The Month of Noah, once a chaotic rush of uncertainty and unfamiliar faces, had now settled into something close to the rhythm for Liam.
Each day began before sunrise. While many still clung to sleep, he sat by the window of his dorm room, poring over tomes and scribbled notes, catching up on a curriculum he'd entered months late.
Once the morning bell rang, the whirlwind of lectures and practical classes began — conjuration, potion brewing, elemental theory, and more. He moved from subject to subject, often too noticed. But he never strayed from the rhythm.
And when the sun began to dip beyond the spires of Azmaaris, Liam turned inward. The last session of his day — his own design — was always the same: mana breathing in solitude. No distractions, no crowd, no instructors. Just breathe, silence, and focus.
It was in this silence that his progress became visible. The mana heart within him — once trembling and frail — now pulsed steadily. Stronger. Clearer. Sharper.
Lightning, his first element, responded in kind. It no longer flickered like a stray spark. It coiled, it hummed, it listened. Every evening spent honing it deepened its bond with him.
He was still a First Blaze Apprentice, but his heart told him otherwise.
Their evening walks had started out of convenience — an excuse to escape the noise of the dorms, to breathe the cooler air of Azmaaris under the moon's watchful gaze. But now, they had become routine.
Liam walked at a calm pace, hands in his pockets, eyes occasionally drifting to the stars. Serena matched his stride effortlessly, her arms folded behind her back, her eyes full of questions—always questions.
In the past few weeks, she had grown used to the quiet presence of the thirteenth prince. Used to his blunt honesty, his unnatural retention of complex theories, his unpredictable but strangely precise insights. And one thing had become clear—he hadn't lied about the rehydration potion. Or anything else, for that matter.
"You didn't study any of this before the Institute?" she asked again that evening, her voice carrying a note of disbelief as they passed beneath one of the glowing mana-lantern trees.
Liam gave a small shrug. "Not formally. Never read a subject textbook until four weeks ago."
Serena stopped walking for a moment, staring at him. "And yet you suggested Professor Wexley with three alternate solutions."
"I guessed," Liam replied dryly.
"No, you didn't," she said, smirking. "You don't guess. You calculate. You watch, you listen, then you speak like you've known it for years."
Liam didn't deny it. He simply walked on, and she followed.
The rumors had swelled by now — whispers in the halls, giggles in the corners, even a few outright claims from bolder students.
"These two are definitely a thing."
"Is Prince Liam really courting Serena?"
"She sits with him at meals! They walk together every night! What do you think — genius."
He had heard it all. So had she.
But only the two of them knew the truth.
They weren't lovers. They weren't courting. They were… simply comfortable. And that was rarer than either of them cared to admit. Serena had grown familiar, yes — but not because of grand gestures or secret glances. It was because Liam listened. Because Serena stayed. Because both needed the other to pretend.
Serena glanced sideways at him, her expression unreadable. "Just don't expect me to defend you when the girls start glaring."
He chuckled under his breath.
His sisters were satisfied. As far as they could see, Liam had done a commendable job keeping his distance from unnecessary trouble — and what better shield than a girl like Serena? Calm, sharp, grounded. It was the perfect pretense. And though it had begun as that — a quiet arrangement neither of them named — sometimes, even his sisters would join in the evening conversations. Evaline with her teasing jabs, Elaine with her suspicious glances, and even Cassandra, who mostly watched with a knowing smile.
Still, Liam's mind wasn't on gossip or playful jests. Not anymore.
The Eve of Idris was approaching — a grand celebration back at the palace, steeped in tradition, reverence, and the ever-watchful eyes of the palace. Which meant his return was imminent. He had little time left.
He sat at the edge of the dorm room balcony, eyes closed, mana flowing slowly through his limbs, his breathing rhythm syncing with the distant chimes from the library tower.
This is my chance, All my hypotheses… they'll be tested.
Every strange dream, every knowledge.
No one here knows what this condition is. Not the students, not the teachers, not even Master Caelus.
He had read hundreds of articles across disciplines — mana theory, physiology, elemental divergence, even obscure scrolls on cursed bloodlines and ancient bindings — but not one mention of a case like his.
Where the person suffering would also be experiencing strange dreams of incidents, prowess, and knowledge far beyond the capabilities of an Apprentice.
But one thing was certain: his mana heart had always held back. Not just out of weakness, but something unknown. And now, with the strength of the lightning element woven into its pulse, he could feel the power
If I gather enough mana to push into the next minor realm…
If I time the convergence right —
If I channel that excess into a revelation. A glimpse into the truth.
I would have an explanation of my condition.
But time was against him.
I need to do it before I'm summoned back to the palace.
All night, Liam prepared for his breakthrough — but in truth, it was something far more delicate than that.
It was an experiment.
Like the researchers often said with furrowed brows and sleepless eyes: "True knowledge is birthed from uncertainty."That night, Liam walked straight into that uncertainty. Not to test his strength, but to explore the origin, capabilities, and extent of the visions he'd been seeing. If every previous breakthrough or mana surge gave him a memory — a revelation — then what would happen if he tried to influence that memory?
He took out a small slip of parchment and scribbled down three thoughts, clear and intentional, as though the act of writing might help the mana focus.
First, he wrote a desire that was absurd, unattainable — and yet, if it worked, would change everything:
"I wish to know a way to manipulate time itself. To go to different times."
A part of him almost laughed at it. The idea was fantasy even among the most eccentric scholars of Ironhelm. Still, he knew this: if the revelation he received was somehow about time — about warping the natural order — then the memories and visions tied to his condition might not be just fragments. They might be breaks in reality.
He'd read countless treatises and arguments by forgotten philosophers who wrote, "What if I did that?" or "What if that never happened?"
If Liam were to receive such a memory… he wouldn't worry about this life anymore. He'd have to worry about the source of that knowledge — and pray he was the only one who ever touched such a power.
Second, he wrote something more grounded — desirable, yes, but not omnipotent:
"I wish I had the theory and practical knowledge of all 22 subjects. And if impossible, at least the roadmap to grasp them faster."
This would be useful. With exams approaching, such a boon would allow him to shock the faculty — and maybe even set a new record.
Then he smiled to himself.
"Why would I ever reveal strength and invite challenge?"
If this wish were to come true, it would imply that the extent of his memories was realistic — perhaps it was the essence of the Nvaars or the ghosts of many scholars — he chuckled.
Third, he wrote:
"I wish to have the most advanced knowledge — knowledge that will help me grow."
This one… was less about need, and more about curiosity.
When he closed his eyes, he could almost see Graham — the mysterious figure who sometimes visited his dreams. From the vision of his infancy, he implied that he had good recollection but there was something abstract, something unplaceable. If the source was from within himself, then perhaps this was the safest bet. The knowledge would be grounded but useful.
Of all three, Liam prayed the second would be the one that anchored his vision — the clearest, most useful path, and the safest. A culmination of study, theory, and understanding. No twisted fate. No forbidden power.
The sky lightened. Morning crept in.
Liam placed three azure-blue vials on the floor before him. They shimmered softly with mana — gifts from Master Caelus.
They were Apprentice Realm Breakthrough Potions, designed to enhance the user's chances a hundredfold. They sharpened focus, aligned the body and mind, and guaranteed success in the earlier minor realms. Normally, Liam would have waited. Only three such potions could ever be used at the Apprentice stage — and he had hoped to reserve them for more difficult thresholds.
But time was no longer a luxury.
He had to force the breakthrough today with the potion — then, with the remaining mana still cycling, use the potion again and push for another vision.
He wasn't attending classes today.
Liam crossed his legs on the cold floor, the potions gleaming in the light of dawn. His breathing slowed. His mana heart pulsed gently. Then deeply.
The breathing began — this time, with unmatched intensity.
He focused his mind on the three thoughts.
He let go of everything else.
Liam drank the potion, and his breathing deepened. His body became still, silent — but within, his mana heart flared.
The soft citrine radiance pulsing from within him grew stronger, and brighter until it glowed like a buried sun beneath his skin. The mana pulse, steady and deliberate at first, grew rapid, urgent — echoing through his veins like war drums before a charge.
The air around him thickened faintly.
He focused on the order of his thoughts — the wishes he had written down. Let the first be the one… or the second… even the third…
Then, the breakthrough came.
His body trembled, his mana condensed, restructured — the invisible wall was shattered. His citrine heart flared with new vigor, surging into a new minor realm.
But…
No revelation.
Nothing. No memory. No vision. No voice.
Just the quiet.
…No, maybe it comes after the breakthrough… when the mana surge peaks…
He tried again.
For two days, Liam didn't attend class. He remained seated in the room, windows sealed, his entire world narrowed down to the soft pulse in his chest. Mana Breathing — constant, unbroken, maddeningly slow.
He focused every breath to fuel the flame inside him.
The mana heart pulsed with power, growing heavier with each cycle. The more refined it became, the more strain it placed on his body. His lungs burned. His back ached. His muscles twitched at every long-held breath.
His mana pulse now beat in rhythm with his heart — more alive than ever before, radiating power into every fiber of his being.
The mana flame, flickering violet at the edges of the citrine core, burned stronger than it had during the last breakthrough. It was now tall and steady — not wild, but disciplined. Focused. Hungry.
He grabbed the second azure-blue vial and drank it down.
A rush. His body stiffened. His thoughts blurred — narrowed — became like glass spears of clarity.
The potion pulled his body into a state of simulated mana surge, creating the perfect condition for a second push. He breathed in the gathered mana. Held and then pushed for the next breakthrough.
Still… no vision.
His body settled. His eyes opened. Sweat rolled down his jaw.
"Did I make a mistake?" he whispered to himself.
He hadn't failed the breakthrough. Far from it. His mana heart had already adapted and grown. But this wasn't about strength — this was about truth. About answers. About the source of those impossible memories.
"The vision… it always came during the mana surge. Then what changed? Was it because I tried to control it?"
The disappointment settled like lead in his chest.
But even in that, there was something unprecedented.
His second breakthrough had come only a day and a half after the first. His mana core, still stabilizing, had surged forward again. The average Apprentice in Ironhelm took months, even years, to move between minor realms.
But Liam… Liam had done it in days.
He was now a Third Blaze Apprentice. A Rooted Apprentice — the point where one's elemental affinity began to evolve alongside the mana heart.
At the beginning of his time at the Institute, Liam had entered as a 13-year-old Initiate Apprentice — the weakest standard of talent possible for someone born of an Ascendant bloodline. By the standard of Ironhelm, he was hardly a footnote.
But now?
He had broken through twice in a span of nights.
Even Liam didn't know what to expect.
The more certain I become, the farther I drift away from it. I need to solve this soon. I need to understand what I am. Liam thought.
Was he growing because of talent, or was it the byproduct of something else?
Was this power truly his? Or had the source that gave him memories… begun to change the course of his fate?