Cane arrived at the Great Library just after dawn, determined to make good use of the quiet. His Water Element class was still an hour off, and the idea of being early to something—even accidentally—felt foreign enough to avoid at all costs. Today, his curiosity led him back to the magical creature section, specifically looking for information on fire wisps.
He hadn't forgotten the flame spirit—Chimi—now bound to his forge. Opening the door within the forge had felt like sealing a pact, and if he was going to keep feeding the fire, he figured he ought to know what it might one day become.
"I'm flattered," came the purring voice behind him.
He turned. A silver cat stretched itself across a stack of unsorted scrolls, tail flicking lazily.
"You wish to learn more about me..." Vel's yellow eyes blinked slowly.
Cane grinned. "Unless you've recently taken up residence inside a cannonball, I was actually hoping to learn more about fire wisps."
Vel scoffed. It was a practiced sound—half amusement, half disdain. "Fire wisps? Please. They barely merit a pamphlet."
"Perfect. I don't have time for a full dissertation anyway," Cane replied, resting a hand on the bookshelf beside him. "Enlighten me."
The cat rolled over and dropped off the scroll pile, landing gracefully before shifting mid-air. By the time her feet hit the ground, she was fully human—copper and black hair flowing as if caught in a breeze, eyes still predatory and amused.
"Fine," she said, brushing dust from her tunic. "Wisps are fledgling spirits of flame. They consume fire to grow stronger. With enough consumption, they evolve—first into sprites, then imps, and if they're lucky, djinns."
"That's... disturbingly linear," Cane noted. "No chance they go sideways and become lava leeches or volcanic elementals?"
Vel arched an eyebrow. "This is fire, not chaos. Fire burns upward—it's goal-oriented."
"That's two sentences," Cane said, deadpan.
"Consider the third a bonus," Vel said with a grin. "And be careful. Sprites get clever. Imps get greedy. Djinns... rewrite the rules."
Cane's smile faded slightly as he considered Chimi's glow warming the walls of his forge. He gave Vel a polite nod and turned toward the exit.
"Heading off to Water class?" she called after him, already mid-flicker back into feline form.
He paused at the stairs. "Yeah. Figured I'd start the day balanced."
Vel's voice echoed from somewhere between bookshelves and dimensions. "Balance is overrated. Chaos makes better stories."
Cane left the library at a brisk walk, not wanting to be late for Professor Selene's class. The morning air was crisp, and the halls were beginning to fill with chatter and footsteps, but his thoughts lingered on Vel's warning: Sprites get clever. Imps get greedy. Djinn's rewrite the rules.
He entered the open, echoing chamber of the water classroom just as the students were settling into place. Shallow pools glistened beneath arched stone bridges, and the faint sound of moving water filled the space like background music. Most of the class was already seated, their attention caught between quiet conversation and the quiet authority of Professor Selene Morva.
She stood poised at the head of the room, her aquamarine eyes scanning her students with measured calm—until they landed on him. Then, for the briefest moment, they softened.
Selene glided across the room, and every conversation stilled. Even Arven, the ever-watchful assistant instructor from the Fire Element, looked up from his spot near the side platform, brows narrowing. For some reason, he'd gotten himself assigned to Selene's class for the duration of the first cycle, and his presence carried the weight of unrequited affection.
Cane nodded politely. "Good morn—"
A cool hand settled gently on his shoulder. Selene's gaze met his, full of unspoken gratitude.
"Thank you, Cane," she said softly.
He met her eyes, understanding instantly. "Don't mention it."
But Selene shook her head slightly, her silvery hair swaying with the motion. "You connected us—though neither of us knew of the other. You asked for nothing. You acted not for reward, but out of friendship. Through Neri's bond, I was shown what happened. You saved her with the saltwater rune. You freed her from a cage meant to break her. You carried her to the sea."
Cane shrugged. "Friendship doesn't come with debt."
That earned a laugh—light, clear, and completely unexpected. The entire class blinked in surprise as the normally reserved professor smiled, unguarded.
"Well said," she murmured.
Cane grinned. "But if you're determined to compensate me, passing me with an A would be a great start."
"Done," Selene said, her musical voice laced with mirth.
"Professor!" Arven's voice cut sharply through the moment. His posture stiffened, and the temperature in the room rose noticeably. The steam drifting from a nearby pool hissed against the sudden heat.
Selene turned toward him with the calm of a still ocean before a storm. "Do not do that in my class, Arven."
The temperature dropped. Steam faded. Arven looked away, jaw tight.
Selene returned her attention to Cane. "In truth, your performance in water manipulation has far surpassed introductory expectations. From this point on, I'm giving you free rein in class. You'll continue to assist your classmates—but otherwise, you're unshackled."
Cane's grin widened. "Agreed."
"Class...Please, do not touch the water."
Selene raised a hand, fingers graceful and deliberate. A deep click echoed beneath the surface. Moments later, a hidden hatch at the bottom of the pool slid open. The water lit up instantly—crackling and popping with raw current as dozens of slender, flickering forms darted into view.
Gasps rippled through the class as bolts of electricity danced across the shallow pools, illuminating the room with erratic flashes of blue and white.
Selene's voice floated over the crackling surface. "The effect wouldn't be as impressive with just one or two. But in groups, they're capable of incapacitating fully grown men. Consider this a lesson in scale—and in danger."
She turned, eyes cool and focused. "Today, you will each use the containment crystals I issued to bind one of these eels. Successful binding is required to pass this lesson."
Cane stifled a grin. Well… that answers that. He'd used his containment crystal to capture the flame wisp with Fergis. He'd been worried about this part of the curriculum—but now that Selene had assigned him as a helper, he allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.
"Since this is a rather troublesome exercise," Selene continued, "I'll ask Mr. Cane to demonstrate for us."
He blinked. "Well... you see, there was this—"
"Yes, Mr. Cane?" Her expression held polite expectation—and a flicker of amusement.
Cane cleared his throat. "After considering the task… I'd like to attempt it without the containment crystal."
The air warmed immediately.
"Water is a conduit for electricity," Arven interjected, his voice thick with sarcasm. "As an advanced elementalist, you should know that."
"I do know that," Cane replied evenly, unphased by Arven's tone.
Selene nodded, her faint smile returning. "Continue, Mr. Cane."
Cane stepped forward and took a calming breath. He closed his eyes, allowing his awareness to sink beneath the surface of the water. He felt its depth, its motion, the threads of current between the eels. With practiced ease, he extended his will—and the water answered.
A perfect sphere lifted from the pool, floating midair. Inside, a single eel twisted and sparked, releasing arcs of blue lightning in protest.
"Oh boy," Clara murmured from the back. Her freckled face leaned forward, eyes gleaming with admiration. "Do it," she whispered.
Cane smiled faintly, remembering the parchment Nos had traded him the night before—a rune that converted electricity to heat. He hadn't asked what it was for at the time. He'd just known it would be useful.
He traced the pattern into the orb, using the eel's own electricity to etch the rune with shimmering precision. It flared—
WOOSH.
The orb dimmed. Its glow softened. Warm air radiated outward like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
"Impressive," Arven said tightly, his voice dipped in false praise. "You've used water as both containment and conduit. But it's unstable. You'll find it's not a viable container."
Cane didn't answer. He sank deeper into his trance, immersed fully in the elemental structure. He could see the flaw—Arven was right. Water was too pliable, too inconsistent to hold a rune for long.
Unless…
He studied the properties as if flipping through the pages of a book—one only he could read.
"Interesting," he murmured aloud. "Arven's correct. Water is unstable in its natural form. But if I remove just one property…"
He reached inward and pulled. The change was subtle but exacting—just enough to make the outer membrane of the orb rigid, without losing its flow.
Cane opened his eyes and reached out.
The orb didn't ripple.
It held.
He caught it in both hands—delicate as glass, pliable as soap, but solid enough to cradle the writhing eel within.
"Amazing!" Clara clapped before she could stop herself. Her excitement broke the silence. "It's like a bubble—but it's holding!"
Cane gave her a lopsided grin. "Still don't recommend trying to pop it."
After class, Cane made his way back to Tower Seven, orb in hand and one thought in mind: relaxation.
Fergis looked up from where he was sprawled near the stairwell, half-asleep, half-reading a poorly folded spell diagram. His eyes widened when he saw the glowing orb.
"What is that?"
"Hot springs generator," Cane replied smoothly, not slowing as he unlocked his door.
"Bullshit." Fergis poked the orb, recoiling as warmth radiated up his arm. "Wait—you used the rune Nos gave us last night, didn't you?"
Cane nodded. "Yep. Just need a pool of water."
"Central fountain!" Fergis whooped, already spinning on his heel as he darted into his room.
"Where are you going?"
"Swimsuit!" came the shout, muffled by crashing drawers. He emerged seconds later in loose shorts, a towel draped dramatically around his scrawny shoulders. "You were serious, right?"
Cane nodded again, then ducked into his own room to change.
By the time they crossed the main courtyard, students were lounging on the grass in the fading sun, finishing lessons or exchanging notes. The buzz of conversation dipped the moment Cane and Fergis appeared—one carrying a softly glowing orb, the other looking far too excited for his own good.
"This fountain is now off-limits," Fergis declared with theatrical gravitas, planting himself beside it.
No one objected. His reputation as Firekiss had been earned at the cost of scorched eyebrows and melted boots.
"Well said," Cane muttered, setting the orb gently into the water. He dropped his towel just as the orb sank, pulsing faintly.
The fountain glowed blue.
Water shifted. Steam began rising—thin wisps curling upward, then thickening into a visible haze. The temperature climbed rapidly as the orb's rune struggled to release its heat into a magically stabilized pool.
Cane and Fergis exchanged a look.
Then they climbed over the edge and sank in.
"Ahhh…" Fergis exhaled. "Better than a room full of smoke any day."
"Way better," Cane agreed, eyes half-lidded.
Voices drifted from across the square.
"Hey… is that a hot spring?"
"Let us join!"
"Brother Fergis, surely there's room!"
Cane cracked an eye open. He recognized the voices—the same group of boys who'd harassed Sofie near the gates.
"Off-limits," Fergis repeated without lifting his head.
That was all it took. The would-be intruders shuffled off, dignity bruised.
An hour passed in peace. The courtyard's chatter faded with the sun. Cane and Fergis finally clambered out, skin flushed, limbs loose with heat. They draped their towels over their shoulders and started back toward the tower.
Then—
A scream, high-pitched and echoed by several others, cut through the stillness behind them.
Fergis turned. "You released the eel, right?"
Cane laughed. "Of course. Leaving it in that orb would be unethical."