1.24 Mage's Apprentice

The room crackled with energy as Isha concentrated on her Mana.

Master Castra led Isha through a series of exercises designed to determine her natural affinities with Mana. Each exercise involved channelling Mana into different artefacts—crystals, rings, and parchments inscribed with runes.

As they concluded the last test, Castra's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing. She observed Isha with eyes that, for a second, shimmered with jealousy.

"The basic requirement for any aspiring Mage," Castra began, shaking her head, the sense of jealousy gone, "is to possess at least three natural Mana orientations. It forms the foundation upon which all Mages build their magical prowess upon, eventually moving onto the practices beyond their natural affinity."

Isha blinked up at Castra. "Where are you going with this?"

Castra made a gesture of catching something and then letting it go away. She sighed. "Most average Mages have four elemental affinities. Five affinities are rare and prized. Six is the highest number of natural affinities possible. You, my lady, possess six natural affinities."

The number of her natural affinity was indeed good news. To have such a rare gift was beyond her wildest dreams, but that wasn't what was truly important to her. Not at the moment.

"Will any of my affinities help me become a Healer?"

Castra regarded her with a frown, her brow furrowing. "Didn't you want to be a Warmage or a Battlemage? That is what your father said." 

"On that, I have no choice," Isha said with a disgruntled sigh. "Nevertheless, I wish to pursue healing as my secondary class. Is it feasible?"

"I do not understand your reasons, but know this, it is best for anyone to take up secondary classes that complement their Primary class. For Warmages, the ideal secondary path typically enhances their combat prowess or at least aligns with their Primary Class. Warmage and Healer class don't mix well."

How could that be? Those two classes should be a perfect match. "Wouldn't healers be invaluable on the battlefield?"

Castra nodded. "Indeed, healers are essential, but so are Runners—these classes are all taken up by separate individuals. The statutes of war demand specialisation. Warmages excel in their roles because they focus solely on their studies to deal large scale damage with occasional knowledge of field medicine, just as healers devote themselves to saving lives—few with combat training to defend themselves."

Isha tried her best not to frown, grappling with the realisation that her dreams might not be as straightforward as she had hoped. She wanted to do this for her own peace of mind, to find a cure for the same disease that had taken her brother away from her. Could she never find peace? 

"Is there no middle ground?" Isha asked, stifling her tears. "No way to harmonise these classes? Please … I … I need this."

Castra laughed. "I never said it was impossible." 

Castra gently stroked Isha's head. "I know you won't change your mind no matter what I say, I can see it in your eyes, my lady. I know of a few people who have taken up two classes of seemingly conflicting natures. Those people when successful shine the brightest. But such individuals are rare, it requires insane skill and unyielding will power."

"It is challenging, I understand," Isha said. Isha understood the meaning of challenging, it was watching your brother wither away before your eyes—unable to do anything to stop it. If she could prevent such a tragedy for just one person, any challenges would be worth it. "I will become a Healer. Do I have the necessary Mana aptitude for it?"

Castra's eyes softened with pride. Isha hadn't expected that. "I like you, my lady. It was indeed an honour to meet you. Fire, Air, Life, Infusion, Decay and Array—they are your natural affinities. Natural affinity with Life and Decay is essential to achieve Healer class, you have both." 

Isha's breath caught in her throat. That was all she wanted to know. Now that she knew it was possible, she would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. 

"Now, shall we move on to the last test," Castra said.

Isha blinked, she had completely forgotten about the last test, logical reasoning. "Oh, of course!"

Castra looked at her sternly. "Most people fail at this stage. We can not allow people who can't make sound decisions to join the ranks of Battlemage."

Isha understood, the aftermath of simple mistakes in wars could be devastating. 

Castra asked her a series of questions for various scenarios. Isha frowned at the simplicity of the question. All the answers were obvious to her, and yet, the other woman nodded thoughtfully for some of her answers, as if she hadn't thought of such a simple answer herself.

Her mother, when she deigned to train her—which wasn't often—gave her far more troublesome questions. Questions that always made her stomach churn.

"You have an excellent grasp of spell usage in various situations. You are a prodigy. Welcome to my apprenticeship."

That was it? She was an apprentice? And a prodigy for answering such simple questions? It couldn't be true.

"But my answers were obvious," Isha protested.

Castra shook her head. "You have had training on this, I see. If you had answered only a third of my questions reasonably, I would have accepted you. Yet you answered all my questions without fail, and some answers were better than mine."

Isha found herself at a loss for words. The idea that her knowledge and skills could exceed those of her mentor was daunting. Isha couldn't believe it. "But—"

"Do not doubt yourself, girl," Castra interrupted, her firm voice cutting through Isha's disbelief in her own abilities. "I will not have that in my apprentice."

Isha gaped. The abrupt change from honorifics to 'girl' was nothing short of astonishing. Hadn't Castra said she would treat her as a lady as long as they were within the estate. But Castra let the lapse slide, the older woman was her master now.

"Have you any idea," Castra continued, "how many Mages die because they think 'Stronger the spell the better'. Bah, fools."

Isha knew that very well. "I have an inkling."

"You do?"

Isha nodded, shivering at the memory—the deaths and bloodshed. "My mother has taken me to several war zones in Vallum."

Castra's eyes widened. "I … don't know how to respond. You are so young. You are not ready for such horrors."

Were those pity in her eyes?

Isha shrugged. "I am used to it."

The truth was far more complex than Castra, or anyone else for that matter could possibly understand. The memories of carnage were etched into her mind, and the nightmares those memories fuelled were her constant companion, lurking in the recesses of her mind, ready to resurface at any moment.

Her mother's actions—the decision to take her to war zones—was one of the driving factors behind her parents' inevitable divorce. It was a necessary decision by her father, driven by her mother's unwavering belief in preparing her for the harsh realities of their world. Yet, it had come at a cost—a seething anger, almost hatred for her own mother.

Castra opened her mouth then closed it again, before shaking her head.

There was a long pause before Castra spoke again. "Come, it's time to leave for your studies."