Location: Azmar Luminary Institute, neutral kingdom of Azmar in the world of Aethalgard.
A short while earlier, as Vivian was gushing over the Institute's library, Callum returned to the professor after escorting her. He found the professor pacing behind his desk as he muttered fragmented thoughts to himself.
"From another world," Cyrus whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at the floorboards. "Two consciousnesses trading vessels. The magical expenditure required for such a phenomenon defies every established principle of ambient energy absorption theory."
"Professor," Callum interrupted, keeping his voice measured to ground the frantic man. "Right before the transition, I saw a strange shimmer surround Ally, as if she were fracturing into a reflection. She managed to warn me that the transition was abnormal, and she believed whoever was behind it was specifically targeting Vivian."
Cyrus stopped pacing and looked at Callum, his mind visibly racing to process the new variable. "Targeting her? If we assume a natural bridge exists between their minds, applying enough pressure to manipulate it would require a staggering amount of focused mana. Could someone have found a way to locate that tether?"
Callum frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "Furthermore, Shadow-mages attacked us inside the palace moments after she arrived. I suspect they acted solely as a retrieval team sent to collect Vivian. They likely knew she would be defenseless in Ally's body, while an entirely different party orchestrated the switch from afar."
"A coordinated effort," Cyrus breathed, his voice a mix of academic thrill and genuine bewilderment. "We are in completely uncharted territory, Prince Callum. One force manipulates the tether, and another secures the vessel. We might infer they intend to exploit her unique state for their own gain."
Callum's posture went rigid, displaying his tension. "We need to teach her how to defend herself. However, I worry about her broadcasting her presence. If she learns to access Ally's magic, might she accidentally alert whoever is orchestrating this to her exact location?"
"A valid concern," Cyrus agreed, rushing to a nearby chalkboard to quickly sketch out a rudimentary diagram of two intersecting spheres. "We need to observe more before we can draw any conclusions. We must observe how she interacts with the ambient magic of Aethelgard. I will prepare a basic assessment."
Cyrus turned back to Callum, his eyes gleaming with insatiable curiosity. "We need to see what happens when a person from a realm completely lacking the ability use energy learns to reach out and touch it for the very first time."
Callum nodded, pulling a heavy wooden chair closer to the professor's desk. "Then let us outline the structure of this assessment and draft a training schedule. We require an approach that maximizes her time while she is still here. And she expressed that she would like to pursue physical training. Oh, and we need to make sure that she has reading time. Otherwise, she will not be able to focus."
For the next hour, the prince and the professor pored over pristine parchment, debating the safest methods to introduce a person completely unaccustomed to channeling to Aethelgard's ambient forces. They charted out theoretical exercises, pairing them with physical conditioning to ensure Ally's body built up the necessary endurance. Cyrus sketched complex diagrams mapping the pathways of energy flow, while Callum provided pragmatic insights into defensive maneuvers and tactical awareness. The resulting schedule was demanding, yet carefully calibrated to protect their otherworldly guest.
By the time Kel returned with Vivian, Callum was waiting at the entrance to the lecture hall. The trio returned to Professor Aethelstone's office, where the professor —once again—only acknowledged Vivian. This time, however, he treated her as a precious and fragile being who might disappear suddenly: a notion that was not entirely untrue. Kel gave a slight bow as he fulfilled his escort mission and resumed his sentry position outside the office door.
A few moments later, Kel's arm shot out suddenly to block the door. On the other side of the arm was Tristan, holding a stack of books and looking a little panicked. Kel had no expression at all.
"He is fine, Sir Muscles. This is one of the research assistants I was going to introduce you to, anyway. I think he will be helpful while we work on the other thing," Aethelstone explained while keeping his eyes glued to Vivian. "This is Scholar Tristan. He is, admittedly, an excellent researcher. But feel free to make him go fetch things as you need them."
Tristan looked at the professor half-lidded. He walked over to a messy table of books, scrolls, and random items haphazardly shoved away from a small half-circle clearing. It was if someone was sitting in that spot and pushed everything away just enough to fill the space with more. And did so over and over again.
Vivian nodded at Tristan, her face flushing as she remembered their intense hour of collaborative theorizing.
"Ally," Callum said to regain her attention, moving his seat next to her. "The professor and I worked out a schedule for you to review. We hoped it would make the best use of your time while you are here." While he spoke, he refused to look at Tristan, yet he inched closer to Vivian in an awkwardly protective way he had perfected over the years.
"I trust you, Cal," Vivian said, then added with a bright smile, "And if I decide the schedule is too grueling by the end of the first week, I will give you the hardest arm punch I can muster."
Callum grabbed his arm at the thought, playing along with her threat.
Observing the strange dynamic of the room, Tristan landed on one obvious truth: the woman, Ally, was at the center of it.
He stepped forward, fluidly navigating the tension. He held out the thickest tome from his stack—the one detailing the accounts of the earliest channelers. "I suspect you might require this for your evening reading, Lady Alura. Consider it the first step in our collaborative efforts."
Vivian accepted the heavy book, her eyes lighting up with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Tristan. I plan to read every page."
********************************************************************
Shortly before the carriage left with the research items requested by Cyrus, Tristan helped the professor pack for their new task. Tristan asked him, "So what do you think?"
Cyrus turned to him with a big grin. "I think what we have been searching for fell right into our laps. I can barely take my eyes off of it."
"That is apparent," Tristan remarked and put a book in one of the crates. "Here. She would like this one."
At the words, Cyrus looked at Tristan quizzically. "Why don't you deliver it in person?"
"Why? Did you not see that prince and his hulking guard? I do not think I would be welcome."
Cyrus slapped his hand on Tristan's shoulder. "Tristan, you young pup. You have so much yet to learn." Cyrus handed the book back to Tristan and said, "You are welcome because you are my indispensable assistant. Yes?"
Tristan felt a mix of curiosity and suspicion as he looked at Cyrus.
"I am going to be as blunt as I can... Tristan? If you make it yours, it will be ours."
"Mine?" Tristan asked, even more suspicious of what the old man was thinking.
"Use those handsome features and charm your mother and I gave you to keep her here as long as possible."
"I know you think what you say is somehow helpful, but..." Tristan sighed. "This is why people think you are creepy."
Cyrus flashed a mischievous grin as he continued to pack. "One person's creepiness is another person's desire. You just have to figure out which category she puts you in."
Tristan covered his face with his hands. "I know how to pursue a woman."
Cyrus paused again. "She is not an ordinary woman. She is a whole other world with history and culture, and maybe even breakthroughs in energy manipulation we have not even considered. No... that, my boy, is a walking library in its own right. I am just asking you to coax it open a little."
"I will consider it, but not because of your weird obsession." Tristan packed more quickly as if rushing out the door.