"You were perfectly safe," Castra began.
Isha opened her mouth to protest, but the other woman raised her hand, stopping her.
"Let me explain," she said, pointing at the illusion she had conjured with her wand. "This reservoir of water is like Magicore. When someone reaches their Magicore and achieves Practitioner class, it's like opening the gates of this dam."
As Castra spoke, the illusory dam before them came to life. The gates opened and a gentle stream of water began to flow through the channels. The flow of the water wasn't steady, sometimes it was powerful, other times a trickle.
"The flow of mana for Practitioners is like that—a state of constant flux, making it strainfull to cast spells no matter how large your mana pool. But this dam acts as a safeguard for any Practitioner from using more Mana than they can handle."
Isha looked out of the window, becoming interested in the tall grass that covered the landscape, swaying in the breeze. "So, I was never in danger?"
"Indeed. Why your parents didn't tell you, this is beyond me," Castra replied with a hint of amusement.
Isha flushed, she didn't know what to say after her pointless outburst from before.
"Shall I continue, we are only halfway through the explanation?"
Isha nodded.
"When you advance to High Practitioner, the fluctuation in your mana flow disappears—" the water flowing through the gates of the dam became steady "-reducing the strain of spell casting significantly. The dam is still there, so you are safe."
"Things change when you advance to a Mage class. The dam disappears, giving you unrestrained control over your mana—" the dam disappeared in the image, but some unseen force kept the water from flooding the plains, "-The mana truly becomes yours. That is what it means to be a Mage. But with the dam gone the only thing keeping the water from flooding the land is your restraint. Do you understand?"
Isha nodded.
The illusion winked out.
***
As the carriage rattled onward, Castra explained the fundamental principles of magic and the tactical applications of spells in combat—things she already knew.
What piqued her interest was the real life example she used, describing legendary duels and battles of mages whose names were immortalised in the pages of history for their exploits. These were the individuals who had shaped the foundation of the Empire they now lived in.
Castra was far more reverent when she explained Laras Windsnow's accomplishments—a Mage dead over three Millennia ago. Yet, her name still echoed across magical history, a true legend indeed.
"Without her," Castra muttered, absentmindedly, her eyes burning with respect. "Magic would still be shrouded in mysticism only to be used by nobility."
Isha understood her reverence, it was the actions of Laras that now allowed people from humble beginnings—like Castra—could pursue to become a Scholar of Magic.
Castra changed her topic to the Entrance exam for Black Coral Academy and how she would train her to excel at it. My, but the woman did hop from topic to topic like a toad, never lingering on one topic for long.
"And what about healing magic?" Isha Cut in, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Will you teach me that as well?"
Castra's expression hardened, the tone of her answer mirroring her annoyance at the interruption. "Healing magic is... complicated. Mistakes can be costly. I only know rudimentary healing and am not qualified to teach others."
Isha's face fell. "Oh. I understand."
"Do not be disheartened, girl. You can choose three majors for your studies at the academy, healing among them," she said in a soothing voice, before replacing it with brook no nonsense expression. "And do not interrupt me again."
She had hoped to master healing magic alongside her training in battle spells, but she could at least learn it at the academy, if she passed the entrance exam that was. That had to be enough.
***
Isha saw a signboard outside that told them they had just crossed the border of Naiker's Field. The landscape outside the carriage blurred as they travelled deeper into the county. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rolling hills.
Castra had stopped lecturing her an hour ago, ending with her training schedule, and was now asleep in her seat.
When Isha Isha reached to close the shutter of the carriage window, she noticed a flicker of movement in the tall grass beside the road—a lethargic shadow that vanished out of sight. That was definitely a wounded person. Her heart skipped a beat, immediately jumping into action.
She slid open the speakeasy window and shouted at the carriage driver. "Stop! There's something there!"
The driver reined in the horses, bringing the carriage to a halt. Castra stirred awake from her sleep.
Without hesitation, Isha leaped from the carriage and sprinted toward the spot where she had seen the movement. The grass rustled underfoot as she pushed through, her pulse quickening with each step. The wagon driver followed behind.
She had to search the area for a while before she saw her—only a few years older than Isha, lying spread-eagled amidst the wet grass. The girl's armour shimmered like a purple diamond under the setting sun. Her armour had multiple holes in them, as if someone had drilled through them to reach flesh. Blood pooled from each hole.
Isha narrowed her eyes. That was no ordinary armour, it was a carapace growing out of skin. She was a Cniad. Isha frowned, no, that wasn't right either. The unconscious girl had human flesh beneath that carapace armour. A half-cniad then.
Isha turned to the carriage-driver. "Help me carry her. Perhaps master Castra can help her."
When they reached the carriage, Castra was stepping out of the carriage, massaging her groggy eyes. "What happened? Why did we stop?"
Isha pointed at the Cniad girl carried in the driver's arms. "Can you help her?"
Castra's eyes sharpened immediately. "Quickly, take her inside, I'll see what I can do."