Kaiswen, Ardesco school of magic, near the border of Bromaric, spring (1618 a.L)

The morning sun bathed Kaiswen in golden light, but for Raelyn, the warmth didn't reach her. Her mind was too occupied, too weighed down by her failures. For a week now, she'd followed the same routine-wake up before the sun, try to make Hovan laugh with one of her terrible jokes, and then spend hours meditating in the Hall of Prayer. Corix's instructions echoed in her mind every day, telling her to find her medial. Yet no matter how hard she tried, her mind remained a blank slate.

Raelyn pulled her white magus robes tighter against the morning chill as she stepped out of her chambers. Hovan was waiting just outside, as he always was, leaning against the wall with his usual air of detachment. He was sharpening his dagger with mechanical precision, the soft rasp of the whetstone breaking the silence of the corridor. His broad figure seemed carved from stone, and the scar that ran down the side of his head caught the morning light as he turned to glance at her.

She smiled to herself. Even if her mornings always began and ended with failure, she could at least look forward to her ritual with Hovan.

"Alright, try this one: What do you call a fish with no eyes?"

Hovan didn't even look up from his dagger.

"Fsh," she answered, grinning broadly and pausing for effect.

Nothing.

"Really?" she pressed, stepping closer. "Not even a groan? That's comedy gold, Hovan."

He finally glanced at her, his auburn eyes impassive. "Keardath sent for you," he said simply, sliding the dagger into its sheath.

Raelyn sighed. "You're impossible."

Hovan shrugged, turning and motioning for her to follow. As they made their way through the winding corridors of Ardesco, Raelyn stole a glance at him. His face was always so unreadable, as if he carried the weight of a hundred secrets. She wondered, not for the first time, what his life had been like before he came to Kaiswen.

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Keardath's office was a study in organized chaos. Books and scrolls lay scattered across his desk, interspersed with strange artifacts that hummed faintly with magic. The man himself, with his sharp eyes and salt-and-pepper beard, sat behind the desk, his expression warm yet authoritative.

"Raelyn," he said, gesturing for her to sit.

She perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"How are your lessons with Corix going?" he asked, leaning forward.

Raelyn hesitated. "I'm trying," she admitted finally. "But I can't... I can't find my medial. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Keardath studied her in silence for a moment. "And what has Corix told you?"

"That it should be easy for me," she said, frustration leaking into her voice. "Because I can channel ancient magic. But it's not easy. It's impossible."

Keardath's brow furrowed, and he leaned back in his chair. "It's not impossible," he said firmly. "You're simply approaching it without understanding why it should be easier for you."

He stood, moving to a nearby shelf and retrieving four small vials of colored liquid and a larger, empty flask. Placing them on the desk, he gestured for her to watch.

"These vials," he began, lifting one, "represent the four branches of magic-human, elven, dwarven, and dark." One by one, he poured the contents of the vials into the flask. The liquids swirled together, creating a shimmering, opalescent substance.

"This," he said, holding the flask aloft, "is ancient magic. The source of all magic. Raw, unfiltered, and powerful. What you're struggling with is understanding how this differs from the magic most magi use."

Raelyn tilted her head, intrigued.

Keardath pushed the flask toward her. "Now, try separating the liquids and putting them back into their vials."

Her eyes widened. "I... I can't. That's impossible."

"Exactly," Keardath said with a small smile. "That's the challenge for most magi. They must distill their power from ancient magic, breaking it into manageable forms and storing it in their medials. But you," he leaned forward, "don't need to distill. You can access the source directly."

Raelyn stared at the flask, her mind racing. "So... I just need to find the source inside me?"

Keardath nodded. "Exactly. Hold your locket when you meditate. Focus on its vibrations. Let them guide you to the place within yourself where the magic flows. When you find it, visualize it-give it form. Make it tangible in your mind."

She touched the locket around her neck, its faint glow a steady comfort. "I'll try," she said softly.

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The Hall of Prayer was quiet, its air heavy with reverence. Statues of the gods loomed above Raelyn, their stone faces serene and unyielding. Corix stood near the entrance, arms folded, his expression as skeptical as ever.

"You'll try," he repeated flatly, his tone devoid of hope. "Just like yesterday, and the day before that."

Raelyn ignored Corix's sharp tone, choosing instead to focus on the one thing that might lead her to success. She knelt on the cold stone floor, its chill seeping through her robes and into her knees. Her fingers curled tightly around the glowing locket, its faint warmth in stark contrast to the cold stone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and willed the outside world to melt away-the Hall, the towering statues, Corix's doubts. All of it faded into the background, leaving only the faint pulse of the locket in her hands.

At first, the vibrations were almost imperceptible, like the faintest ripple in still water. She strained to hold onto the sensation, but it was fleeting, slipping through her focus like grains of sand through her fingers. Frustration pricked at the edges of her concentration, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to listen deeper, to feel deeper.

Then, slowly, the rhythm grew stronger. A steady, resonant pulse throbbed against her skin, faint but unmistakable, like the beat of a distant drum. The sound wasn't just something she heard-it seemed to echo inside her, each beat rippling through her body like waves. She let herself sink into the rhythm, imagining the vibrations as threads of light pulling her inward.

The darkness behind her closed eyes shifted, deepened, and began to change. Shapes and colors danced in her mind, coalescing into something tangible. A sound like rushing water filled her ears, growing louder with each passing moment. And then, all at once, the vision came into focus.

She stood on the bank of a great river. The water was impossibly clear, its surface shimmering like liquid crystal as it reflected the faint glow of the ancient trees surrounding it. The air smelled fresh, clean, with a faint sweetness that reminded her of blooming flowers. The river hummed softly, the sound resonating with the rhythm she had followed. She realized the hum matched the pulse of her locket perfectly, as though the two were one and the same.

Raelyn stepped forward, her bare feet sinking into the soft, mossy ground. The texture was cool and comforting, grounding her as she gazed at the river's flow. Without hesitation, she waded in, the water cool against her skin as it rose to her knees. It was gentle yet insistent, tugging at her like an unseen current leading her toward something greater.

Each step deeper into the river sent a tingling sensation up her legs. The water felt alive, not just a part of the landscape but a force in its own right, urging her onward. The trees around her seemed to shift and sway, though there was no breeze. Their branches, heavy with glowing leaves, whispered softly in a language she couldn't understand but felt in her soul.

The current quickened as she followed the river downstream, her steps becoming more deliberate. The sound of the rushing water grew louder, but it didn't overwhelm her; instead, it seemed to align with her heartbeat, urging her forward. She felt the pull strengthen, as though the river knew exactly where it was taking her.

The river's flow began to slow as she approached a clearing, where the trees grew thicker, their trunks forming a natural archway. Beyond it, she saw the source of the river-a small, pristine spring, its waters bubbling up gently from the earth. A layer of delicate mist hung over the surface, swirling in lazy spirals, as though stirred by an unseen hand.

Raelyn stepped into the clearing, her breath catching at the sight. The spring was surrounded by a perfect circle of ancient trees, their roots entwined as if protecting the sacred space. Though no sun hung in the sky, a soft, golden light cascaded down from above, bathing the clearing in a warm glow. The air here was thicker, charged with a subtle energy that made her skin prickle.

She waded into the spring, the water lapping gently at her ankles. Unlike the river, this place was still, serene, its surface undisturbed. She bent down, cupping her hands to feel the water, and a surge of warmth shot through her fingertips. It wasn't just water-it was energy, alive and pulsing, and it coursed through her as if it had been waiting for her all along.

This was it. The source. Her medial.

Her heart swelled with awe and relief. She knelt in the center of the spring, letting the energy flow around her, through her, becoming a part of her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt whole, as though she had found a missing piece of herself.