The practice wand trembled in Zeph Cooper's hand as he faced the standard-issue crystal target. Twenty other students lined the practice hall of Everweave Academy, their wands steady, their spells precise. Light flashed across the chamber as target after target lit up with successful hits, each burst of magic adding to the symphony of power that made Zeph's skin tingle with sensitivity he couldn't explain.
All except his target remained dark.
"Focus, Mr. Cooper." Professor Kendrick's voice carried no mockery, only resignation. She adjusted her scarred hands on her cane – a reminder of her days hunting creatures in the Wound Zones. "Channel your energy through the focusing crystal, just as your textbook describes. Page 47, Standard Practices for Beginners, remember?"
Zeph adjusted his grip on the worn practice wand for the hundredth time. Sterling Corp's logo had nearly rubbed off its handle, though the mandatory safety warnings remained clear: "WARNING: Use only as directed. Unauthorized modifications void warranty and may result in magical instability." Below that, in smaller text: "By using this product, you agree to comply with all House Sterling safety protocols."
*Channel through the crystal. Through, not around.* He took a deep breath, trying to force his magic into the rigid path the wand prescribed. The crystal hummed, resisting him like it always did. Every other student said casting felt natural, like breathing. For Zeph, it felt like trying to write with his foot while wearing a blindfold.
The magic was everywhere – that was the problem. He could feel it swirling in currents around the room, sense how it flowed differently through each student's wand. Some were bright and sharp, others smooth and steady. But when he tried to match their techniques, to force his magic through the standardized crystal matrix, everything went sideways.
"Having trouble, Cooper?" Raven Mitchell didn't even look away from her target as she called out. Her crystal blazed with another perfect hit, the magic moving through her premium-grade wand like lightning through a conductor. "Maybe if you spent less time staring at your wand and more time practicing the prescribed forms..."
A few students snickered. Next to Raven, her friend Dex Walsh made a show of checking his own practice scores. "Hey Mitchell, reckon he'll break 15 points this time? I've got five credits saying he won't."
"That's not very sporting," another student chimed in. "Better make it ten credits. Give Cooper some real motivation."
Zeph ignored them, closing his eyes to concentrate. The magic was there – Ancestors, was it there. He could feel it swirling around him, through him, an ocean of potential. It sang in his blood, whispered in his bones. But the moment he tried to channel it through the wand's crystal, everything went wrong. It was like trying to pour an ocean through a drinking straw.
He opened his eyes, adjusted his stance to match the diagram in *Foundations of Modern Magic* perfectly, and tried again. The practice wand's crystal flickered weakly. Around him, he sensed his classmates' magic moving in orderly, prescribed patterns – except his refused to flow that way. It wanted to spiral, to dance, to follow paths he couldn't explain but somehow knew were right.
"Time's up," Professor Kendrick announced. "Results, please."
The magical scoreboards flickered to life above each target. Numbers appeared, measuring power, precision, and control. Raven's score: 98.5, with a notation marking her for advanced placement consideration. Others ranged from 70s to 80s. A few ambitious students had broken 90.
Zeph's score: 12.4.
"Better than last week, Mr. Cooper," Professor Kendrick said, though her attempt at encouragement fell flat. "You've improved by... zero point three points."
"Looks like I win the bet," Dex announced loudly. "As usual."
"Mr. Walsh," Professor Kendrick's voice cracked like a whip. "Would you care to demonstrate proper form for the class? Since you clearly have energy to spare for commentary."
Dex straightened his expensive uniform and stepped forward. His wand – clearly an enhanced model despite regulations – moved in perfect arcs as he demonstrated. "Channel magic to the crystal core," he recited. "Allow the focus to direct the flow. Trust in the tested and approved methods."
Zeph's hand tightened on his wand. He could *feel* how inefficient Dex's casting was, how much power was being wasted in rigid compliance with the "approved methods." But every time he tried to explain that there might be better ways, he was shut down. The textbooks were clear: House Sterling's standardized techniques were the only safe way to practice magic.
"Remember, everyone," Professor Kendrick addressed the class, "your mid-term evaluation is next week. Standard Sterling-certified wands only – no enhanced models." She glanced at several students who quickly tried to hide their obviously upgraded wands. "Those who fail to meet minimum requirements will be placed in remedial classes."
Zeph's stomach clenched. Remedial classes meant extra fees, mandatory tutorial sessions, and "specialized" equipment rental. His family had scraped together barely enough for standard tuition. One glance at his scores, and it was clear where he was headed.
The practice hall emptied slowly, students gathering in chattering groups to compare scores and techniques. Zeph stayed behind, staring at his target, trying one more time to make the magic flow the way everyone said it should.
"You're still here?" Raven had lingered, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Look, Cooper, not everyone is cut out for advanced magic. There's no shame in accepting your limitations."
"Is that what they taught you in your private lessons?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. "That everyone has convenient limitations that match exactly what the Houses say is possible?"
Raven's eyes narrowed. "The standardized system exists for a reason. Or would you rather we go back to the chaos before the Houses brought order to magical education? Back to wild magic and Wound Zones spreading unchecked?"
"That's not what I—"
"Save it." She turned away. "Some of us actually work hard to master the proper techniques instead of making excuses."
As she left, Ash Harrison fell into step beside Zeph. "Hey, don't let it get to you. Those standardized tests are rigged anyway. Did you know Sterling Corp literally designs them around their own wand specifications? The whole scoring system is calibrated to their crystal matrices."
"Thanks, Ash." Zeph managed a weak smile. His roommate meant well, but technical trivia couldn't fix what was wrong with him. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this."
"Nonsense." Ash pulled out his own wand – heavily modified despite regulations – and twirled it like a conductor's baton. Tiny runes glowed along its length, definitely not House-approved. "The system's the problem, not you. These mass-produced focuses are garbage. Give me a week in my workshop, and I could customize one that—"
"And get us both expelled for unauthorized modifications?" Zeph shook his head. "I'll figure something out."
They passed through the academy's grand halls, where enchanted paintings showed famous moments in magical history. All of them, Zeph noticed, depicted the Houses' approved version of events. House Blackbridge defending civilization from magical threats. House Sterling bringing standardization to chaos. House Rothscar elevating magical education.
They passed a wall of gleaming display cases filled with Sterling Corp's latest models. Sleek wands with precision-cut crystals promised "20% better channeling efficiency" and "Enhanced safety features." Each bore a price tag that made Zeph's practice wand look like pocket change.
A news screen above the displays showed footage from the latest Wound Zone containment operation. House Blackbridge security forces battled twisted magical creatures while a reporter praised their "tireless efforts to protect civilization." The caption below advertised Blackbridge's new line of defensive talismans.
"Pure propaganda," Ash muttered. "Did you know those Wound Zones actually shrink naturally when left alone? But containing them is more profitable than curing them."
Zeph turned away from the display. He had two hours until his next class – enough time to visit the library again. Maybe this time he'd find something in the dusty theoretical texts that would explain why magic felt so different to him. Why it refused to flow through the approved channels.
"Want company?" Ash offered. "I've got some new theories about pre-House focusing techniques."
"Thanks, but I need to focus." Zeph forced a grin. "Besides, don't you have another detention for unauthorized experimentation to get to?"
"Hey, that auto-casting ring was a work of art! Just because it violated sixteen different safety regulations..." Ash's voice faded as he headed toward the workshops, no doubt to tinker with more forbidden modifications.
Alone, Zeph's smile dropped. One week until mid-terms. One week to figure out why he could feel magic so clearly, yet couldn't make it behave like everyone else's. One week before his family would have to somehow find the money for remedial classes.
He clutched his practice wand tighter, ignoring how wrong it felt in his hand, and headed for the library's forgotten corners. There had to be an answer somewhere in the academy's vast archives. He just had to find it before he ran out of time.
The magic swirled around him as he walked, invisible to others but clear as daylight to his senses. It moved in patterns so different from the textbook diagrams, so much more complex and beautiful than the rigid forms they were taught. Sometimes, late at night, he dreamed of magic flowing freely, of power that didn't need corporate crystals to focus it.
But those were dangerous thoughts. The kind that got students expelled – or worse.
What he didn't notice was Professor Kendrick watching him go, a troubled expression on her face. Nor did he see the way his failed spells had made the target crystal resonate at frequencies that shouldn't have been possible with a standard wand.
Frequencies that hadn't been seen since long before the Houses took control of magical education.
Frequencies that suggested everything they taught about the nature of magic might be wrong.