After reaching a new rank for [Mana Affinity], my Primary Class leveled up to six and granted me two [Attribute Points].

  The message for the skill advancement of Deep Concentration revealed itself once again. I was offered three choices, and I picked one without hesitation.

  The message stretched longer than most. I had to squint to take it all in. As usual, evolving a skill granted more Attributes, but this time, I also unlocked something new, a Unique Perk.

  I let the messages linger before me, hovering in soft gold, until they faded into ember-like cinder fragments of fire drifting on an unseen wind.

  From my desk, I pulled out the reading list Master Orindal had given me. Some titles were already crossed out. Seeing those tiny X-marks sparked a ripple of satisfaction. We were nearing the end of theoretical studies. Soon, I’d finally begin learning practical techniques in potion brewing.

  A knock came at the door.

  “May I come in?” Lina’s voice called from behind.

  After I bathed, she helped me dress. Today’s outfit was a soft yellow dress that fit snugly but comfortably. It shimmered faintly under the morning light. And when I spotted the wide-brimmed hat beside it, I placed it atop my head. The blue ribbon tied around the crown completed the look perfectly.

  We exited the mansion through the west wing’s ground-floor door, following the cobbled path that led to the Golden Orchard.

  The Mage Tavern sat at the far end of the yard, wrapped in light that sneaked its way through the leaves above. The chimney was quiet, absent of smoke curling upward. Master Orindal seemed had gone out somewhere this early in the morning.

  Still, the study table was prepared. A thick book waited beside a cluster of multi-colored pens and a neat stack of parchment.

  ‘Echoes of the Primordial: A Study of the Old Power.’

  The title alone gave me a glimpsed of what I was about to study. The Old Power. A force shrouded in mystery and said to have existed before the Golden Runes.

  My history teacher had once suggested that the Golden Runes may have originated from the Old Power, though there was no conclusive proof to it. Whatever records once existed were lost when the United Empire fell.

  Master Orindal approached from the cobbled path, hands behind his back.

  “Good morning,” I greeted, setting the book down.

  He returned the greeting with a nod, eyes landing on the tome in front of me.

  “What do you think of the Old Powers, Morgana?”

  I took a moment to think. Even in my past life, research into the Old Power had gone nowhere. Endless theories with no confirmation.

  “Old Power might be similar to the Golden Runes,” I said slowly. “But there’s one clear difference.”

  His brow arched. “And what’s that?”

  “The Runes teach us. Like a professor they assess our strengths and tell us how to use the abilities we already possess. They give direction. The Old Power, on the other hand, doesn’t reveal itself. It doesn’t guide. The Golden Runes show us the staircase we have to climb. The Old Power expects us to build one before we can climb.”

  He nodded, pleased. “A keen observation. Then can we guess the amount of power the Old Power holds?”

  I turned the book over in my hands. In the text, it had been likened to a well without a bottom, or an ocean with no islands in sight. Something endless. Something terrifying. And someone who could wield that power has the potential to do things beyond our imagination.

  “Its progression might be limitless,” I said. “The Golden Runes has an end to the amount of power we can use. Each, Runebearers, had to go through arduous training to gain Levels, Skills and Attribute Points. But with Old Powers, its different because one's potential is not measured by training but by luck."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Luck?"

  "If my understanding serves me right, you have the potential to become someone more gifted than most of your peers. It means anyone could rival the power of a Supreme Archmage or a Holy Paragon.”

  “Exactly,” he said, his tone sharpening with quiet awe. “Some believe it’s capable of creating worlds, just as Lucia, the Eldar of Creation, did during the Void Eon.”

  My breath caught.

  “Do you think it’ll return?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  Orindal leaned back. I recognized the motion. It meant he was about to say something he’d kept to himself. But now that I’d asked, he was ready to share it.

  “Yes,” he said, voice low. “And it might happen soon. The Arcane Conclave is researching ways to prove its existence. They claim they’re close. But if you want my personal view...” He exhaled. “It will return. And when it does, it will devastate us... no matter which side that monster chooses.”

  My heart skipped.

  “Monster?” I echoed, stunned.

  “Yes, I’ve read a book that refers to those who use the Old Powers as Varkhul which means monsters in the Primalverse. When the Old Powers return, we might finally understand why the wielders were given such a name.”

  I finished reading about the Old Powers by afternoon and joined my family for lunch soon after. The book was shorter than most. Yet despite its brevity, my master’s words lingered in my mind, stirring an uneasy feeling I couldn’t shake.

  “You’re deep in thought,” Everard said beside me, handing me one of his cupcakes. “It must be something about your classes.”

  I smiled, pulling myself together. I must have been staring off into space long enough for Everard to notice my distraction.

  “If you need anything like a book. I know someone at the Capital Library. He might be able to find what you're looking for.”

  I reached for the cupcake and thanked him for the suggestion. My mind tucked the information away, storing it for the future. After lunch, I returned to the Mage Tavern to continue my lesson.

  To my surprise, Master Orindal was already seated at the table, reading a book. I sat across from him. A thick tome had been placed neatly on my side, my assigned reading for the afternoon. When I read its title, I hesitated.

  The Grand Prognosticon: Collected Prophecies of the Ages.

  The book was bound in dark blue leather, its cover marked with an ominous illustration: a giant eye encircled by burning flames. I had encountered this book before, in my previous life.

  The Grand Prognosticon contained verified prophecies foretold by the last members of the Veilwatchers, an organization of Seers. After them, the art of seeing the future vanished, erased by none other than its founder, Great Mage Valmarin the Seer.

  I sighed and opened the cover. Ten chapters. Each was dedicated to a single prophecy. A short three-page foreword warned readers that prophecies were double-edged things. They were dangerous, elusive, and not always meant to be understood.

  Reading this book was hard. I remembered a strange time in my past life when this book had somehow gained popularity among the noble ladies of high society. Overnight, it became the subject of every book club in the capital. I never understood why.

  But reading this book once again, one particular prophecy unsettled me deeply. The sixth one.

  The Forgotten Monarch’s Return.

  “One cast aside, one left to die.A blade in their back, a kingdom in their hands.The past shall step forward once more.”

  Reading it again made my skin crawl. I couldn’t stop thinking about myself.

  I haven't thought much about what happened to me. I should be dead. I was supposed to be dead. For Lumen’s sake, I had a blade in my neck and blood in my mouth and yet here I was, sitting in the past, alive.

  Why?

  I gently closed the book and leaned back in my chair. Outside, there was no wind. The sky was unmarred by clouds, showing me the full depth of its pale blue.

  What reason could there be for my return?

  Even before I became Empress, I wasn’t a devout follower of any Eldar. The closest I ever came to religion was attending public masses held by the Lumen Church. As Empress, I had to keep the Church in check, especially since many of the Cardinals under the Holy Paragon were dangerously ambitious. Their influence threatened even the Imperial Family.

  If one of the Eldar had sent me back, they must have had a purpose for doing so. In the past, the Eldar were known to grant their chosen Heroes a wish, always in exchange for a small favor. But when those Heroes failed to repay their debts, the consequences were brutal. Often in the form of curses that lead to madness and eventual ruin.

  Suddenly, everything went black.

  I was no longer in the front yard of the Mage Tavern.

  A stench hit me first, blood, thick and coppery. Somewhere in the distance, a sword clashed against steel. But closer to me, I heard something else. The grinding sound of stone crashing against stone, followed by the sharp echo of thunder.

  Then silence.

  I jerked upright, gasping for air.

  The wind outside roared, louder all of a sudden

  “Are you alright?” Master Orindal’s voice grounded me. His blue eyes met mine with quiet concern. When I didn’t answer, he stood.

  “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  I pressed my fingers against my temples, my breath still uneven. I must have imagined it. Overthinking things again made me hallucinate visions that didn’t exist... but what if that was a message. I shouldn't just discourage it as mere hallucinations.

  He returned with two glasses of water and a plate of warm bread.

  “You might be pushing yourself too hard,” he said, setting them down. “Reading that book can take a toll. We're not in a rush. You’re progressing much faster than most apprentices I’ve trained.”

  “I’m glad I’ve exceeded your expectations, Master. But… may I ask why you wanted me to read this book?”

  He sat back down, frowning. “My own master at the Academy included this book early in my training. I decided to do the same for you. He believed prophecies tell us two things. The first is what may come, and the second one is how to recognize when it’s coming. The Seers saw something for a reason. They left their warnings behind for us to interpret.”

  “Have any of them come true?”

  He laughed softly, shaking his head.

  “I’ve lived longer than you might guess, but no… not a single one, at least not in a way that can be proven. Still, I wouldn’t dismiss them. Just don’t lose sleep over it.”

  I nodded, reassured by the ease in his tone.

  The rest of the chapters came easier after that. By the time the butler arrived to summon me for dinner, I had only two chapters left to finish. I planned to read them in the library after the meal, before turning in for the night. That way, by morning, we could begin my formal education in brewing potions.

  I submitted my notes to Master Orindal the next day.

  Master Orindal barely glanced at my notes before setting them aside. I couldn’t help but wonder what he intended to do with them. Hopefully not burn them. That thought lingered in my mind far too often , especially whenever I saw smoke rising from his chimney.

  “Can we prevent a prophecy from happening?” I asked just as he was about to place a new book on the table for me.

  “That’s a question even the Supreme Archmage of the Arcane Conclave pondered on his bed,” he said with a chuckle.

  “To answer your question, there’s no definitive answer. Fate or destiny isn’t something we can control. But in theory, if a being with enough power were to intervene, it’s possible that what’s been foretold could change.”

  I nodded slowly, but his words sent a chill through me. Did that mean I was doomed to die?

  Still, if what he said about a powerful being altering fate was true, then maybe just maybe, my tragic end wasn’t set in stone. I could only hope that whatever force brought me back in time was one of those powerful beings.

  He cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve finished the final book, let’s begin what I suspect you’ve been waiting for since the day I accepted you as my apprentice. Perhaps even before that.”

  I smiled, unable to hide my anticipation. He laughed and I joined him in that.

  “Now, Morgana, sit comfortably. I’m going to show you the book that every mage, regardless of rank, must have.” He revealed a thick book bound in green leather. Golden ink spelled out its title, and below it was an illustration of a small flask.

  The Potions Primer: 50 Essential Potions and Concoctions

  “We usually just call it the Fifty Basic Potions. The real title is far too long. Turn to page ten. We’ll begin with what’s considered the most important potion, the Basic Healing Potion.”

  Master Orindal launched into the lesson while I listened intently. Watching him now, I could almost forget how strange and intimidating he’d seemed at first. He looked every bit the part of a proper teacher.

  The Basic Healing Potion served as magical first aid. It stabilized a patient long enough for a mage to assess deeper wounds or underlying conditions.

  “When attending to someone injured, the first step is always administering a Basic Healing Potion,” Master Orindal explained. He snapped his fingers, summoning a blackboard behind him, and began writing out the ingredients listed in the book.

  The composition of a Basic Healing Potion varied depending on its quality. Higher-tier brews required up to ten different ingredients. But three were considered essential in brewing one, the Elevenroot, Mender’s Bloom, and Aetherleaf.

  “As for the base,” he added, “use Spring Water. Morning dew can also be effective under certain conditions... Have you noted everything I’ve said?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He gave a satisfied nod. “Good. Now we’ll move to the next phase: ingredient collection. A skilled Brewmaster is judged by their ability to identify herbs in the wild. The book includes illustrations and proper gathering techniques. These ensure the ingredients retain their potency. Collect the three basic herbs I mentioned. Once you’ve returned, I’ll guide you through preparing your first potion.”

  My eyes widened at the announcement. I opened my mouth to speak but quickly thought better of it and clamped it shut. I had the book. I had the tools. I could do this.

  “Alright. I’ll begin tomorrow morning and return before lunch, if I can.”

  He acknowledged my plan with a nod, then retrieved something from the pocket of his robe. It was a deep violet leather pouch, shaped like a waterskin but sealed with a zipper instead of a cap.

  “This is an Everpouch. A bag with infinite space.”

  “It never fills up?”

  “It has a limit,” he said, handing it to me. “Anything over twenty-five kilos will be rejected. Still, for most tasks, it’s invaluable. Consider it a gift for being such a diligent apprentice.”

  I stared at the Everpouch, warmth blooming in my chest. A gift. A recognition of all my effort. My throat tightened a little as I held it close.

  “Thank you, Master. I promise to treasure it.”

  Our lesson ended earlier than usual, but that didn’t mean I had the rest of the day to myself. The dress I was supposed to wear for the welcoming party had arrived, and we needed to try it on along with the accessories we’d ordered. If they didn’t complement each other, my mother would no doubt have the entire accesories replaced to suit her taste.

  To my surprise, the lavender gown was even more beautiful than I imagined. The seamstress had made great adjustments. Details that were popular in Gildenburg were added to ensure it remained fashionable. She’d told me that my original design would have aged me, and that I needed to highlight my youth and beauty.

  Tiny amethyst beads shimmered along the fabric. When I turned, the sunlight streaming through the windows caught them and brought the gown to life. In the mirror, the emerald necklace I’d chosen had been modified to feature a larger central stone. I’d asked for a smaller gem, but I was glad the seamstress ignored that detail. The pendant framed my face and brought out the color of the dress.

  As I caught my mother’s reflection beside mine in the mirror, I understood why people said I resembled her.

  After dinner, I turned my attention back to the gathering task. I reread the descriptions of the three herbs I needed to find. Thankfully, Master Orindal would provide the Spring Water himself, which simplified things.

  “I think that’s enough for now.” I put down my pen and carefully stacked the book and notes on my table. Then I returned to my mana flow exercises. To my surprise, I didn’t receive any level-ups. It wasn’t until the following morning that I ranked my Mana Affinity to III.

  When I stepped out of the mansion, a quiet sense of awe settled over me. The idea that I was finally about to gather ingredients for my first potion hadn’t quite sunk in.

  “Let’s go now, my lady,” Lina said.

  I climbed into the carriage with quiet anticipation. For I know, new discoveries awaits me.