The letter arrived during breakfast, delivered by a academy courier whose formal bearing suggested official business. Axnem recognized the Black family seal before he even opened it—the stylized raven clutching a scroll, embossed in silver wax that had already begun to crack from the morning's humidity.
His hand trembled slightly as he broke the seal, though he hoped none of his dining companions noticed. Letters from home had rarely brought good news in his previous timeline.
My dear son, his mother's elegant script began, I hope your studies continue well. Your father and I are proud of your acceptance into Professor Malvorn's advanced research program—word travels quickly in certain circles.
Axnem paused, surprised. He hadn't mentioned Malvorn's offer in his last letter home, yet somehow his parents already knew. The Black family's information network, despite their reduced circumstances, apparently still functioned.
However, recent events require our family's attention. Your grandfather Aldric wishes to speak with you during the upcoming rest period. The family's... financial obligations have become more pressing, and certain parties are demanding resolution of old debts. We may need to consider options we had hoped to avoid.
The formal language couldn't hide the desperation beneath. Financial obligations—that was code for the mounting pressure from their political enemies, the creditors circling like vultures around the weakened Black holdings.
"Bad news?" Noharim asked quietly, sliding into the seat across from him. Her usual morning energy seemed subdued, and Axnem noticed dark circles under her eyes.
"Family business," he replied, folding the letter. "Nothing urgent."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Everything about his family's situation was urgent. In his previous timeline, this same financial pressure had forced his father into increasingly desperate arrangements with questionable allies. Those alliances had ultimately destroyed what remained of the Black family's reputation and power.
"I've been thinking about yesterday's research," Noharim continued, apparently accepting his deflection. "The cascade resonance theory—if someone is deliberately triggering these mana disruptions, they'd need massive computational resources to solve the Convergence Equations."
"Or access to pre-existing solutions," Axnem suggested carefully. In his future memories, the true perpetrators had possessed exactly that—ancient knowledge that made complex calculations unnecessary.
"Either way, it points to institutional backing. Individual scholars, no matter how brilliant, couldn't manage something this scope." She paused, stirring her tea thoughtfully. "My family received a letter yesterday too. Trade disruptions are affecting our shipping routes. The magical preservation spells that keep cargo fresh during long journeys are becoming unreliable."
Axnem nodded, though internally he was cataloging the implications. If preservation magic was failing, food shortages would follow within weeks. The economic cascade would accelerate everything—political instability, social unrest, and the exact conditions that had allowed his family's enemies to gain power in his original timeline.
"We need to accelerate our research," he said finally. "Whatever's causing this isn't going to wait for us to catch up."