Anton had already noticed that when night fell onto the University, it would get louder rather than quieter.
As darkness descended, the University transformed into a vibrant tapestry of magical life and youthful energy. Students congregated everywhere - from the grand marble halls echoing with animated discussions, to cozy common areas where groups huddled around floating light orbs, to dormitory rooms where study sessions inevitably devolved into storytelling and laughter.
Even the usually hushed library buzzed with quiet activity, its ancient shelves witness to impromptu study groups and whispered conversations. The laboratories hummed with late-night experiments, magical energies crackling as dedicated students pursued their research long after classes had ended.
But the social heart of the University beat strongest after sunset. Various magical societies and clubs had set up enchanted displays that floated through the corridors - shimmering illusions advertising everything from the "Experimental Spellcraft Society" to the "Magical Creatures Conservation Club." Their magical advertisements danced through the air, filling the floating island with a carnival-like atmosphere of color and motion. Laughter and excited chatter echoed from every corner of the campus, carried on winds that whirled around the floating landmass.
Yet tonight, Anton felt strangely disconnected from it all.
Perhaps it was the weight of the day's events pressing down on his thoughts, or simply the bone-deep exhaustion that came from channeling so much Mana.
As he wandered the halls, the cacophony of student life seemed to fade into a distant murmur, as if he were hearing it from underwater. The faces of passing students blurred into indistinct shapes, their voices muffled and far away. His attention kept drifting to the ancient torches that lined the corridors, their flames dancing with an otherworldly grace.
These weren't ordinary torches - they were as old as the University itself, enchanted with magic that responded to the natural cycle of day and night. Their flames shifted through a spectrum of colors, marking time's passage with chromatic precision. In the harsh light of noon, they burned with the fierce orange of summer sun. At dawn, they awakened with deep crimson, like blood seeping into the sky. Now, as evening settled its mantle over the floating campus, the flames had taken on a mesmerizing ocean blue - the exact shade of twilight reflecting off still waters. As night would deepen, so too would their color, until they burned with the deep, mysterious blue of midnight.
He wasn't quite sure where he was going. He just knew that he needed a quiet place to think, something to distract himself from today's events. He wandered through the corridors, his mind a jumble of thoughts and questions. Maybe it was time to lock himself in his dorm room again.
His wandering eventually led him to a heavy wooden door, tucked away in a quiet corner of the upper floors. He didn't know why he was drawn to it, but he felt compelled to push it open. The ancient brass handle was cool to the touch as he turned it, the hinges creaking softly as he pushed the door open. A gentle night breeze brushed past him as he stepped through the doorway onto one of the University's many balconies. A refreshing, and much needed, breeze.
From this height, he could see the entire floating campus spread out below, its buildings glowing with thousands of blue-flamed torches. Beyond that, a sea of stars stretched endlessly in every direction, unobstructed by the usual haze of city lights. The Earth's Staff glimmered softly in the distance, its light casting a golden glow over the floating campus. Birds and other mystical creatures fluttered through the air, their silhouettes dark against the stars and the clear night sky.
Anton settled onto one of the stone benches, pulling out the Manaector from his backpack. He wasn't sure why he was doing this, but it also felt like there was nothing else to do.
He placed it in front of him, and the crystal orb came alive with a mesmerizing blue flame. Unlike normal fire, this flame moved with an otherworldly grace - sometimes stretching like ribbons of light, other times condensing into a tight, brilliant core.
There was something hauntingly familiar about the ethereal flame - a distant memory he couldn't quite grasp, like trying to recall a dream upon waking. He found himself mesmerized by its dance, his eyes growing heavy as he watched the hypnotic movements. Just as they began to close...
"Not hungry either, huh?" a familiar voice broke through his reverie, making him start.
Anton looked up to find Frank leaning against the doorway, a steaming thermos in his hands. His brother's usual energetic demeanor was subdued, dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. Even his normally serious posture had given way to a weary slump against the doorframe.
"I just needed some fresh air," Anton replied, his voice still tinged with exhaustion. "How did you find me?"
"I didn't. I also needed some fresh air, and something drew me to this balcony," Frank replied. "Kind of a coincidence, huh?"
His brother crossed the balcony and lifted the thermos.
"**Traxia.**"
A magic circle formed around his wrist and rotated as he gestured, the steaming tea flowing out in a graceful arc before cascading neatly into two cups. The familiar scent of Frank's calming tea blend wafted up - chamomile, lavender, and something distinctly magical that made the steam spiral in lazy patterns.
Frank offered one to him. "Looks like it has become a tradition, huh?"
"Thanks," Anton murmured, accepting the cup. The warmth seeped into his hands, grounding him.
Frank settled onto the bench beside him, both brothers looking out at the star-filled expanse. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sharing the kind of quiet moment that had become rare for them for almost a decade.
"Remember when we used to stargaze back home?" Frank finally asked, his voice soft with nostalgia. "Dad would point out all the constellations, and you'd bring up the complete story of each one, how they were named, and what they meant to the people of the past."
Anton smiled faintly. "And you'd always fall asleep halfway through, in Mother's lap."
"Hey, those stories were long," Frank chuckled. "And you had to include every single scientist and their theories..."
A comfortable silence fell between them again. The night breeze carried the faint sounds of student life from below - distant laughter, the occasional burst of magical energy, the soft chiming of enchanted bells and instruments.
"You know," Frank said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "I've been thinking about what Dad used to say. About how magic isn't just about power or knowledge - it's about understanding yourself." He paused, swirling the remaining tea in his cup. "I didn't really get it back then, but being here... I think I'm starting to."
Anton nodded slowly, watching the steam rise from his cup in intricate patterns. "Everything's different now, isn't it? Not just the magic, but..." He gestured vaguely at the floating campus around them.
"Yeah," Frank agreed. "But some things stay the same." He bumped his shoulder against Anton's. "Like you overthinking everything."
"I'm starting to think that I'm not thinking enough," Anton admitted. "I'm just reacting to everything that's happening. At least today, I was just reacting."
"Yeah, I saw you almost blow up a wall in the classroom I was in. If that is thinking, I'm Newton himself." Frank looked at him with a grin. "Crazy day for you too, I guess?"
Anton sighed, ruffling his hair. "That stunt got me a lecture from the Headmaster. Now I'm going to have to be a... kind of assistant to the University, I guess."
"You'll be fine," Frank reassured him. "You're smart, and you're resourceful. You'll figure it out. And if anything bad happens, I'll be here to help you."
"Thanks, Frank," Anton murmured, his heart lifting a little. "I just... I feel like I'm missing something important. Like there's this bigger picture I can't quite see."
"You remember what Dad used to tell you?" Frank smiled, looking up at the stars. "'Anton, sometimes you need to do more and think less. Stuff happens even if you're not done thinking.'"
Anton let out a quiet laugh. "I always hated that phrase."
"Because you knew he was right," Frank said, taking another sip of his tea. "Remember that time you spent three weeks planning the perfect treehouse? Drawing blueprints, calculating load-bearing weights..."
"And you just started nailing boards together one day," Anton finished, shaking his head. "I was so angry at you."
"But we ended up building it together," Frank reminded him. "Your plans, my action. It was the best treehouse in the neighborhood."
Anton stared into his cup, watching the remaining tea leaves swirl. "Until that storm took it down."
"Hey, it lasted two whole years. That's pretty good for a couple of kids." Frank paused, his voice growing softer. "Dad was so proud of us working together on that. He kept that picture of us up in his study until..."
The words hung in the air, unfinished. Both brothers knew what came after - the empty study, the crying nights, the years of loneliness that followed.
"I miss him," Anton said quietly. "I miss how he always knew what to say, even when I didn't want to hear it."
Frank nodded. "He'd probably tell you right now that you're doing that thing again - getting lost in your head instead of living in the moment." He gestured at the Manaector still glowing softly between them. "Maybe sometimes life is like that treehouse. You don't need to understand everything perfectly before you go ahead."
Anton considered this, watching the blue flames dance in the crystal. "Maybe you're right. But everything right now feels bigger than a treehouse, Frank. It feels..."
"Scary?" Frank suggested. "Unknown? That's okay, you know. But you don't have to figure it all out alone anymore." He placed a hand on Anton's shoulder. "We're both here now. Together. Like we should have been all along."
The night breeze picked up, carrying with it the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers from the University's gardens. The blue flames of the distant torches seemed to dance in response, as if agreeing with Frank's words.
"Together," Anton repeated, and for the first time that day, he felt the knot of anxiety in his chest begin to loosen. Maybe he didn't need to understand everything right now.
Maybe, like their father always said, sometimes you just needed to do more and think less.
The brothers sat in comfortable silence, finishing their tea under the endless expanse of stars, each lost in their own thoughts but somehow more connected than they had been in years.
As Anton finished his tea, he looked at the Manaector once again. Then he noticed that there was a small message on the ground beneath it. He bent down to move it aside. The message glowed a very faint, very dim pink, like a memory refusing to fade. Anton's fingers trembled slightly as they traced the familiar curves of his father's handwriting, the XOXO rune at the end pulsing faintly at his touch.
'See me here tomorrow, XOXO.'
"Wait. What?" Anton exclaimed, looking at his brother. "Hey, come take a look at this."
"What?" Frank asked, looking down at the message. "That's... that's Dad's handwriting. He even signed it with that terrible XOXO rune."
Frank stood up and looked around the balcony. "Hey Anton. I think that this balcony might also be another tradition of our family."
Anton stared at the faint pink message, his fingers tracing the familiar curves of his father's handwriting. The XOXO rune at the end was unmistakable - their father had used it on every note he'd ever written to their mother, claiming it was the first piece of magic he'd created just for her.
"Do you think..." Anton's voice trailed off, his mind racing with possibilities.
Frank nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "This must have been their spot when they were students here." He looked around the balcony with new eyes. "Maybe that's why we both felt drawn here tonight."
Anton stood up, walking to the balcony's edge. "Dad never talked much about his time at the University. And Mom..." He paused, swallowing hard. "We never got the chance to ask her about it."
"But they were here," Frank said quietly, joining his brother. "Right here, probably having the same kinds of conversations we just had." He chuckled softly. "Maybe Dad was even overthinking things, just like you do."
The Manaector's blue flame seemed to pulse gently, as if responding to their discovery. Anton stared at the runes, his mind fluttering in circles.
"You know what this means, right?" Frank asked, a familiar mischievous glint in his eye.
Anton raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"We have to keep the tradition going." Frank pulled out his wand and traced a pattern in the air. "Luminesca Scribus."
A small, golden light appeared at the tip of his wand. With careful movements, he began to write in the ground - the wand leaving glowing trails that slowly settled onto the stone beside their father's old message:
'Do more and think less. Stuff happens even if you're not done thinking.'
Anton watched the words shimmer and settle, feeling something shift inside him. Here, surrounded by the echo of his parents' love story and his brother's steady presence, the weight of the day's events seemed to lift slightly.
"Come on," Frank said, gathering up their empty tea cups. "It's getting late, and knowing you, you probably have a hundred new things to overthink now."
Anton smiled, taking one last look at the messages glowing softly in the starlight. "For once," he said, "I think I'm okay with not thinking too much about it."
He picked up the Manaector and watched as the flames dimmed and faded away with his touch. He would have sighed but didn't feel the need to right now.
As they left the balcony, the blue flames of the torches seemed to flicker in farewell, and the night breeze carried the faintest whisper of old memories and new beginnings.