Cont'd
___
By the end of the second week, Finn could make the crystal glow on command. Not bright. Not steady. But there.
Lucian had learned everything the Academy had to offer.
"Your magic system is inefficient," he said one morning, over breakfast. Finn was eating eggs—real eggs, not the powdered kind—and trying not to look too happy about it.
"Thanks," Finn said.
"It's not an insult. It's an observation. You have seven affinities treated as separate disciplines, when they're clearly variations of the same underlying principle." Lucian poked at his own plate. He didn't eat much. Never did. "The first mages knew this. The knowledge was lost. Probably deliberately."
"Who would do that?"
"People who benefit from keeping mages divided. Specialized. Easier to control."
Finn frowned. "The Mage Council?"
"The Mage Council. The Academy. The noble houses." Lucian shrugged. "Power concentrates where knowledge is restricted."
"So what do we do?"
