The old mill smelled like mildew and teenage rebellion, which probably made it the perfect place to engage in illegal magical training.
James arrived first, naturally. He'd teleported the last hundred feet because walking was for people who hadn't mastered spatial displacement, then immediately regretted it when the mana drain left him dizzy. Three months of practice and long-distance teleportation still kicked his ass.
"Showing off already?"
James spun around. Miranda was leaning against a broken water wheel, looking smug.
"How did you—I checked for thoughts. You weren't here."
"I got here early. Been practicing being quiet in my head. You know, just thinking really boring stuff. Multiplication tables. Laundry lists. The sound of my father snoring." She grinned. "Works pretty well."
James felt a mix of annoyance and respect. "I see."
"So, teach me to freeze things."
"Not yet. First, you need to understand why we're doing this." James pulled out a notebook, not his personal journal, but a new one he'd started for shared research. "I have a problem. Multiple problems. All related to the Affinity Test."
Miranda sat on a rotting beam, attentive. "The test in four years?"
"Three years, eight months now. And yes." James flipped open the notebook to a page covered in his cramped handwriting. "I have at least two confirmed affinities: Eldritch and Elemental. Possibly more. When I take the test, it will detect all of them. And people with multiple affinities either die from internal mana conflict, get "pruned" as anomalies or worse case scenario, become an experiment for the Magic Dominion. And James is no one's experiment."
"So dramatic."
James ignored that and continued. "So I need to understand exactly how the test works. How it detects affinity, what it measures, whether it can be fooled." He looked at her seriously. "This isn't just about teaching you magic. It's about survival. Mine specifically, but yours too eventually."
Miranda's expression sobered. "What do you need?"
"Information. Your father works in the Records Office, right?"
"Archives, technically. But yes."
"Does he have access to documentation about the Affinity Test? Procedures, equipment specifications, anything technical?"
"Maybe? He doesn't usually bring work home, but..." Miranda's eyes lit up. "His office. He has files there. I could—"
"No breaking in. Too risky."
"I was going to say I could visit him at work. Bring lunch. Be adorable and distracting while accidentally reading over his shoulder." She smiled innocently. "I'm very good at being underestimated."
James felt that same mix of annoyance and respect again. "Fine. But be careful. We can't afford attention."
"Says the boy who teleported to our meeting."
"That was—shut up."
They spent the next hour on actual magic training. James demonstrated basic ice manipulation. Freezing small amounts of water, controlling the rate of crystallization and managing his mana flow.
Miranda couldn't actually do any of it yet, lacking an affinity, but she absorbed the lectures voraciously, took notes in her own shorthand and asked questions that were sometimes stupid but occasionally brilliant.
"So mana is energy," she said, watching James freeze a puddle, "but it responds to intent. Which means it's partially conscious?"
"Or we're unconsciously manipulating quantum fields through observation. Or magic is just applied physics we don't have equations for yet. Or—" James shrugged, realizing that she didn't understand a word he was saying. "I don't know. That's the frustrating part. Magic works, but nobody knows why it works."
"Maybe that's why science and magic split. Scientists wanted to know why. Mages were happy just doing."
James paused mid-freeze. "That's actually insightful... and stupid."
"I'm not just a pretty face."
"You're eight."
"A pretty eight-year-old face. Objectively adorable. My mother says it's my greatest weapon."
James didn't know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject. "Information gathering. You work on your father's files. I'll research the test itself through my dad's books."
"What am I looking for specifically?"
"Anything about test equipment. How it's calibrated. What it actually measures. Failure rates, edge cases, documented anomalies." James created a small ice sculpture while he talked, just to keep his hands busy. "The test has been used for thousands of years. There must be documentation."
"And if I find something?"
"We meet here. Same time, every Saturday. We share information, practice magic and try not to accidentally doom ourselves."
"Doom ourselves," Miranda repeated, grinning. "You have a flair for the dramatic."
"I have a flair for accuracy."
She was still smiling, and her thoughts were excited rather than worried.
—finally doing something important, not just waiting to grow up and be boring—
James recognized that feeling. That hunger for significance. It's what had driven Victor Morningstar to study forbidden books, what drove James Aldric to master magic and eventually science.
It's also what got people killed.
But he needed an ally. And Miranda, for all her cheerful recklessness, was smart and motivated and already knew his secret.
"Go," he said. "Before your parents wonder where you are."
"Same time next week?"
"Same time."
Miranda left, thoughts buzzing with excitement. James waited ten minutes, then teleported home in three carefully calculated jumps that left him only moderately nauseous.
In his room, he pulled out his father's collection of magical texts and started researching in earnest.
The Affinity Test: History and Methodology was dry reading but informative. The test dated back to the early days of the Magic Dominion and the Science Imperium, developed as a way to identify magical potential in children and then categorize them for appropriate training.
James made notes, cross-referencing with other books. One text mentioned that test crystals were "grown, not made," suggesting some kind of organic or magical cultivation process. Another noted something about soul gems.
He spent three days reading everything his father had about magical testing, detection, and mana measurement. Built a mental model in his memory palace of how the process probably worked.
Saturday came again and Miranda arrived at the mill with news.
"Found something," she said, slightly breathless. "Dad has a whole file on Affinity Testing procedures. Didn't get to read all of it, but I memorized what I could."
She pulled out her own notebook, flipped to a page covered in hurried writing. "The test uses something called Mkyr'aan Soul Crystals. They're attuned to different types of mana signatures and glow when exposed to matching affinity."
James's pulse quickened. "How many crystals?"
"Six. One for each major branch. They arrange them in a circle around the subject, then activate them simultaneously. If none of them doesn't glow at all, then you're not suited to be a mage and can try your luck with the Science Imperium if you're smart enough. But if it glows... whichever crystal glows brightest indicates primary affinity. If multiple glow equally, it's dual affinity, which is apparently very rare."
"And if all six glow?"
"The file didn't say. I don't think it's supposed to happen."
James paced the mill, thinking. Six crystals, simultaneous activation, measuring affinity. He clearly still had his scientific intelligence but the plan was always to master magic first.
He could try suppress his mana signature entirely, none would glow. But that would register as having no affinity.
He needed to be more subtle. Suppress five signatures while allowing one through. Make it look like he only had the Eldritch affinity.
"Did your father's file mention how the crystals detect mana?" James asked.
"Something about... soul frequency? Each affinity vibrates differently?" Miranda consulted her notes. "Like how different musical notes have different frequencies. The crystals are tuned to specific frequencies. This is all confusing...
Musical notes. Frequency. Vibration.
James pondered. If mana signatures were like frequencies, he could potentially dampen certain frequencies while amplifying others. That sounded impossible.
"This is a good start," he said. "We're getting somewhere."
"So you can cheat the test?"
"Maybe. If I can figure out precise mana control. If I can learn to suppress specific signatures without suppressing all of them. If—" James stopped himself. "A lot of ifs."
"You have almost four years."
"Three years, seven months."
"You're very exact about that."
"Yes, I am." James created an ice sculpture in his palm, a perfect crystal that was shaped like the hydrogen molecule, two hydrogen atoms bonded together.
Miranda watched the ice form. "Teach me that. The precision thing."
"I don't know how many times I have to spell it out for you. You. Don't. Have an affinity yet."
"But I will. And when I do, I want to be ready."
James studied her. She was eight years old and already thinking about being ready for powers she didn't have yet. Already planning, refusing to be a victim of circumstance like her aunt.
He understood that completely.
"Fine. Theory first. Understanding how mana flows, how to direct it, how to maintain focus." He sat down, gesturing for her to join him. "This will be boring."
"Everything worthwhile is boring at first."
"Did your mother tell you that too?"
"No... Yes..."
"Whatever," he said. "Let's learn control."
They spent the afternoon on meditation techniques, mana awareness exercises, mental discipline. Miranda was a surprisingly good student. Focused when she needed to be, asking intelligent questions and actually practicing instead of just demanding results.
By the end, she could feel her own mana, even if she couldn't manipulate it yet.
"It's warm," she said with her eyes closed in concentration. "Like sunlight inside my chest."
"That's normal. Everyone describes it differently. For me it's more like... electricity? Potential energy waiting to be directed."
"Because you're dramatic?"
"I'm not dramatic."
—he's absolutely dramatic—
Maybe it's not too late to...He purged the thought from his head and simply grunted.
"Next week," he said. "I'll need more information about the crystals."
"I'll work on it. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Be careful. We're researching things we shouldn't be researching. If anyone realizes what we're doing—"
"Yeah, yeah, we're pruned. I know." But Miranda didn't look scared. She looked determined.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Off you go."
They parted ways, Miranda heading home the normal way while James practiced teleportation jumps between trees.
In his room that night, he updated his journal:
Test mechanics discovered: Six Mkyr'aan Soul Crystals, frequency-based detection, simultaneous activation. Possible to cheat if I can suppress specific frequencies while allowing others through. Highly improbable.
Miranda proving more useful than expected.
Three years, seven months until test. Plan forming:
1. Master what frequency each mana signature have
2. Learn to suppress other branches while projecting one
3. Practice until it's reflexive
James closed the journal and practiced mana suppression until exhaustion forced him to sleep. Little did he know that all this didn't mean shit to the test.