Lysander woke before dawn, his mind alert despite minimal sleep. Today's classes would be merely a prelude to the evening's true objective: the first attempt to remove his magical blockage.
He slipped from bed and performed a series of breathing exercises—techniques he'd mastered in his previous life to strengthen his magical channels. Though the blockage prevented significant power flow, he could still condition the pathways.
"You're up early," Marcus observed, stirring from his own bed.
"Couldn't sleep," Lysander replied. "Too much to think about."
Marcus nodded sympathetically. "First week at the Academy is overwhelming for everyone. Can't imagine what it's like for you with all the extra attention."
"Extra scrutiny, you mean," Lysander corrected with a wry smile. "Half the students think I manipulated my way into Arcanum."
"And the other half?"
"Are waiting to see me fail spectacularly." Lysander completed a final breathing sequence. "Both will be disappointed."
Their first class was Practical Applications with Master Farin, who wasted no time targeting Lysander.
"Prince Aurelian," Farin announced, "demonstrate a basic kinetic displacement."
It was a simple spell for moving objects—first-year material, but designed to expose Lysander's weakness. In his previous life, he had failed this demonstration humiliatingly.
Lysander approached the practice table where a series of wooden blocks awaited. He raised his hand and focused, deliberately channeling minimal power to avoid triggering the severe pain that came with pushing against his blockage.
The smallest block trembled, then slid six inches—a weak performance by Academy standards, but significantly better than his previous failure.
Master Farin frowned. "Minimal competence, Your Highness. Take your seat."
As Lysander returned to his desk, he noticed Elara watching him intently. She leaned close as he sat. "You were holding back," she whispered. "Why?"
"What makes you think that?" he asked quietly.
"Your magical signature fluctuated before settling. I have sensors." She tapped a thin silver bracelet on her wrist. "House Silverwind specializes in quantifying magical output."
Lysander studied her with new interest. "We should talk sometime. Privately."
"Intriguing offer, Your Highness," she replied with a hint of a smile. "The east garden after dinner?"
Lysander shook his head. "I have a prior commitment. Tomorrow?"
"I'll look forward to it."
During the midday meal, Lysander strategically chose a seat that allowed him to observe the dining hall while appearing casually isolated. He noted which students grouped together, which remained apart, and which watched others with particular interest.
His observations were interrupted when a tall, aristocratic student from House Drakos approached his table. Lysander recognized him immediately—Cassius Drakos, nephew to General Thorn and future military leader in the civil war.
"Prince Lysander," Cassius said loudly enough for nearby tables to hear. "How convenient to find you alone."
"Hardly alone in a crowded dining hall," Lysander replied calmly. "How may I help you, Mr. Drakos?"
"I bring a message from Crown Prince Darius." Cassius leaned closer. "He's pleased you've found your place at the Academy and wishes you to know he's watching your progress with great interest."
A threat wrapped in courtesy—exactly Darius's style. In his previous life, this moment had intimidated Lysander. Now, it merely confirmed his brother's predictability.
"Please convey my gratitude for his continued attention," Lysander replied. "I wouldn't want to disappoint him."
Cassius studied him, clearly expecting more reaction. "He also suggests caution in forming new associations. Some at the Academy have... questionable allegiances."
"A prudent reminder. Though I imagine we might differ on which allegiances qualify as questionable."
The subtle defiance wasn't lost on Cassius, whose eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed, Your Highness. Good day." He departed with a stiff bow.
The afternoon brought Historical Theory with Professor Thorne, who conducted the class without acknowledging their upcoming private session. Lysander participated minimally, careful not to draw additional attention before tonight's critical work.
When evening finally arrived, Lysander made his way to Thorne's office, his heart racing with anticipation. This time, the professor wasn't alone.
"Prince Lysander, this is Magister Selene," Thorne introduced an elderly woman with piercing blue eyes. "A specialist in healing magic and an old friend."
"A discrete old friend," Selene added pointedly. "One who understands the delicacy of tonight's work."
Lysander bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your assistance, Magister."
"Selene will monitor your vital responses while I begin addressing the blockage," Thorne explained, gesturing to a reclining chair positioned in the center of a complex magical circle inscribed on the floor. "This first session will be diagnostic and preparatory. We won't attempt to remove the entire blockage tonight—that would be dangerous."
"I understand," Lysander replied, taking his position in the chair.
"This will be uncomfortable," Thorne warned, "possibly painful. We can stop at any point."
"I'm prepared."
Thorne nodded and began the ritual, his hands moving in precise patterns as he chanted in the ancient magical language. Selene positioned herself beside Lysander, her fingers resting lightly on his temples.
As Thorne's magic connected with the blockage, Lysander felt the familiar resistance transform into searing pain. He gritted his teeth, determined not to show weakness.
"Remarkable construction," Thorne murmured. "Multiple layers, self-reinforcing. This was created by a master of Umbra magic."
"His vital channels are stressed but stable," Selene reported. "The blockage is integrated with his natural pathways—as if placed during early development."
"Infancy," Thorne agreed. "Before his magical system fully formed." His brow furrowed in concentration. "I'm identifying the outermost layer now."
The pain intensified as Thorne probed deeper into the magical construct. Blood began to trickle from Lysander's nose, but he remained silent, focusing on his breathing.
"There," Thorne said finally. "I've isolated one segment—a restriction specifically targeting Anima pathways to the frontal lobe. I believe we can safely remove this portion tonight."
Selene frowned. "It will cause considerable discomfort."
"Better to suffer briefly now than remain crippled forever," Lysander said firmly.
Thorne nodded and began the extraction process, his fingers tracing glowing sigils in the air. The pain became blinding, and Lysander tasted blood as he bit the inside of his cheek.
A sudden crack of magical energy filled the room as the first layer of the blockage shattered. Lysander gasped as power rushed through the newly opened channel—a trickle compared to his true potential, but overwhelming after years of restriction.
"Breathe, Your Highness," Selene instructed, her hands steady on his temples. "Allow the energy to settle naturally."
For several minutes, Lysander focused on integrating the freed magic, directing it through the appropriate pathways as he'd learned in his previous life. Gradually, the chaos subsided, leaving him exhausted but exhilarated.
"Remarkable recovery," Selene commented. "You adapt quickly to magical changes."
"Indeed," Thorne agreed, studying Lysander with renewed interest. "Most would be incapacitated after such a procedure."
Lysander wiped the blood from his face. "What exactly did you remove?"
"A barrier specifically blocking your ability to sense living energy," Thorne explained. "A fundamental aspect of Anima magic. The blockage remains largely intact, but you should now have access to basic sensing abilities."
"Who would have the skill to create such a complex blockage?" Lysander asked, though he had his suspicions.
Thorne and Selene exchanged a glance. "Very few," Thorne said carefully. "All of them connected to the imperial court."
"Including members of your own family," Selene added bluntly. "The technique bears hallmarks of royal magical training."
Lysander absorbed this confirmation of his suspicions. "When can we continue the removal?"
"Not for at least a week," Selene insisted. "Your system needs time to stabilize."
"Until then, practice with your new abilities," Thorne advised. "Quietly. The less attention you draw to these changes, the better."
As Lysander left the office, he experimentally reached out with his newly accessible sense. Immediately, the living energy of plants, insects, and distant students became visible to his magical perception—faint glowing auras of varying intensity.
The first step was complete. His path to power had begun.