They said the Moon hung lower the night before a Blessing, as though She leaned down to listen.

  Orion, now ten years old and two heads taller than he had been when he first brewed a Sapping potion in secret, doubted the astronomy behind that claim—but the Sanctum’s main atrium certainly looked different.

  Each lantern had been shaded so that only slivers of light escaped, forming luminous sigils that traced gentle crescents across the vast marble floor, while ribbons of incense slowly floated upward.

  Today was his cohort’s Apprenticement. The Initiate class would remain in their statuses, but from this point forward, they would begin their official lessons to prepare them for the day when they would receive their Class.

  In a way, it was prep school. It would weed out those few without talent and introduce everyone to the wonders of magic in a controlled setting.

  Orion remained unconvinced about the divine allocation of talent; however, his mother insisted that attendance was mandatory, and he didn’t care enough to fight her.

  Asteria herself lingered only long enough to straighten the collar of his dark tunic and remind him that, no, he could not sketch the High Priestess’s runes while the ceremony was in progress.

  But how am I supposed to study them? My memory is basically eidetic, and I keep forgetting them the moment they aren’t in my sight anymore…

  So, Orion stood among twenty-three other children—Luna, Dorian, Selene, and a scattering of others whose faces he barely bothered to remember—inside a private prayer room sealed off from the central atrium, waiting to be called.

  The chamber’s walls curved, windowless, painted midnight blue, and dotted with flecks of embedded gems that glimmered like stars.

  No one dared to speak. Even Orion could tell this was a moment that demanded silence, and despite the burning curiosity in his chest, he kept his lips sealed.

  A nod from the witch guarding the door had them file out and back into the main chamber, where hundreds were waiting for them.

  When the last child had taken their position, another door on the opposite side opened, and the room held its breath.

  High Priestess Seraphina glided in with silent footsteps. She appeared more as a phenomenon than an individual: her layered robes of sapphire and ash-gray floated effortlessly, while her sleeves sparkled with bead-like constellations. A half-veil of silver lace concealed her mouth and chin, leaving her piercing topaz eyes visible. Silver runes adorned her brow, reflecting the soft lantern light in flashes.

  Her mere presence caused everyone to fall to their knees in reverence. Even Orion lowered himself, though more out of a need not to stand out than from any genuine desire. Still, he could grudgingly admit that she was quite impressive.

  A second woman walked behind her, tall and tranquil, with hair shimmering pale silver like comets in the night sky. In contrast to Seraphina’s larger-than-life presence, which was so powerful it demanded attention, she felt like a cold shower on a hot day, exuding both care and danger.

  Orion knew her as Magistra Eire. His mother had told him she would take over his teachings and that it was a great honor, as she was regarded as one of the most powerful witches of the coven, in line to become a Veil Priestess.

  She held a crystal basin overflowing with a softly glowing substance, as if moonlight liquefied.

  “Children of Lunar blood,” Seraphina began, her voice was velvet thunder—quiet, yet each word struck them deeply.

  “Ten turns you have walked beneath the Mother’s light. Tonight She opens Her palm and names you Candidates. In time, She will write your true vocation upon the secret scroll of your soul, but know that today is no less important. Stand firm, and receive Her Blessing, for it is now that you become part of the Sanctum in truth.”

  A collective shiver ran through the children. Orion kept his arms folded behind his back, looking attentive as he noted how her voice rumbled through the chamber, yet he could feel it whispering behind his ear.

  There isn’t a speaker, but can this be done with mere acoustics, or is she using a spell? I’d peg it at ～40 dB, no higher than a bubbling brook, but I can feel it in my chest.

  Eire began leading the children, row by row, toward the dais. When each child stepped before the High Priestess, Seraphina extended a fingertip above their foreheads and summoned a single drop from the basin.

  The liquid slowly ascended, blooming into a miniature crescent moon that sank through their skin without a trace. Luna’s freckles flashed silver for a heartbeat; Dorian blinked rapidly, his eyes glowing; Selene smiled brighter than Orion had ever seen.

  Then Eire beckoned him forward, and the room narrowed in his perception. Up close, Seraphina seemed taller, partly because she looked straight into him, through him. He fought the urge to fidget, not liking the way she made him feel like she knew exactly who he was. What he was.

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  “Orion Amadeus Voidwalker,” she intoned, using the full name no one ever spoke aloud. “May Her light guide you.”

  The droplet rose at her silent urging. Orion tracked it, noting its surface tension, refractive index, and the ripple of mana swirling inside as though obeying magnetohydrodynamic laws. Then, it passed between his brows, and cold fire rippled across his skull, blooming into information that both was and wasn’t language:

  The text faded from the inner surface of his eyelids. He exhaled—when had he stopped breathing?—and stepped aside. No chorus of hallelujahs rose, no sudden surge of power followed, but he felt… sharper, perhaps, like adjusting a microscope’s focus for that final bit.

  He had not known this was a possibility. It implied a much more engaging way of interacting with the System, but unfortunately, no one seemed inclined to explain what had happened.

  No matter, I will find out on my own.

  The ritual concluded with a final chanted litany led by Seraphina, echoed by Eire and the attending witches:

  “From Wax to Wane,

  Light to Dark,

  Thought to Deed—

  So walk we all the Celestial Arc.”

  With the last word, unseen braziers flickered and ignited in perfect synchrony. Seraphina turned and vanished behind the veil, taking their light with her.

  Adults rose from their kneelers; the children exhaled in scattered relief and excitement, feeling more like a part of the whole.

  An hour later, the ceremony gave way to their first lesson. Magistra Eire escorted Orion’s cohort into a smaller, crescent-shaped lecture hall carved directly from the mountain’s inner limestone. Niches of glowing quartz provided soft illumination, and the benches were arranged amphitheater-style around a central dais etched with concentric lunar phases.

  It looks very different from Mom’s classroom. Hers was significantly more practical.

  “Take your seats,” Eire commanded with a soft voice. She waited until the shuffling feet and whispered excitement at being real Initiates died down before beginning in earnest. “Today's lesson is simple—perhaps the simplest. In time, I will show you the depths of magic, reveal the secrets of the arcane, but for now, I will simply introduce you to the first concept any Initiate must learn. Light.”

  She lifted a slim hand, turning her palm so it faced upward. “This is the simplest of the Mother’s gifts, something that will come almost by instinct to you. Observe.”

  There was no incantation, no grand gesture. A sphere of white-silver light swelled above her palm until it shone bright enough to cast shadows beneath every child’s chin.

  Interesting, I’ve seen Mom use the same Torchlight spell, but the shadows she cast were not this still.

  “Light mana,” Eire continued, “pervades the Lunar Sanctum because it has been consecrated, generation after generation, to reflect the Moon’s essence. Its concentration eases our spells, making everything we do that much more powerful. But outside these walls, mana exists in countless hues.”

  She closed her fist, and the light vanished. Her other hand rose. Again, she said nothing, merely opening her fingers.

  A sphere materialized once more, but this one appeared to absorb brightness rather than emit it: ebony shot through with purple sparks, like a miniature event horizon. Its surface consumed the glow of the quartz lamps, dimming the lecture hall.

  “Dark mana is very scarce here,” Eire remarked, gesturing towards the orb that was half the size of the previous one. “A dedicated witch might still summon it, but the cost will be higher than in other places.”

  To emphasize, she inhaled sharply, her shoulders tensing. Orion watched as veins stood out along her wrist.

  Did using mana impose a metabolic load? I haven’t noticed strain aside from what I would normally feel after a long period of concentration.

  She flicked her fingers in a curt gesture, whispering, “Let the night come.” The ambient light in the room dipped; the dark orb swelled to match the previous radius of the luminous one. Satisfied, Eire released the construct.

  “So,” she said, brushing stray strands of hair behind her ear, “ambient affinity influences efficiency, not possibility. A true mage transcends place, but rarely for free. Have you ever heard of something that might be explained by this phenomenon?”

  Hands shot up. Luna shared that she heard a merchant say sea mana smelled of saltwater; Dorian asked whether it was true that one could use mana to create infinite fruit juices when near an orchard, causing a round of laughter. Finally, Eire nodded toward Orion, who had patiently waited to be called upon.

  “Yes, Orion?”

  “If mana is ubiquitous and can be used as fuel,” he said, carefully arranging the ladder of logic aloud, “then we ought to quantify it. Is there a standard unit? What instrumentation measures concentration? How does liquid mana fit into this, and what does it mean that it can be extracted from the atmosphere?”

  The classroom fell silent. Eire’s gaze flickered with surprise, but also something cautious. She looked at him for a long moment before nodding.

  “Mana can be condensed into a physical medium, that is true. Specialists can draw it from the ambient into crucibles etched with binding sigils; the result is what we call liquid mana—or arcanum, in the older texts. We can weigh it and measure its volume. One dram of arcanum is considered to equal the requirement of a first-tier spell, though quality matters significantly. A vial found in the Sanctum’s stores might be enough for two or three such spells, while one bought in the markets of Silverpeak would barely allow for a single one.”

  She paced, her painted nails tapping against the desk. “But such measurements are fickle. Unless you have elaborate and expensive filters, impurities cling: residual light, dust of ice, slivers of emotion. Impure arcanum burns erratically, leaving spells weaker and less stable. That is why many who possess high-ranking magical classes disdain liquid mana except in specific rituals or potions, where consistency is less vital than sheer magnitude. Non-mages, whether blacksmiths, weavers, or herbalists, also find it useful. They wield mana sparingly and prefer a controllable stock.”

  Orion’s mind immediately returned to Garrick’s explanation about silverite. If anyone who wasn’t a master handled it, it could be compromised by impurities. Did that same principle apply to liquid mana?

  Eire continued, her voice softening. “There are many theories about its nature: whether mana behaves as a gas or a liquid, whether it carries heat like light or mass like earth. Scholars all over the Cyril Magocracy disagree. But remember—” Her gaze swept the class, lingering a beat longer upon Orion. “Mana is first a gift of the Goddess. Do not treat it merely as a substance to exploit. Handle it with reverence, and control will follow. Power is a consequence.”

  Orion nodded, setting the words of caution aside as calculations unfolded behind his eyes: if one dram powered a first-tier spell, what did that mean for his abilities? I need to spend some time putting together a measuring scale.

  Eire clapped once, and a hidden bell chimed. “Enough with the theory. In the following days, I will guide you through simple light spells.” A cheer rippled through the benches, as this was the first time they would be taught active magic.

  Luna complained that she could barely manage sparkles, worried about appearing weak, and Dorian muttered that the darkness mana had felt “itchy.” Selene only tilted her head, a faint curve lifting her lips as if amused by something the rest missed.

  “Dismissed,” Eire said. The room’s door opened on its own, and children filed out, whispering excitedly.

  Orion waited until the traffic disappeared, leaving just him and Eire as she packed her chalks.

  He almost asked Eire how one tested purity in liquid mana. How could such energy even allow for so many disparate effects? If it was even just a single energy, given what she had implied.

  But the teacher’s prior warning echoed: reverence first. She’s obviously well-learned, but I doubt she’ll appreciate me rushing things at this stage. Yes, I should get to know her more before seeking additional information.

  He thanked her instead, bowing with more formality than he usually did.

  He felt her gaze on his back as he left.