Laboratory Seven occupied an entire floor of the academy's research tower, its windows offering panoramic views of the surrounding countryside. The space itself was impressive—workbenches equipped with precision instruments, crystalline formations that amplified magical effects, and bookshelves containing texts that most students would never be permitted to see.
But it was the woman standing at the central table who truly commanded attention.
Professor Elara Blackthorne—Axnem's aunt—appeared to be in her early forties, though her actual age was a subject of academic speculation. Her dark hair showed no trace of gray despite the stress lines around her eyes, and when she moved, the air itself seemed to respond, shifting and flowing in patterns that suggested power beyond normal comprehension.
"Gentlemen," she said as Axnem and Lyle entered, her voice carrying the kind of authority that made even senior professors pay attention. "Welcome to real magical research."
Beside her stood a man Axnem didn't recognize—tall, lean, with silver hair and eyes that held the depth of someone who had seen decades of magical theory evolve firsthand. His robes bore the insignia of a Master Scholar, putting him at least three full tiers above any student.
"This is Master Cordwin Vash," Professor Blackthorne continued. "He's here from the Continental Council of Scholars to oversee our investigation into the southern incidents."
Master Vash stepped forward, and Axnem immediately felt the difference in magical presence. Where Professor Blackthorne's power flowed like controlled water, Master Vash's energy felt like standing near a barely contained storm. The air around him hummed with potential, and Axnem realized this was what true mastery looked like.
"Students," Master Vash said, his voice quiet but penetrating, "you're here because exceptional circumstances require exceptional measures. The magical disruptions we're investigating represent a threat to the fundamental stability of our civilization."
He gestured, and a complex three-dimensional map materialized above the central table—not a simple projection, but a living model that showed real-time mana flow patterns across the entire continent.
"Observe," he continued, and the map shifted, highlighting areas of disturbance in pulsing red. "Seven new incidents since yesterday's assembly. The pattern is accelerating."
Axnem stared at the display, his stomach sinking. In his future memories, the crisis had developed over months, not days. Whatever had changed in this timeline was pushing events far beyond his ability to predict.
"Your task," Professor Blackthorne said, "is to analyze these patterns for mathematical consistency. If these events are artificially induced, the underlying calculations will leave traces—signatures that we can identify and potentially counter."
Lyle raised his hand hesitantly. "Professor, what tier of magical ability would be required to cause disruptions on this scale?"
Master Vash and Professor Blackthorne exchanged glances before the Master Scholar answered. "Archmaster level, at minimum. Possibly higher."
The words hit like a physical blow. Archmasters were legendary figures—individuals whose magical abilities transcended normal understanding. In the entire continent, there were perhaps a dozen confirmed Archmasters, and most of them served on the Continental Council itself.
"Which means," Professor Blackthorne continued, "that if these events are intentional, we're dealing with either a rogue member of the highest magical authorities, or..."
"Or something beyond our current classification system," Master Vash finished grimly.