The academy felt heavier than usual. Not physically—magic still pulsed vibrantly in the air, and the weather outside was as mild as ever—but emotionally, the weight of the impending mid-semester exams had settled over every student like an invisible storm cloud.
Leon sat at his desk in the common room, staring at the open rune theory textbook in front of him. The words blurred together, their meanings slipping through his mind like water through his fingers. He sighed heavily, resting his chin on his hand.
Across the room, Mikel was leaning back in his chair, tossing a small rubber ball into the air with an air of complete disinterest. "What's the point of all this stress? It's just an exam. We do this, we survive, we move on to the next disaster."
"You're an idiot," Fiona said flatly, glancing up from her meticulously organized notebook. "Do you think anyone will want to hire a mage who can't pass his mid-semesters? Or one who calls exams a disaster?"
"Hey, survival is an underrated skill," Mikel shot back, catching the ball with a grin.
Talin, who had been sprawled across the couch, waved a hand lazily. "You two bicker like an old married couple. Can we please focus on the real problem here? Leon's been staring at the same page for half an hour."
Leon flushed, straightening slightly. "I'm... processing."
"Processing? Or panicking?" Fiona asked, arching an eyebrow.
Before Leon could stammer a reply, Rurik spoke up from his corner of the room, where he was carefully engraving runes into a wooden charm. "We're all feeling the pressure. Some of us just hide it better."
Fiona nodded. "Exactly. Which is why we need a study group. Properly organized, with a schedule, goals, and—"
"Absolutely not." Mikel cut her off, tossing his ball onto the table with a dramatic flourish. "Study groups are a trap. First, it's 'Oh, let's review this chapter,' and next thing you know, someone's crying because they forgot to annotate their notes."
Fiona rolled her eyes. "It's only a trap if you're an idiot."
"Then why are you inviting Mikel?" Talin quipped.
Leon couldn't help but chuckle, even as the knot of anxiety in his chest refused to loosen.
Despite Mikel's protests, Fiona quickly took control of the situation, drawing up a study schedule with military precision. They would review theory for an hour, break for mana control exercises, and finish with crafting practice.
The group reluctantly settled into their places, books and papers spread across the table. Fiona and Rurik took the lead, reviewing key concepts and correcting mistakes.
"Mana stabilization arrays operate by balancing external mana influx with internal reserves," Fiona explained, her voice steady and authoritative. "Leon, give an example of when you'd use one."
Leon hesitated, his mind blanking under the weight of her gaze. "Uh… in an enchanted barrier?"
"Correct," Fiona said, though her tone was a little less enthusiastic than Leon had hoped.
"Don't be too harsh on him," Mikel said, lazily flipping through his own notes. "Leon's improving. I mean, he didn't say 'magic shield thingy.'"
Fiona shot him a glare. "This is why I didn't want you in charge of this."
To no one's surprise, Mikel's participation was… unconventional. He spent most of the session doodling crude caricatures of Fiona scolding Talin or tossing out absurd hypothetical scenarios.
"What if," Mikel began, leaning forward with a grin, "we accidentally overload the mana stabilization array during an exam, and it explodes in the professor's face?"
"Then you fail," Rurik said without looking up from his carving.
"And get expelled," Fiona added, her tone exasperated.
Mikel shrugged. "Still, it'd be pretty funny."
Leon couldn't help but laugh, though he quickly stifled it under Fiona's withering glare.
While the others argued, Lyra remained silent, her golden eyes fixed on her own notes. Leon noticed her glancing in his direction occasionally, as if she was debating whether or not to say something.
Finally, during their mana control session, she approached him.
"You're still rushing it," she said quietly, kneeling beside him.
Leon blinked. "What?"
"Your mana flow," she explained, gesturing toward the glowing orb in front of him. "You're forcing it too hard. It's like trying to pour water into a cup with a lid on."
Leon frowned, looking at the orb. Its light flickered weakly, refusing to stabilize no matter how much he concentrated.
"Relax," Lyra said, placing her hand gently over his. "Feel it, don't force it. Let it flow naturally."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on her words. Slowly, the flickering steadied, the orb glowing faintly but consistently.
"There," Lyra said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Leon opened his eyes, a sense of relief washing over him. "Thanks. That… helps."
"Anytime," she said simply, returning to her seat.
By the time they wrapped up for the evening, Leon felt marginally better. The theory still felt like a mountain he couldn't climb, but at least the practical exercises were starting to make sense.
Fiona began gathering her notes, her expression one of quiet satisfaction. "That wasn't terrible. Maybe there's hope for us after all."
"Speak for yourself," Mikel said, tossing his rubber ball in the air again. "I've always been hopeful."
"Hopeful you can wing it and somehow pass," Talin muttered, earning a laugh from Rurik.
As the group dispersed, Leon lingered by the table, staring at his notes. He still felt the weight of his doubts, but for the first time in days, there was a glimmer of something else: determination.
"Don't overthink it," Lyra said softly as she passed by, her words lingering in the quiet room.
Leon nodded, gripping his notebook tightly. He wouldn't let them down.