book, and held it up for the class to see.
"All known magical side effects are listed in your textbooks. Study them — not just because they'll be on your exams, but because this knowledge could mean the difference between life and death. Knowing your own strengths and weaknesses — and those of your enemies and allies — can save your life on the battlefield."
He set the book down and turned to look directly at Tav, his gaze filled with disdain.
"Especially for some of you..."
Tav didn't notice the stare. He was too busy scribbling down notes, completely absorbed in the lesson. Even if he had noticed, he probably wouldn't have cared.
He was excited about the subject. Magic was fascinating. He wished it had been mandatory from his first year.
Unfortunately, when he looked at the stone wall clock to the side of the room, he realized the class was nearly over. That left him a little gloomy — not just because the lesson was ending, but because of what came next... Combat training.
***
"Cheirav, you're with Teidad. Cart, you're with Lindt. Tavish..."
The combat instructor — a strong and beautiful woman with olive skin, dark hair, and fiery brown eyes — looked at Tav with an indifferent expression, as if she didn't care about him or who he'd be paired with.
"You're with Yannick."
Tav's eyes widened in surprise. Normally, he was paired with Talal or Lindt, the worst fighters in class. But today, he'd been matched with Yannick — one of the best. For many, the best.
Most would be flattered to spar with her, as it implied the instructor recognized their potential. But that couldn't be the case for Tav. His strength, speed, and reflexes were all clearly and naturally below hers. Not because of laziness or lack of training — but because Yannick, like the rest of their classmates, had awakened her magic. She was a germinated.
And germinated individuals had physical and mental capabilities far beyond those of an ordinary human like Tav.
Pairing him with the top student was unfair. No — being in this class at all was unfair.
But, as always in his life, Tav had no choice. Complaining would only make things worse — maybe even get him sent to the principal's office.
So, in the end, he just sighed and went looking for his partner. She was off to the side, away from the crowd of students filling the training yard, seated on a bench near the practice dummies. Her legs were crossed, her sword resting beside her, and she was quietly staring up at the sky with a distant, thoughtful expression.
Tav approached, stopping a few steps away, and gave a awkward smile.
"Hey, Yannick. So... huh… looks like we're partners today."
Yannick lowered her cerulean eyes to him, her face unreadable. She stared at him for a moment, assessing, then stood and walked away without saying a word.
Watching her short silver hair sway as she moved, Tav wondered if he was even going to get to practice today. She didn't seem the type to help. But then again, she never seemed interested in doing much of anything. Yannick was quiet, withdrawn — someone who never spoke unless necessary, who always looked like she wanted to be somewhere else.
Still, a moment later, she turned back to Tav and asked, her voice neutral:
"You coming?"
He blinked.
"Uh… yeah."
She turned again, and he followed her.
A few steps later, when Yannick finally stopped, they were well away from where the rest of the class had begun their drills — near the weapons racks. Tav wondered if she was shy or just didn't like crowds.
Then she turned to him and raised her wooden sword. Gripping it with both hands, she dropped into a battle stance, her icy stare fixed on his.
"Ready?"
A shiver ran down Tav's spine. Her gaze, her focus… If they weren't in school, he would've sworn she wanted to kill him.
Bracing for what was to come, he swallowed hard and lifted his own sword, mirroring her stance.
"Ready."
As soon as the last syllable left his mouth, Yannick charged, sword raised. He clenched his teeth.
She reached him in a heartbeat, her blade darting toward his chest. Tav twisted his body just in time to dodge. Sidestepped twice to create distance. But she didn't let up.
A flurry of lightning-fast strikes followed. First, a jab toward his throat, which he deflected. Then, a spinning slash to his ribs, which he blocked. Again and again, she attacked — relentless and precise. For nearly a minute, they traded blows, Tav barely holding on, sweat dripping down his dark hair and pale face.
But the truth was — he shouldn't have been able to hold on at all. Yannick was a germinated — an especially powerful one, as far as Tav knew. She should've broken through his defenses easily.
And that's when he realized what was happening. She was holding back — suppressing her strength — matching her movements to his. She was making it fair.
The realization surprised and moved him. That level of control — to tone down her supernatural power to match a regular boy — was incredible.
But even then, he was barely managing to keep up.
If he didn't act, he'd lose. But this time, Tav didn't want to lose. For the first time since entering Sanctum, someone was treating him fairly — acknowledging his humanity, giving him a real chance to learn.
He wanted to honor that.
Tav gripped his sword tighter, parried her next blow, and lunged for her right shoulder. She dodged with a spin and countered, aiming for his side.
He was ready. It was a obvious move. He blocked and launched a slash toward her neck. She ducked under it and thrust toward his stomach — another obvious move. Tav anticipated it.
But before he could react, Yannick subtly shifted the angle of her attack. The strike curved around his block — close, but not touching. Then, she stepped forward and slammed her shoulder into his chest, sending him sprawling.
He hit the grass hard, pain shooting through his spine and neck. When he opened his eyes, the tip of her sword hovered inches from his face, and those same cold, confident eyes stared down at him.
"It's over."
She lowered her weapon and offered him her hand.
Tav was stunned. Honestly, he'd been stunned for a while now. He hadn't expected her to care about their spar — let alone offer him a hand to help him up.
Still, Tav accepted the gesture kindly and stood.
"Don't believe everything you see. Sometimes, your opponent wants to deceive you."
She let go of his hand.
"Understand?"
Tav blinked.
"Uh… yeah."
It was crystal clear. She had baited him — used predictable reactions to lead him into a trap. She'd manipulated the fight from the start. And Tav had been too impressed, too eager, to see it coming.
Yannick turned and walked off again.
"Let's go again."
She wasn't sweating. Wasn't panting like Tav. It was like she hadn't tried at all. But that was expected — she was Yannick.
Tav, on the other hand, had done what no one expected of him. He had fought back. And he was proud of that. Even if she was holding back. Even if he had fallen straight into her trap.
More than that, he was happy with what he'd seen from Yannick. Consideration. Empathy.
She was the first classmate who hadn't cared about his limitations, or where he came from. The first person from high society who had treated him like any other human being.
Yes, she was a little strange. And yes, her coldness was definitely unsettling. But now, Tav saw her with new eyes, eyes full of hope that maybe — just maybe — his time at Sanctum wouldn't be so bad after all.