"Most mages awaken their affinity at a young age, through an initial pattern that becomes reinforced by habit, maybe training, and maybe successful accidental use. Secondary affinities are possible, but instability within the Aether core increases unless the user can comprehend the relationship rather than force them."
The room stayed still.
Some students looked irritated that someone in the back row had answered. Others looked interested.
Professor Naeric tilted his head slightly.
"That was... an unusually precise answer."
Ryn made a small choking noise beside me, halfway between panic and amusement.
Professor Naeric ignored him.
I said, "Precision is usually effective."
A faint ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Not from the front.
From the middle rows.
Professor Naeric's mouth twitched, though not enough to qualify as a smile.
"Yes," he said dryly. "It often is."
He turned back toward the class at large.
"The answer is correct. Most cores lean naturally toward a dominant affinity. Secondary affinities may emerge through unusual inheritance, sustained training, altered awakening conditions, or extreme comprehension."
That last phrase lingered in my mind.
'Extreme comprehension.'
'How many had existed?'
'How many people in the history of Elyndra had held more than two affinities? Three?'
'All of them?'
The thought arrived quietly, but once it was there, it didn't leave.
Were there records of anyone with complete affinity access?
Not myths.
Records.
The Codex remained silent.
Fine.
'I'll just research it myself.'
Professor Naeric moved on, shifting the lecture toward practical distinctions in flow behaviour.
Ryn, unfortunately, had reached his conversational limit.
He leaned over again.
"So if Aether is the soul of the universe or whatever, does that mean this class is technically theology?"
"You know what theology is?"
"Dude..."
"I'm kidding. It's not theology."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because theology isn't organised."
Ryn snorted loudly. Too loudly.
Professor Naeric stopped speaking.
The entire hall went still.
Ah.
There it was.
Professor Naeric slowly looked up toward the back rows.
His gaze settled directly on Ryn.
"Young man," he said, voice even, "do you have any issues with the content?"
Ryn froze.
Then, with a speed that would have been impressive under different circumstances, he straightened, put both hands flat on the desk, and said:
"No. Nothing."
Professor Naeric stared at him for a beat longer.
Then another.
Ryn sank into his chair as if trying to become part of the furniture.
Finally, Professor Naeric turned away.
"Good," he said. "I would hate to have to improve your understanding. Privately."
A few people laughed.
Ryn sank even lower.
I leaned slightly toward him and murmured, "Really discreet, Ryn."
He didn't move. "I wanna die."
"You're fine, it could have been worse."
"I think I just died socially."
"That's... recoverable."
"No, it isn't."
It probably wasn't.
But I wasn't going to tell him that.
The lecture continued.
Students were quieter now, more thoughtful. A few looked intimidated. A few looked energised. Some of the nobles looked bored.
At the front, Cyril had not changed once.
Same posture. Same distance in his eyes. Same expression of faint, unbothered boredom, as though nothing in the lecture had surprised or challenged him in the slightest.
Taron, by contrast, looked as though he'd found half of it fascinating and the other half an obstacle to move. Selene had noticed everything. Elya remained unreadable. Marin seemed engaged in the sort of way that suggested she listened more closely than people assumed.
Professor Naeric dismissed us without ceremony.
"Read your assigned work by tomorrow. If you arrive ignorant, I will know."
Then he turned and left through the lecture hall exit by the teacher's desk.
Just like that.
The room exploded into motion.
Students stood. Books snapped shut. Conversations resumed immediately, but this time louder than before.
Ryn surfaced from his chair like a man returning from underwater.
"Ok. I've decided. I'm transferring."
"You've been here for one day."
"And already I've suffered a lifetime of embarrassment."
We gathered our things and moved with the crowd toward the rear exit. The room bottlenecked quickly, forcing students into tighter channels than anyone preferred.
Ryn was muttering something about "public humiliation as an educational punishment" when he took a step forward and collided lightly with someone leaving the row below.
He stopped.
I stopped.
And...
... Marin Thornevale looked up at him.
For one brief moment, none of us moved.
Marin's expression shifted from surprise to amusement with dangerous speed.
"Well," she said softly, looking Ryn up and down with lazy interest, "if it isn't that pretty face."
Ryn forgot how to function.
Completely.
His mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
Marin tilted her head, eyes bright with mischief.
"Looks like you healed well," she added. "I'd say I'm proud of my work, but that might encourage you to get injured again."
"And we can't have that happen, now can we?" Marin continued.
Ryn looked as though someone had just struck him in his soul.
I, on the other hand, could only stare at the absurdity happening in front of me.
Marin's gaze flicked to me briefly, noting my expression with obvious delight, then returned to Ryn.
"Try not to get yourself beaten up before lunch," she said. "The second treatment won't be free this time."
Then she stepped around him as gracefully as if the collision had been choreographed, her coat brushing lightly past his sleeve, and continued down the stairs toward the front exit like she hadn't just detonated half of his nervous system.
Ryn remained motionless.
I looked at him.
He looked at the space where she had been.
Then slowly, very slowly, he turned toward me.
"…Did that just happen?"
"Yes."
"Did she say what I think she said—"
"Yes."
"Kael. Don't."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"You were."
"Ok, maybe I was."
He dragged a hand over his face.
"This school is trying to kill me in new ways."
We resumed walking, though now Ryn moved as if his body had forgotten how to coordinate basic functions.
The corridor outside the lecture hall was crowded, students splitting off toward the cafeteria, library halls, training wings, or simply wandering long enough to pretend they had a direction.
I adjusted my backpack and let my thoughts return to the earlier question.
'Multiple affinities.'
'Dominant stabilisation.'
'Extreme comprehension.'
'Records. Not rumours. Records.'
'There had to be something in the Academy archives.'
If anyone in Elyndrian history had ever manifested all affinities, or even something close to it, the Academy library would know.
I glanced toward the western corridor where the library connected to the main academic wing.
Ryn noticed.
"Where are you going?"
"The library."
He blinked. "Now?"
"Yes."
"It's the first day, there are a million different things we could do, and you want to go to the library?"
"Yes."
He stared at me for a moment, then groaned.
"You're impossible."
"You coming?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm going to grab some lunch before my brain collapses."
"That seems wise."
He pointed at me, still visibly unsteady from the Marin encounter. "If you find anything cursed, broken, forbidden, or likely to be dangerous, don't come back to the dorm room."
"That's a very unreasonable request."
"It's a smart request."
I nodded once. "I'll consider it."
"That means no, doesn't it?"
"Yup."
Ryn muttered something dark under his breath and turned down the corridor toward the dining hall.
I watched him go for a second, then turned the other way.
Toward the library.
Toward the archives.
Toward the question now lodged in my mind with all the stubbornness of a hook in a pond:
'Had there ever been a mage in Elyndra… with all affinities?'