Menna hadn't left the academy in two days, nor moved from her spot in the research hall within the last few hours. The room's silence was broken only by the soft scratching of her stylus against the slate.

Stacks of books formed a shallow fortress around her, volumes open to pages she had read and reread a dozen times. From rambling and scattershot scribblings spread across the stone table, her notes had finally begun to coalesce into coherent conclusions.

She scrutinized the patterns she had drawn, tracing the connections over and over, half-expecting them to fall apart. But they didn't.

She picked up two arclith samples—one was a duller, earth-mined fragment. The other was a shard that she had verified had been collected from a surface deposit in the Shattered Shardfield at the caldera's center. Under certain colored arclights, one could discern it emanating a faint glow, especially soon after she had just taken it out in the sunlight.

Both had been kept in a chamber heated directly by geothermal vents over the last two days.

Her fingers lifted the specimens carefully as she turned to the energy gauge beside her. The device was old but still precise—a delicate coil of copper and arclith circuitry, measuring residual energy.

She tested the first shard again, having dubbed it the geo-shard. Its energy levels were stable while it was exposed to volcanic heat.

The second shard, or astro-shard as she called it, told a different story. Its charge had diminished over the same period, despite resting in the same conditions as the geo-shard.

Her quill hovered over a sheet of parchment, where a crude sketch of an arclith shard was framed by a labyrinth of calculations. Her writing had become increasingly frantic, her thoughts racing like waypods in the Deepways, each one a fleeting attempt to articulate the implications of what she'd uncovered.

Could there be two energy sources? Two distinct shard types?

Geo-shards: Volcanic in origin? Energy required for charging - geothermal? magnetic?

Astro-shards. Remnants of crashed meteors? Charged by solar or astral radiation?

She flipped open a record dated over a century ago, scanning the faded script:

"Certain shards found on the surface, particularly near the caldera's heart, exhibit properties dissimilar to their subterranean counterparts. Their luminescence eventually wanes in tunnels underground, but recovers when exposed to the open sky..."

She had read these words before, their significance eluding her until now. The focus on the shards' luminescence or brightness instead of its energy was what had confused her. Did the Deepshy generations ago have different means of measuring a shard's glow or charge?

Her pulse quickened. This was it. She wasn't just proposing a theory anymore. She had both empirical proof and historical basis.

The main question loomed above all else. Why has no one written more about this?

Was it too obvious? Had it slipped beneath notice precisely because it was always in plain sight? If so, someone should have documented the phenomena more thoroughly by now.

Was her thinking flawed? But her experiments, though simple, and even a few throwaway passages written out plainly in ancient textbooks meant for elementary Deepshy students, all pointed to the same conclusions.

Menna sat back, gripping the edges of her slate. She needed to properly document everything before she presented her findings. The masters would demand a comprehensive framework—not just scattered observations.

This could lead to a profoundly different understanding of arclith. It could change things.

Suddenly, a hand crept over one of her open reference books. She jerked, head whipping up to trace hand to head.

Master Lethar stood beside her table, his expression unreadable. His free hand resting lightly atop his cane.

"You've been diligent," he remarked, in a tone that wavered between praise or a warning

Menna suppressed the urge to immediately launch into a defense of her research. Instead, she nodded, quickly gathering her scattered notes. How long had he been observing her?

"Master Lethar, I…I," she stammered.

He lifted a hand, a silent indication to slow down. "Tell me about your work," he prodded. "From the very beginning, the basics,"

She took a breath. Start simple.

"I've been developing a framework," she said, striving to keep her voice steady. "One that could potentially explain some of the inconsistencies in arclith behavior."

Lethar's gaze drifted over the table—the pages of calculations, the bookmarked records, the energy gauge still resting beside the tested samples.

"The properties of arclith, as you would know, aren't uniform across sources," she continued. "The Deepshy have always extracted and worked with what I've termed 'geo-shards,' formed by geologic or volcanic processes deep underground. These need geothermal or magnetic energy, or a combination, to charge. However, some shards we've come across on the surface, which I've dubbed 'astro-shards,' appear to originate from matter that have been ejected by the sun or stars, traversing the heavens to crash into the surface of our world. They don't need heat or magnets at all. They seem to be able to charge from sunlight or starlight, albeit at a slower rate compared to geo-shards."

Lethar nodded along, absorbing her words.

"And what leads you to believe these are separate classifications rather than simply… variations of the same source material, or inconsequential deviations due to their origins… or manner of storage?" he probed.

"Records support this," Menna insisted. "They describe two entirely distinct origins—some arclith mined from underground, others gathered from rocks that fell from the sky. And their properties differ significantly based on my own experiments. The charge of geo-shards decays faster when isolated, unable to draw heat from the earth. Astro-shards' energy fades in darkness. That's why—"

Lethar lifted a finger, stopping her mid-thought.

"Ah… But consider this, Menna—if your theory holds, then why do we find charged arclith deposits deep underground, even in sealed caverns far from any geothermal activity?" he posited. "If it's true that shards from the sky can charge when exposed to light, then why do all Surface Shy still rely on the shards we Deepshy mine and charge? While your concept of astro-shards is intriguing, you also acknowledge that their scarcity, the time and effort required to find and charge them, may render them impractical for widespread use. Are your experiments reproducible in the total absence of any nearby arclith lode? You're aware that Obsidara is not just surrounded, but permeated, by arclith in various states of charging."

Menna opened her mouth—then hesitated. That was all true. Had she accounted for all that?

Lethar smiled, as though sensing her uncertainty.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Many scholars have explored these concepts," he said, tapping a large, leather-bound tome. "Yet no single system has fully accounted for all their varied observations. It's tempting to impose patterns where none exist. Nature and magic, both the physical and arcane realms, often defy rigid categorization."

Menna frowned. "But the core properties—"

"—are not as absolute as you suggest," Lethar stated with arch finality. " And this, I believe, is what frustrates you. Your model offers some explanations yet introduces new contradictions. A keen researcher must ask: Are these contradictions inherent in the world, or merely flaws in the model?"

Her stomach twisted. The way he argued—so effortlessly, so unshakably confident—made her question if she'd been hasty in her conclusions.

Lethar gestured toward her messy stacks of notes, the aura of gentle patience settling back around him.

"Perhaps," he suggested, "it would serve you well to review the foundational works on arclith behavior first. You might find that many of these questions have been raised before… and left open for good reason."

He rose to leave, pausing only to rest a hand lightly on one of her books.

"I am confident you will make fine contributions to the academy, Menna. But be wary of seeking clarity where none exists. The world is rarely so transparent."

And then he was gone, the tap of his cane growing softer as he gained distance.

Menna sat in a daze. She thought she should have felt more enlightened, reassured by his wisdom. Instead, she felt adrift.

Had she merely rehashed a flawed theory? Had her single-minded pursuit led her astray?

But something about the master's words, about how deftly he had redirected her, nagged at the corners of her thoughts.

She found Kaeloris lounging in his office, absently flipping through a dense historical text while snacking on fresh dewthorn fruit imported from the surface.

She walked up to him just as he turned a page, asking. "You ever feel like Master Lethar evades questions, or any challenges to conventional knowledge?"

Kaeloris flipped a page but didn't quite ignore her, his free hand wet with fruit juice gesturing lazily for her to take a seat. "He's a master, Menna. He does not 'evade.' He may approach a line of inquiry from different angles."

Menna's scowl deepened. He hadn't addressed her question—just rearranged the words into something more conveniently refutable. "I thought the masters here at Umbryss would encourage any possible breakthroughs. I thought that was why he welcomed me here in the first place."

The liaison sighed, closing his book. "Master Lethar has dedicated decades to his field. He's seen more theories come and go than you or I ever will. If he tells you something isn't worth pursuing, he's most likely justified. If he wanted you here at Umbryss so we could supervise your work, he undoubtedly has a purpose for you."

Menna crossed her arms. "But that's the thing—he didn't exactly tell me to stop. He just… picked apart my work in a way that made me question whether I need to go in an entirely different direction."

Kaeloris gave her a look, like a teacher indulging a particularly stubborn student. "Perhaps that's because you should."

As she left the hall, Menna sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the makings of a mild headache.

Menna found Zeris at their shared workstation, cross-referencing notes for an upcoming symposium. The older scholar glanced up as Menna slid into the seat across from her, resting her aching head on her arms.

"You look like someone just dunked on you," Zeris observed dryly.

Menna hesitated before responding with a groan. "Ugh… I'm trying not to dwell on all the work I may have wasted. It's just that… I wonder if my ideas have any hope of aligning with the kind of research that finds favor here."

Zeris arched a platinum eyebrow. "Master Lethar got to you too, huh?"

Menna nodded, grateful for the sympathetic ear.

Zeris tapped her stylus against her slate. "Let me guess. He didn't tell you to stop. He just made you feel like… you should backtrack and adjust your objectives. Shift to a path that would win his approval."

Menna sat up. "You've been through this before?"

Zeris smirked. "Welcome to the academy." She leaned back, looking at Menna with genuine sympathy. "Look, Master Lethar's brilliant. But he and the other masters are all playing their own games. If he thinks you're wasting energy on a dead end, meaning one that doesn't benefit his personal schemes, he'll nudge you elsewhere."

"Nudge," Menna echoed. "Or steer?"

"Same thing, if you're not careful," Zeris admitted. She fixed Menna with a sharp look. "You're asking the kind of questions that get doors closed to you before you realize they were ever open."

Menna exhaled. "I just want to understand what the limits are... and why they're even there in the first place"

Zeris shrugged. "You'd better learn how to work within them first."

The official stance was clear—step out of line too soon, and you'd be shut out before you get anywhere. Zeris seemed fine with crossing some lines, but not with thinking too outside of the box that Umbryss and the masters had them bounded by.

Sveyn wasn't at their usual workstation, so Menna tracked him down in the mechanical lab, where he was disassembling faulty arclith coils and circuits, figuring out where they went wrong.

"Menna," he greeted without looking up. "You always walk into a room trying your best not to be noticed. Such an endearingly Middleshy trait."

Menna hesitated. Sveyn wasn't as outspoken as the others, but he was incisive in a way that made her careful about how much she said.

"I was going through some older research," she said carefully. "And I noticed something. You know how some shards from the surface and those mined from the Deep behave differently?"

Sveyn paused for a fraction of a second before resuming his work.

"Yeah?" he said neutrally.

Menna narrowed her eyes. "And? You've thought about this before?"

Sveyn finally glanced up, rubbing the back of his wrist across his forehead. "Me? Sure. If you're studying arclith, you must have at one point or another."

That startled her. "There are more Deepshy who've brought this up?"

Sveyn shrugged. "There've always been weird inconsistencies between surface arclith and deep-mined arclith. The thing is, none of them have ever been consistent enough to draw clear conclusions."

"But you've noticed it," Menna pressed.

"Of course," Sveyn replied, sounding amused. "We just assumed someone smarter than us already figured it out, ages ago. And if they didn't bother making it a bigger discussion, then it wasn't worth our time. There's lots more exciting stuff to take apart and put together."

Menna stared at him. "But what if a proper discussion never got started because everyone thought that way? Or were encouraged to think that way? I've grown to learn that this is how… some of the masters, may tend to guide research along certain lines."

Sveyn gave her a curious look. "If that's true… it'll be interesting if you can figure out why."

Menna hadn't expected Sveyn to challenge the status quo. But he at least acknowledged the alternatives, which gave her something to build her hopes on.

She found Vazko in the academy's colonnade, where students passed between lecture halls. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the bustle around him like he was an outsider trapped in a place where he didn't belong.

"I'm here today upon request of Master Lethar," he cut her off as soon as she approached. "Some valuable… documents need to be escorted to the surface."

"Nice to see you too Vazko," she quipped as she came to a stop in front of him. "But if you're heading up, could I please… ask you to check for any news about my Sunshy friend, Sylven?"

"Of course," the Deepguard nodded. "And your family?"

"Yes, them too…" Menna blushed, prompting Vazko to squint slightly as he took notice of her reddening cheeks. "And maybe I could have you bring something back down for me? It would be a big help in confirming some of my hunches. For all the good that would do…"

Vazko leaned in closer, picking up on the discouraged tone in Menna's voice. "What do you mean? The other students giving you a hard time? Kaeloris shoot another of your theories down?"

"Nobody's giving me a hard time or shooting me down," she said abruptly. "More like, pushing and pulling me here and there."

The commander's squint intensified into a furrowed brow. "That so? Sometimes it's best to step back, clear your head, and just go with your gut feeling. My instincts haven't done me wrong yet."

"I don't feel like I'm being suppressed or misled," Menna continued. "I think… whatever it is I've stirred up, they've all already known about for a long time. But they just don't want certain people re-examining it too closely."

Vazko considered her carefully, tilting his head. "And why do you think that?"

"Because nobody has actually made an effort to prove me wrong," she sighed. "They've just led me around, piling up enough facts and information in my way to make me start doubting myself. Wasting my time in double or triple-checking my findings and calculations to make sure they couldn't tear them apart. They're not aiming to discredit me… yet. Just keep me going in circles until I exhaust myself and move on."

The words hung between them as they studied each other's eyes for a moment. Hers were strained and moist with suppressed tears, while his were icy with smoldering but contained ire.

Vazko exhaled sharply. "Now that sounds familiar."

Menna blinked. "What do you mean?"

Vazko ran a gloved hand over the back of his head, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful.

"My brother, Veyran. He used to say something just like that. About magic."

Menna stilled. "Magic?" she echoed, the word waking up certain thought processes in her mind.

Vazko nodded, crossing his arms. "He used to complain that the masters don't teach magic, not really. Just what they want magic to be. That they gatekeep it. Control it." His gaze drifted to her notes. "Sounds like they do the same with what we know about arclith."

Menna's pulse quickened. She had assumed she was alone in this, that it was just her ideas being stonewalled. But the reactions of Kaeloris, Zeris, Sveyn, and even Vazko, suggested a broader pattern of obfuscation, one that extended to the very nature of matter and magic itself.

She started to tidy up her records—making sense of the half-scratched out, half-rewritten sprawl––a battlefield of uncertainty. Creeping into her consciousness was a feeling she had never associated with knowledge before: fear.

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