The castle rose from bedrock at the hilltop, seated on a broad plateau, rather than a dramatic peak. The walls were carved with dark granite, veined with pale mineral lines, a hint of immense power hidden in the somewhat unassuming building.

  The walls were thick enough that sound died inside and around them. Each block was enormous, fused with mortar and cultivation techniques that compressed stone until it became closer to earth than to architecture. Cracks were reinforced, stabilized, and magical scripts carved into load-bearing wall, invisible until activated.

  The leyline flowed downward, anchoring to the earth. Spirit lanterns emitted a constant, low glow, never flickering, never brightening.

  It was not the typical home for the Patriarch of a Noble Ascendant clan.

  There were no floating towers, no soaring bridges. No excess.

  Inside, ceilings were low for a cultivator’s standards, forcing even powerful beings to bow their heads slightly as they walked through the doorway. Corridors were wide but straight, designed to prevent wandering so that every turn had to be deliberate.

  At the heart of the castle was Anchor Hall.

  A circular chamber carved directly into the plateau’s core. A massive stone dais fused to the floor, upon which rested a monolith etched with a single character repeated endlessly in diminishing script.

  A long scroll had been spread across the center of the room, a column of white in the midst of the dark colored carpet.

  An older man was writing something on a scroll. He’d probably written it several times, even though there was really no point in it. They had technology that didn’t require such arduous kinds of spell-making.

  “Albert,” Elric called, his lips spreading with fondness as the old estate caretaker looked up. “I swear, you get younger every time I see you. You don’t like a day over three hundred.”

  Albert merely grunted in response, but Elric didn’t take offense. Master Albert had never been one for long speeches anyway.

  “Is he in his study?” Elric asked.

  Albert grunted again, which could either mean a yes, no, or a 'bug off'.

  Elric took it to mean the first.

  “Always nice talking to you, old friend.”

  Albert didn’t bother responding and only frowned at the drip of ink on the spell script he’d presumably botched thanks to Elric’s distraction.

  As he walked away, Elric could almost feel the man thrusting stone daggers at his back.

  The good mood he’d acquired from teasing Albert was lost as he climbed the echoey stairs of the stone castle. The tightness around his neck returned, the same one he always experienced whenever he had to meet with the Patriarch of the Historical Massa-dominant clan. The Earthbinder clan was said to be descended from Krenn-Of-The-Third-Edge, the first mage who discovered the mass essence.

  As one of the senior members of the Celestial Assembly and the Patriarch of the oldest noble clans in the world, Edward Earthbinder, the Holy Anchor, rarely left his home.

  He was one of three legendary-level mages still alive, who rarely utilized his strength but refused to surrender it. He spent most of his days inside, cultivating, preparing for some unseen war that had not yet happened in his nearly six hundred years of life. He’d neglected everything in his pursuit of perfection, driven away all of his wives and concubines, his children, both legitimate and otherwise. He cared not for his family or his riches, and if not for Albert, he would have let his estate fall into disrepair, while he remained in one spot with his eyes closed, refining his cores, growing his awareness, preparing.

  He was in the same spot he’d been when Elrirc had visited him nearly five years ago. His bedroom was bare except for a single mat on the floor, where the patriarch sat cross-legged.

  His beard had been trimmed by Albert. His loincloth had been changed, and his body cleaned. But he had not opened his eyes in all that time.

  Elric leaned against the entryway for awkward seconds before he cleared his throat.

  “It’s me,” he said, though the man could probably tell who it was, as attuned to his surroundings as he was. Heck, Edward could probably tell the second Elric walked onto this mountain.

  “I don’t want to disturb your…protracted meditating, but I need a favor from you.”

  The Patriarch didn’t speak for a long time, so long that Elric was about to repeat himself.

  Then, finally, Edward said in a voice that sounded like the earth splitting open. “A favor?” His voice rumbled raspy and low. "My wayward son, who refuses his birthright and abandons his responsibility, is now requesting a favor?"

  “Yes." Elric didn't point out that it had been his father who had abandoned him first. "I need a recommendation letter for a student to the Erynwall Academy of Stoichiomancy. Late admission."

  “Who is this student?”

  “She is no one. Simply a talented candidate."

  "And who are her parents?"

  "Mossborne's."

  “The insolence." The Patriarch's displeasure radiated in the atmosphere. "You would put such a child in a place with the best and the brightest? A chick should never play in the same coup as an eagle."

  Elric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes, he forgot that the man had been a farmer before he’d become one of the strongest Massa-dominant Legendary Mages the world had ever seen.

  But his statement revealed a new complication in the Ari problem. Her parentage.

  With Ascendants, power level and skill were closely associated with bloodlines. There had been a few skilled Ascendants who came from unimpressive bloodlines, but none of them had been quite as skilled as Arielle.

  No one would believe a child of Mossborne's could achieve such genius in such a short time. They would investigate and may discover her secret.

  Elric needed a cover-up.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "The child is something of a genius," Elric said. "And I have doubts about her parentage."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes. I will need some time to confirm them."

  The Patriarch inhaled deeply and exhaled, the temperature of the room dropping.

  "A bird that asks for grain before learning to fly will soon lose its way," he said.

  “Of course,” Elric responded, though he didn’t know what that meant. He never knew what his father's proverbs meant.

  “I will need a favor from you in return.”

  Ah. “Yes. Of course, I didn’t imagine that you would ever do this for me for free.”

  The man finally opened an eye, still meditating but regarding Elric with a sardonic look devoid of guilt or affection.

  “You would go as far as to owe me a debt for a student you describe as nobody?”

  Elric fought to keep his face from changing. Massa-leaning clans, particularly the Earthbinders, were known for having unflappable expressions. They could read even the slightest imbalance, and even without the Luxa, they would know simply from a single glance what you were thinking and how you were feeling.

  So Elric tried not to think about Arielle, and her father, whom she had not seen in years, and her life that was now in danger, thanks to his faulty judgment of a situation.

  He tried not to think about how painful extracting her power would be if she made that choice. It was the same as drawing out half her life force.

  He also tried not to think of what the anomaly of the young Archmage represented.

  Her skill was rough. Untrained. But she had the best control of elements that he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how she’d gotten her power, but they were nothing short of Heavensent. He hoped she chose to keep them.

  Even though their discovery could get both of them in serious trouble, it would be too much of a waste to get rid of them now.

  ***

  Arielle had a small dilemma about what to wear the next morning.

  Elric was coming, and she had to give him her decision today.

  After her sister had properly explained who Archmage Elric was in the world of the Ascendants, she didn’t want to appear before such an important man as she’d done before, in her errand clothes, smelling of fish. She wanted to look a little more sophisticated.

  So she'd asked Celie to braid her hair in two plaits once she'd returned from her assassination mission, and they both decided on her brown frock and black sandals, paired with a dark cape.

  "Good," Celie said when it was done. "Now you look like a proper ascendant lady."

  “Actually, a lady wouldn’t wear this,” Ari said, adjusting the sleeve with careful fingers. “She would be attired in silken court robes embroidered with house sigils and rank-thread, most likely in layered panels to display lineage. Also jewels. At least three visible pieces. Otherwise, the status signal is incomplete.”

  “I don't know,” Celie pursed her lips, hands on her hips. “You still look the part to me.”

  “That is statistically unlikely,” Ari examined the hem again. “The fabric is wool. Ascendant noble courts strongly prefer silk or cloudweave. Wool communicates practicality, not nobility.”

  “Ari, you’re missing the point.”

  “I don’t think I am,” she said earnestly. “You made a statement about visual classification. I am clarifying that the classification is inaccurate.”

  “It was a compliment.”

  “Oh.” She paused, thinking. “You were expressing approval of my appearance rather than making a literal comparison.”

  “Exactly.”

  “In that case,” she said slowly, “thank you. Though I still believe the comparison to be structurally unsound.”

  “Noted,” Celie exhaled. “Try not to do that at your new school, by the way."

  "Do what?"

  "Correct people unnecessarily. It comes off as arrogant. And don’t say things that make people uncomfortable. Just be normal.”

  Therein lay the problem. Ari didn’t know what normal was. The rules of socialization were long, complex, and ever-changing, and she could never get the hang of them.

  There was no point in even hoping she might eventually overcome them.

  But she could try.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Now come here, let me pluck your eyebrows. You're growing an unsightly track in the middle."

  Ari reluctantly went to her, and as her sister worked, she asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Yes," Ari responded. "I showed you the list." Ari had itemized the pros and cons last night and passed the list around to her family during dinner, informing them of her final decision.

  "Of course, but I'm just thinking....you'll be so far from home with no one you know around you. You'll be amongst other Ascendants, people who can rip open the sky if they choose to. I'm worried."

  "Don't be," Ari said. "I'm one of them now."

  "Do you want to be?"

  "Yes," she answered. "There's nothing for me here in Fenway. I failed my Moat Trials, and at best, I'll become a reserve, earning only a few copper for us a month. I don't want to be useless. As an Ascendant, I'll earn much more and be much more useful. Ow." The last part was said because her sister yanked out a particularly stubborn blade of hair.

  "Is that all there is to it?" she asked. "The money?"

  "No," she said.

  A few painful seconds later, a knock sounded on the door.

  Archmage Elric had arrived.

  Ari descended the steps in time to see her mother open the door. Her brother had gone out on morning patrols, so it was just the three women at home.

  Archmage Elric walked in with a welcoming smile.

  "Good morning to you, Blacksoils," he greeted.

  "Archmage," Thessa said. "You look as unfed as always. There are some leftovers from breakfast. Would you like some broth or tea or–"

  "No need. I don't want to put you out."

  "You wouldn't be putting me out. The food's already made."

  "Yes, but–"

  "I want to be a mage," Ari blurted out, halting the conversation. "I want to attend the Academy." She'd already told her mother and her sister, so they weren't surprised.

  The Archmage raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  Elric grinned. "Then it's a good thing you already received admission to Erynwall Academy of Stoichiomancy."

  "The best academy on the continent?"

  "Yes." He cocked his head. "You remember my telling you that all those years ago?"

  "She remembers everything," Celie said.

  "How did I already get admitted?" Ari asked. "I haven't even applied yet."

  "I applied on your behalf."

  "How did you know I would want to become a mage?"

  He winked. "I had a feeling. Anyway, it's a tentative admission, based only on a letter of recommendation. They don't know anything else about you, and depending on your scores, it might get revoked. But I don't think you have to worry about that. On the contrary, I think the worry here is that you might score too high."

  "Too high at what?"

  "Today, we will need to get you incorporated into the system. I must take you to the Ministry of Student and Youth Affairs, where you'll be evaluated and given a rank, a lean, and all of that. From then on, every time you do a spell, it adds to your level, and you can level up."

  "I've heard of that," Celie said.

  "What's a lean?" Ari asked.

  "A lean is basically your dominant essence according to your most refined cores. For example, I have a Massa-Luxa lean. Massa is my most refined core, followed by Luxa, which is often the support. This means I'm most skilled at spells that use a lot of Massa, with Luxa balancing the equation, and my Grimoire, my highest-level spells, confirm this. Most mages have a two-way lean because of the need for a supportive charge to cancel out the dominant one. The exception, of course, is Vitae, which is a neutral-charged component and hence can trigger a one-way lean in that the mage's Vitae core is the most refined. Your lean is also tied to your heritage. I'm descended from a historic Massa-dominant clan, hence why my lean is the way it is."

  "So what will my lean be?" Ari asked.

  "I'm not sure. I have my suspicions, but we'll see when we go later today."

  "How will she hide her true strength at the evaluation?" Thessa asked.

  Elric's expression tensed as he bit his lip. "It will be hard, but with a little bit of luck and some planning...I think I can manage it. Now, if you're ready, we can go."