The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thick curtains of Klarion’s room, bathing the space in a soft golden hue. He blinked awake slowly, stretching as he did so. The events of the previous day briefly replayed in his mind, and he remembered he was not alone.
Turning his head, Klarion was greeted by the sight of Hatsune. She lay curled up on the couch still, her head resting against one arm and her legs tucked beneath her. Despite the alertness and composed demeanor of yesterday, she looked peaceful and relaxed in sleep. Her silver hair spilled over her shoulder in loose waves, catching the morning light like strands of moonlight. Klarion couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, he’d slept deeply and without worry. Perhaps he was getting used to the new environment, or maybe it was the silent reassurance of having Hatsune nearby.
He rose quietly, careful not to disturb her, and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time he emerged, Hatsune was beginning to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched gracefully.
“Good morning, Hatsune,” he said as her eyes shifted over to his bed and then to where he stood. “I hope you slept well?”
“I… did.” She seemed almost surprised in her response.
After directing her to the bathroom and giving her the space to get dressed in her armor, they made their way to the kitchen, where they shared a simple breakfast of fruit, bread, and honey. Hatsune ate sparingly, her movements efficient and deliberate, while he savored each bite, excitement bubbling within him for the day ahead.
Today was the day he’d attend his first class in Essence Studies, the one subject he’d been looking forward to above all others. Magic — real magic — felt tantalizingly close, and he couldn’t wait to dive in.
After breakfast, they left the manor, Klarion only pausing to lock up behind themselves, then made their way down the streets that were gradually becoming familiar to him. The air gradually began to buzz with anticipation as other students began to appear with their own bodyguards, hurrying along to their own classes. Hatsune walked a step behind Klarion, her eyes scanning their surroundings with a sharpness that contrasted with her earlier calm demeanor.
Soon a familiar tall building came into view. He remembered the large spire covered in magical lights of some sort that J-65 had shown him the other day. Today, they flickered between red and green spheres as he watched, almost reminding him of a Christmas tree. The closer they got, the more the air began to feel charged with some kind of energy, but once they passed through the main entrance, the charge fell away.
When they reached the classroom where Essence Studies would be held, Klarion’s breath caught as soon as they went inside. The room was vast, easily rivaling the size of the Foundations of History classroom, but with an entirely different atmosphere. Shelves of books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each shelf packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, or more modern-looking books that radiated an almost palpable energy. The center of the room was dominated by a series of concentric rings carved into the stone floor, each inscribed with intricate runes. A faint glow emanated from the carvings, shifting much like the lights had outside.
Hatsune’s gaze swept the room briefly before she gestured to a side door. “I’ll wait in the adjoining room with the other bodyguards,” she said. “Call if you need anything.”
Klarion absently nodded, his attention already drifting back to the wonders around him. He stepped into the classroom and looked for an empty seat. Rows of desks were arranged in a semi-circle facing the carved rings on the floor and the blackboards on the far wall. Students had already begun to fill the seats, but no one that he recognized. He found an empty seat near the middle and settled in, pulling out the notebook he had borrowed from Hector.
Gradually, the room began to fill, bodyguards leaving their scions to find their seats. The lecture hall buzzed with the low hum of conversations as students filled the rows, their chatter ranging from excited speculation to indifferent complaints about the early hour. But the noise dimmed as the door at the back of the room slammed open with a resounding bang, a man in a long black coat sweeping inside. What was it with these professors and doors?
The idle thought fled as Klairon got a look at the man. His sharp, chiseled features were set in a scowl, and his brown eyes gleamed with irritation. He muttered a string of phrases under his breath, his words barely audible but steeped in frustration. Klarion only caught the last of what he said. Something about him being a prodigy of the Essences of Air and Fire, reduced to babysitting fledglings. The man strode purposely to the front of the room, ignoring the curious and occasionally angry glances cast his way. Apparently, Klarion had not been the only one to hear some of what he had said.
One student near the front — a gangly boy with a mop of unruly brown hair — was spinning a pencil between his fingers, leaning back precariously in his chair as he laughed at a joke whispered to him by a student in a neighboring seat.
The professor stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping to the boy. Without a word, he raised his hand and made a sharp beckoning motion. A gust of wind swirled through the room, invisible but powerful, yanking the student from his tilted chair. With a startled yelp, the boy was lifted into the air and unceremoniously deposited back into his seat, pencil clattering to the floor. The room fell silent.
“Sit properly,” the man said, his voice a growl that carried to every corner of the room. “Or the next time, you’ll find yourself stuck to the ceiling.”
Satisfied, he turned back to the stunned students and approached the chalkboard. With swift, almost aggressive movements, he scrawled his name across the board in large, jagged letters:
Professor Darion Stormcloak
Beneath his name, he scribbled a list:
Essence
Magic
Abilities
Skills
He then tossed the piece of chalk onto where he had picked it up with a sharp click and turned to face the class, his arms crossed over his thin chest.
“My name is Professor Darion Stormcloak. Welcome to Essence Studies,” he began, his voice filled with disdain. “For most of you, this will be the most important class you’ll ever take. For the rest of you… well, I’m sure the Empire always needs new fodder for its wars.” His lips curled at the uneasy rustle that ran through the room.
“Essences,” he continued, pacing in front of the board, “are the building blocks of existence. They permeate everything — the air you breathe, the ground beneath your feet, the fire that burns, the water that flows. They are the threads from which the tapestry of the System’s Multiverse is woven. And for those of us with the will and the wit to master them, they are power.”
He stopped and swept his gaze over the students, his eyes narrowing. “Magic is the art of manipulating these Essences, bending them to your will. Whether through raw talent, disciplined training, or sheer stubbornness, those who can harness Essences gain access to power that sets them apart. They inevitably rise to the peak of warriors, healers, scholars, rulers — or, in the hands of fools, corpses.”
“Magic and Essences,” he continued, “are often conflated by the unlearned and the foolish. To do so is to misunderstand the very foundation of power itself. Today, we shall correct this error so that you don’t make this mistake as well. I would encourage you to take notes on this next part.”
The rustling of papers and packs spread throughout the classroom as students that hadn’t already been taking notes pulled out notebooks and pencils to do so. While Klarion had thought ahead, he also recognized that he would need to find a school supply store sooner rather than later. The one notebook Hector had given him wouldn’t likely be long enough to hold all the notes he would need to take.
“Imagine,” Professor Stormcloak said as the rustling died down, “a manmade water channel. It is designed with purpose, and constructed of various parts and components to direct water where it is needed. Its paths are limited, and its function determined by its builders. This is magic.” He paused, eyes scanning the room for understanding before continuing. “Now, imagine the ocean. Vast, untamed, and boundless. It operates on principles no mortal can fully control or fathom. This is Essence.”The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Klarion hurriedly jotted down his notes, and took an additional moment to draw some crude drawings of a water channel and a circle with squiggles to represent the waves on an ocean. All the students around him were taking notes as well.
“Magic,” Professor Stormcloak said, starting to pace, “is a tool. It is utility made manifest. With effort and study, many people — be they peasant or noble — can learn to wield it. Fireballs, healing spells, illusions — these are constructs of magic, bound by strict rules and reliant on an external source of power called mana.” He muttered under his breath, then flicked his wrist, causing a small flame to appear in his palm, where it danced lazily before extinguishing itself. “But it is limited. Magic is finite, constrained by the knowledge and creativity of its user.”
He stopped, his sharp gaze jumping from student to student, driving home the importance of what he was saying. “While a significant part of this class will be devoted to providing you training in magic, it is Essence where true power lies, and thus why the course is labeled as such. It is intrinsic, tied to the very nature of the individual. Unlike magic, Essences cannot be borrowed or directly taught; they must be awakened. And once awakened at the highest levels, it allows for feats that magic could never achieve.”
Professor Stormcloak raised a hand again, and the air around him seemed to shimmer. For a brief moment, the space between him and the sitting students seemed to twist, giving glimpses of something just out of view. Then it was gone, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.
“Essence is not bound by the rules of magic. It is a reflection of one’s soul, one’s being, and it grows alongside you, unlocking abilities unique to the specific Essence. Whether you are aligned with Fire, Shadow, Storm, or some other Essence, it will shape the limits of your potential. ”
“But if it can’t be directly taught,” an elven scion near the front spoke up, “then why have it as part of this class? Why not just a class focused on magic?”
“A good question,” Professor Stormcloak nodded. “Just because I cannot teach you an Essence directly, doesn’t mean that knowledge and exposure to what Essences are capable of is not useful. It might well help contribute to you being able to unlock your own. There just is no one-size-fits-all approach for everyone. Beyond this class, here at the Academy, you are granted access to resources that are the envy of the Empire. The libraries, training grounds, and professors at your disposal are unparalleled. With these, each of you should be able to awaken at least one Essence before your graduation. If you do not,” his voice grew cold, “you will not graduate. Period.”
Klarion’s fingers brushed the edge of his desk, tapping lightly as his mind worked through the implications of what the professor was saying. Apparently, beyond the class he needed to graduate to the second year, to graduate from the Academy itself, he would need to unlock an Essence of some sort. He wrote down a brief bulleted list of ideas of how he could begin pursuing an Essence at the same time he was looking into a class to unlock. The Central Archive was at the top of the list.
“Professor!” a voice interrupted from the back of the classroom, but Klarion couldn’t tell who was speaking from where he sat until a young woman with red hair raised her hand. “What about skills and abilities? How do they fit into all of this?”
“An astute question as well,” Professor Stormcloak said, his tone measured. “Let me clarify. Skills and abilities are distinct from both Magic and Essence. A skill is something anyone can learn through effort and repetition. Swordsmanship, potion-making, advanced mathematics — these are skills. They are not tied to your Essence or your class.” He tapped the lecturne as he stepped back to it. “Abilities, on the other hand, are a different matter entirely. An ability is an innate capability that can only be unlocked via specific classes. For example, a Shadow Stalker, a class of the Rogue sub-type, may gain the ability to meld into darkness, while a Storm Sage, a class of the Mage sub-type, may gain the ability to call lightning from the sky. While it is possible to mimic these abilities to a lesser degree with the proper application of higher-ranking magic, they are still not something that you can learn without the required classes. ”
The red-haired girl frowned. “But what if someone trains hard enough? Couldn’t they —”
“No,” the Professor interrupted. “No amount of training can replace the fundamental connection between classes and abilities. It is as futile as trying to breathe underwater without gills.”
The student sank into her seat, chastened but with a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Now, are there any additional questions on Essences?”
A hand shot up from the opposite side in the back of the hall. A wiry young man with sharp features and a skeptical expression stood before the professor could acknowledge him. “Professor,” he began, “are there any forbidden Essences? Ones so dangerous or vile that they are outlawed?”
Klarion looked back down at Professor Stormcloak. The professor’s expression didn’t change, but a glint of something — perhaps approval — flashed in his eyes.
“Forbidden?” the professor repeated, as though tasting the word. “No. Just as with knowledge, forbidding an Essence would achieve nothing but make it more desirable. Within the Empire, no Essence is off-limits for those with the affinity to attain it. Even the darkest of Essences, such as Disease and Death, are not barred. Power is neither good nor evil, it is the intent behind its use that matters. Now, any final questions?”
When no one else spoke up, Professor Stormcloak snapped his fingers, and a series of clear orbs rose from a shelf at the side of the room. The orbs floated through the air, carried by invisible currents, and gently settled on each student’s desk. The orbs were perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, their surfaces reflecting the light of the room.
“These are Assessment Orbs,” Professor Stormcloak said, his tone brisk. “Their purpose is simple: to help you identify potential Essences within you. For some vanishingly few of you, they may glow immediately, reacting to an Essence you’ve already begun to manifest. For the vast majority, they will remain inert for now. That does not mean you are incapable. It simply means that you have yet to tap into the power that surrounds you.”
He leaned against the edge of his lectern, surveying the room. “Your task is to spend time with these orbs outside of class. Focus on them. Meditate. Seek out Essences in your environment. Feel the hum of the air, the warmth of the sun, the solidity of the earth. The more you work to attune yourself, the greater your chances of awakening an Essence.”
Academy Assignment - Essences of Being
Professor Stormcloak has told you to spend time with your new Assessment Orb. Meditate upon it, trying to feel the existence of Essences around you. Successfully doing so will unlock a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you. Good luck unlocking the keys of existence.
Conditions for Success: Unlock at least one Essence. Use the Assessment Orb (Optional).
Rewards for Completion: Your first Essence.
Accept: Yes/Yes
After accepting the latest Academy Assignment, Klarion’s attention turned to see a hand raised in the back row. Once she saw that Professor Stormcloak was looking at her, she took that as permission to speak. “Professor, based on what the Academy Assignment said, are these Assessment Orbs not necessary to unlocking an Essence of our own? Do we need to unlock one to progress in our studies?”
“Necessary? No,” Professor Stormcloak replied, his tone clipped. “But advisable? Absolutely. Unlocking an Essence is not required to gain a class, but it is crucial for unlocking classes of higher rarity and power. And those classes — the rare, the epic, the legendary — are what separate the scions who will become great pillars of the Empire from those who will remain mediocre.”\
The Professor straightened and began pacing again. “Now, as I was saying. Essences influence everything — not just magic, but warfare, governance, and the very structure of society. A ruler at the peak of their power who commands the Essence of Water can bring prosperity to their lands through irrigation and trade. An elite legionnaire who wields the Essence of Fire can turn the tide of battle with a single, devastating spell. Understanding and mastering Essences is the key to power in this Multiverse. And if you don’t understand that… then you’ve already failed.”
As he spoke, he turned to move over to the shelves on the left side of the room. He ran a hand down the spine of a particularly ancient-looking tome. “The knowledge contained within these walls is unparalleled except by the other Imperial Academies and the Imperial Capital. Nothing is free, however. To access these tomes and the training this Academy has to offer beyond the minimum will require Knowledge coins or, in some cases, various Seals. With enough of each, you can purchase access to advanced training, rare materials, and even personalized instruction. This system ensures that only those who are truly dedicated thrive here. Now, any final question?”
The same red-headed girl from earlier spoke up. “Professor, what’s your Essence?”
A slow smile spread across Stormcloak’s face, the first true one in the entire session. He extended his hand, palm up, and a small whirlwind of air spiraled above it, crackling with tongues of flame that danced and intertwined.
“I am a prodigy of the Essences of Air and Fire,” he said, voice full of pride. “And with them, I have accomplished feats most of you can only dream of. But do not think for a moment that this came without effort. Despite how easy these Essences came to me, the power I have now had to be earned. And if you’re not willing to put in the work, like I did, then you will be wasting my time in this class.”
The whirlwind dissipated with a snap of his fingers, and Stormcloak crossed his arms, his expression back to neutral.
“Now,” he said, “spend the next few minutes familiarizing yourselves with the orbs. Focus on them. See if you can feel even the faintest whisper of an Essence. And remember: this is only the beginning. The path to Essences is one that is long and arduous, and I have no patience for the lazy or the faint-hearted. In the next class, I will lead you in some basic exercises to use magic. Dismissed.”