Morning came as it often does, too early.

  Alex blinked awake to the chirp of his ANIP alarm – a quiet chime that faded the moment he stirred.

  His body ached a little, the aftermath of training and new muscles doing new jobs. But nothing like what he thought he’d feel today. And, unlike yesterday, there was no dizziness, no nausea, no static in his head. Just the faint hum of life in the walls of the trainee lodge and the smell of bread drifting from somewhere outside.

  He lay there, practicing his breathing exercises for 15 minutes, then hopped down from his bunk and pulled on the standard-issue trainee outfit – lightweight shirt in brown, reinforced pants also in brown, and boots that had already molded to his feet. Leaving the rest of the guys still sleeping he stepped out of the room and headed outside to get some fresh air.

  The village was almost peaceful at this hour. A few merchants were opening up their doors for the day, smoke curled from chimneys, and somewhere at the edge of town two roosters competed with each other. A few early risers from Class B jogged past toward the training fields, still half-asleep. Victor waved to him on the way by.

  He waved back. It was too early to train… First lessons with Reach weren’t for another hour, but apparently a few people wanted to get an early start. If he were back in his dorm room, he would be setting up a coffee in his Keurig right now.

  Down the main street, the Silver Gate Inn stood like a familiar and comforting dream – the lanterns were extinguished now and the windows reflected the pale morning sun. Alex wanted to head right to the cafeteria for breakfast, but Dr. Holt had sent a request the night before to come see him straight off this morning for a quick followup.

  Yawning, he turned to the right and followed a narrow stone path that sloped toward the village’s east end.

  The apothecary was easy to spot – a tidy two-story shopfront with dried herbs hanging under the eaves and a wooden sign carved with a mortar and pestle entwined with vines. A thin trail of fragrant smoke curled from the chimney. He could see Dr. Holt and a woman talking inside, through the mullioned windows that stretched across the front of the building.

  He hesitated on the threshold, then pushed the door open.

  A bell jingled overhead.

  The front room looked every bit the fantasy herbalist’s dream: shelves lined with glass jars, bundles of roots, corked vials filled with liquids - some that even glowed faintly in the dim light. Alex looked around the room and rubbed his nose at the strong odours. The air smelled of mint, citrus, and something just a little metallic.

  Dr. Holt looked up from behind the counter, smiling. His gray hair was cropped short and his white shirt was half-hidden beneath a rough brown vest to help him blend in with the village aesthetic.

  “Morning, Alex,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Morning, Doc. I’m feeling a lot better today, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Holt gestured to the woman beside him. “Alex, this is my wife, Mei Lin. The real apothecary here,” he said with a smile for her.

  Alex looked at the short woman beside him. She was lithe and graceful as she gave him a little bow. He had never bowed to anyone before, but focused on copying her movement. He tried to go just a little lower which he was pretty sure would indicate respect. He stood back up and saw that she was smiling at him. She was very pretty, with sharp features and, he noticed, ink-stained fingers. Her long black hair was tied with a bright red cloth ribbon behind her.

  “Well,” said the doctor, “Come on through then.”

  Behind the counter a curtain covered a portion of the back wall, and behind the curtain lay what looked like a simple storeroom with crates of herbs, and barrels and sacks of various other ingredients stacked high. Holt closed the curtain again once they had all passed through and pressed a panel in a side wall. There was a soft click and a section of shelving swung inward to reveal a narrow staircase spiraling down into sterile white light.

  Alex smiled and said, “I’m not going to lie, I’m loving all these secret passageways!”

  “Welcome to the least medieval corner of New Earth,” Holt said, starting down the stairs. “Just don’t go around talking about them in public unless you want SHIELD breathing down your neck.”

  “Um, SHIELD?”

  “Strategic Hazard Investigation, Exploration & Logistics Division. Basically base security and world exploration,” said the doctor.

  “Ah.” Alex didn’t know what else to say to that, but he was saved from further comment as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a futuristic medical lab. The air here was crisp and filtered. Smooth walls hummed with hidden machinery. Several consoles flickered softly along the edges of a wide circular room. It looked like someone had cut a slice out of a spaceship and buried it under the village.

  “This is incredible,” Alex murmured.

  “Unlike most corporations I’ve worked for in the past, LOOT doesn’t do ‘halfway’,” Holt said, gesturing for him to sit on a diagnostic chair that was bolted to the floor.

  “LOOT?”

  Holt laughed. “I know! You’re going to run into a lot of acronyms here. Between the TV people and the military folks I honestly don’t know who’s worse. LOOT stands for Logistics Of Offworld Travel… although you will probably hear others say ‘Lots of Otherworldly Trouble’. The good news is, they know they have a goldmine on their hands here, and they don’t pull punches when it comes to providing what we need.”

  Alex nodded and stepped up into the curved chair that was more comfortable than it looked. Unfortunately he was looking at the ceiling and felt like he was about to get tooth work done.

  “Let me get that,” Holt said and did something that made a motor whine. A moment later the chair rose into a more upright position. “Alright. When you arrived, you were pale, feverish, borderline delirious. The allergy meds helped a little yesterday right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ok. You got your ANIP yesterday afternoon right? Tell me what you’re feeling today.”

  “Honestly?” Alex sat. “Fine. Maybe even better than fine. I thought I was barely going to be able to move this morning from all that fighting training yesterday, but other than a little stiffness, I feel great.”

  Holt nodded and tapped on his tablet “Good, glad to hear it.” A soft blue light came emitted from a globe on the ceiling above him and scanned Alex from head to toe. “No more dizziness? Nausea?”

  “Nothing.”

  The Doctor pulled out a hand tool from a rack and looked into Alex’s eyes, then his ears “Good. Could’ve been a bad allergic reaction to something environmental either back on earth or here. You said dust and pine are both triggers?”

  Alex nodded again. “And a bunch of different weeds like Goldenrod.”

  “Goldenrod?” asked Lin, who had mostly been observing up until this point.

  Dr. Holt turned to her and thought for a moment. “Solidago if I remember correctly. On earth it's a member of the Aster family. You have something very similar here. I saw it in the fields outside your town. I think your brother told me it was called Wrinkleleaf.”

  “Wrinkleleaf is not a weed.” Lin looked offended at the idea. “It’s good for stomach and kidney problems and can be used on wounds and burns to stop itching and swelling,” she said.

  “Huh. I have so much to learn from you,” Holt said.

  Alex looked between the two, who were busy staring at each other now and started to feel a little uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, that may be. But goldenrod pollen seriously bothers me. I get red and itchy.”

  Before either of them could respond, the scanner beeped and Holt looked back over the readings on his tablet. He frowned at first, but then relaxed and smiled up at Alex. “Everything seems to check out. Nanonet’s integrating cleanly. Neural response times are a touch faster than baseline, which is good. You might even beat Jay in the reflex drills next time.”

  Alex grinned. “Don’t tell him that. He’s way too competitive.”

  Holt smirked, closing the display. “I think you’re good Alex. If the issue acts up again just let me know. Now that you have the ANIP, you can message me directly from there. And I get alerts on all staff if anything bad happens, so don’t be surprised if I reach out to you before you get a chance. Anything else before you leave?”

  Alex hesitated. He’d been debating whether to mention it at all. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just fatigue or residual HUD artifacts. But the light motes had followed him from the Inn last night. Or rather, the issue of seeing them was still a problem. They were everywhere he looked now, in the lodge, on the street, lying in bed. Even here in the lab. It wasn’t bothering him, and they were usually faint to the point where he didn’t notice, but it was a little distracting.

  “Actually,” he said slowly, “I’ve been… seeing things.”

  Holt’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead in surprise. “Things?”

  “Just… lights. Little floating motes.” Alex struggled to find a way to describe it. “Like dust motes. You know how you can see them in a sun beam on a sunny day? Except I see them everywhere and they glow with their own light. Like, splotches of fuzzy light. I thought it was my ANIP HUD glitching, but it happens even when I turn the display off.” Once Alex started talking he couldn’t stop. TMI.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Holt looked quizzical, clearly thinking hard and trying to figure out what might cause visual hallucinations like Alex described, but Lin stepped in close and looked into Alex’s eyes. Too close really. Alex leaned back in the chair.

  “You see lights?” she asked. “Do they move around, but mostly all together?”

  Alex blinked. “Uh… yes? It’s not a big deal. Probably nothing really, but–”

  “It’s not nothing,” she said, her accent gentle but her tone firm. “Describe this.”

  He tried. “They’re small, maybe the size of fireflies? Golden sometimes, sometimes white. They move in the air, but not like dust – they sort of drift, almost like they’re thinking about it.”

  Holt sighed. “It’s probably a retinal adaptation. His nanonet’s still syncing. Light sensitivity is common.”

  His wife turned and smacked him lightly on the arm. “You know nothing about this world, Marcus.”

  Holt raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been here almost two years.”

  “And you’ve spent both of them pretending what would be impossible in your world isn’t staring you right in the face on mine.”

  Alex sat frozen, uncertain whether to laugh or apologize for listening in.

  She came closer, her gaze softening as she studied him. “Alex Mercer,” she said, as if weighing the value of his name. “You are… interesting.”

  Holt crossed his arms. “You said the same thing about that glowing frog last month.”

  “What!?” Alex looked back and forth at the two of them.

  Lin ignored her husband though and reached out, taking Alex’s wrist gently in one hand and pressing the fingertips of her other hand against the side of his neck. Her skin was cool, her touch steady.

  “Wait, what are you–” Alex started to pull back. He didn’t really like people getting too close and this was very close.

  “Shh.”

  Alex shh’d.

  A pulse of warmth spread from her right hand and ran down his neck and around his torso. It wasn’t pain, more like standing too close to a campfire – heat and pressure mixed with an inexplicable awareness that wasn’t entirely his own.

  Then it was gone. She stepped back, satisfied.

  Holt frowned. “Please tell me you didn’t just Reiki my patient.”

  She ignored him again. “You are not sick, Alex. You are seeing. What you call motes are threads of mana. Some call it qi. Others call it spirit flow, or life current. It is the raw potential that fills this world.”

  Alex blinked. “I’m… seeing magic?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Magic is more about what you do with the mana.”

  “That’s not – I mean, magic isn’t…”

  She tilted her head. “Real?”

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, then, “Yes. I mean no. I mean… that can’t be right.”

  Lin muttered something sharp in her language – his ANIP translated automatically: Foreigners and their narrow eyes.

  Holt rubbed his temples. “Lin, we talked about calling people that.”

  “I didn’t call him that,” she said. “I observed.”

  Alex tried not to smile.

  Lin turned back to him. “This world is full of potential, Alex Mercer. The air, the earth, the rivers – even the stones hum with it. But you seem to have a rare ability to actually see it.”

  He swallowed. “But… Why me? I’m not even from here.”

  “Perhaps your world is not as different as you think.” She shrugged. “Perhaps you just listen well.”

  He blinked. That didn’t make any sense. What did listening have to do with what he was seeing? “Listen to what?”

  “The world,” she said simply. “It whispers constantly, but most are too busy shouting their own thoughts to hear it.”

  Holt cleared his throat. “For the record, we don’t have peer-reviewed data on whispering universes.”

  She turned and gave him a look. “Your data cannot listen either.”

  Turning back to Alex, she motioned him closer to a small table cluttered with bowls and vials that was clearly her own little workspace in the otherwise high tech room.

  “Sit here.” She gestured to a sturdy wooden chair. He sat. She took a few sachets down off a tiered shelf above the table and added various things that looked like herbs and dried flowers to a bowl.

  Once she was done she walked over to a sink and ran the hot water for a few breaths before adding some to the bowl. Returning to the table she got down a whisk that looked like a bamboo shoot that had been split dozens of times on one end, and stirred the contents of the bowl. She handed it to Alex who just looked in at the floating leaves.

  “Medicine? Really, I think I’m fine.”

  “Tea. Drink.”

  Alex didn’t want to offend her so he blew into the bowl which seemed to be hotter than it should be considering she only ran tap water into it. He took a sip. It was good. A little like chamomile.

  “You can see mana. Maybe that is all. But maybe, if you practice, you can learn to interact with it too, manipulate it. Use it to create.”

  He looked down at the bowl in his hand and remembered seeing the light motes at the tavern, sticking to his hand before moving. “I think…” He looked up at her. She was staring at him patiently, giving him the space he needed. “I think I already can.”

  She raised one eyebrow at him and he hurriedly added, “Interact with it I mean. Not use it. At least, a little.” He explained what happened in the tavern the night before.

  Lin smiled. “Ah,” was all she said at first. They just stared at each other. She looked like she wanted to say something, or else was trying to figure out how to say it to him. Eventually she sighed and leaned back in her own chair.

  “There are groups in this world who look at mana differently. And because of how they see it, they use it differently. In my home in the east we call it cultivation – drawing upon the world’s energy, refining it and using it to make oneself greater than you could be on your own. In other places they call it spellcraft – they manipulate the mana with their wills, shaping it, giving it a form of their choosing. Two banks of one river.”

  Alex nodded slowly. “So… cultivators internalize the mana while mages use it external?”

  Her eyes lit with surprise. “Yes. That is a very old distinction but few here would explain it so cleanly. You seem less skeptical than others,” she said, looking at the Doctor.

  “Yeah, it’s a DnD thing i guess,” he said before thinking.

  “Dee and… what?”

  He waved it off. “Never mind, not important.”

  Holt, who was leaning on a counter, watching, provided, “It’s a game that tells stories of magic.” He stood straight and began pacing down the aisle before looking back and asking, “So what does it mean for him? Practically speaking. Is he gonna start glowing and shooting fireballs?”

  Lin ignored him again and reached for a small brass dish on the table. Inside sat a single candle, short and stubby. She placed it on the table between them and struck the brass dish with a small spoon. A hum filled the air.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and held her hand over the candle. The flame flickered to life.

  Alex’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “Most beginners where I am from, once identified, would learn the art of guidance when they were young. Maybe twelve or fourteen,” she said. “To feel or sense mana and touch it with intention. Few can actually see it.” She looked at him for a moment. “Very few. What they are taught begins with the smallest act – stilling the mind and lending your breath to the world’s rhythm. Try it.” She demonstrated a few breaths and then gestured to Alex to try.

  Alex frowned but nodded, it was similar to Reach’s Still Water Breath which had helped relax him yesterday. He inhaled through his nose, slow and steady, held, inhaled a little more then released slowly through pursed lips.

  “Again,” she said.

  He repeated it.

  The air thickened, faintly humming along with the sound of the brass dish. The candle flame seemed to waver – not from his breath, but from something else. Golden motes gathered around it, drawn like dust to static.

  Lin smiled. “Good. You see how it listens?”

  He stared. “That’s me?”

  “That is you and the world agreeing to talk,” she said softly. “The first lesson of mana: it does not obey commands. It responds to conversation.” She frowned at a thought she had, then, “At least, that is how we see it where I am from.”

  He stared at the candle until the edges of his vision shimmered. “So… if I wanted to, I could make the flame move?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “But in time. With practice. You will be able to shape it, brighten it, even call it forth from nothing. A simple light spell taught to children.”

  “To children,” he repeated, almost to himself, and then, “Fire!”

  Lin nodded. “Something to light your way. A fitting beginning for one who sees yes?”

  All Alex could do was nod.

  Holt checked his tablet and sighed. “Alright, Jedi lessons aside, you’re cleared medically. No fever, no infection, no nano-system lags. If your vision, or anything else changes, let me–” he looked over at his wife, “–let us know.”

  “Right,” Alex said.

  Lin looked at him, eyes calm but serious. “You should not speak of this to others yet. Your kind, most of the newcomers, still believe this world's magic is only illusion and camera tricks. Let them keep their comfort until they are ready. Or until you are ready to show them.”

  “I… understand.”

  “Good.” She handed him a small stack of incense sticks wrapped in waxed colour paper. “Try to find time to meditate each day. Lighting one of these will help. It will strengthen your body and focus your mind. You will see, and you will listen better.”

  Holt raised an eyebrow. “Is that approved by Medical?”

  Lin smiled sweetly. “It is incense.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.”

  Alex stood, tucking the package carefully into his pocket. “Thank you. For… this. For everything I mean.”

  She said, “This is just a beginning. I think we will talk more very soon, Alex Mercer.”

  He hesitated at the base of the stairs. “So just… keep breathing? Try to see the lights?”

  “Do not try too hard,” she said. “Simply be still and breathe. The world will find you again.”

  He nodded, unsure what to say to that, and climbed the stairs back towards daylight.

  I object to the word magic. It’s a linguistic surrender, a simpleton’s shrug where analysis should exist.

  When we first arrived, I assumed the locals were mistaking sufficiently advanced phenomena for mysticism, the way medieval peasants might have described electricity. Unfortunately, that assumption no longer holds cleanly.

  I have now observed effects with no discernible technological substrate: materials altering state absent energy input, probability distributions skewed by ritualized intent, objects whose behavior changes depending on who is holding them and, somehow, apparently, what their intent is. These are not illusions. They persist under instrumentation. They recur.

  The only model that has not collapsed under scrutiny treats “magic” as interaction with a denser quantum manifold—regions where entanglement is unusually stable and cognition appears capable of biasing outcomes at the atomic scale. Thought as boundary condition. Belief as catalyst.

  This is not superstition, but it is a physics we do not yet have the math for.

  Research Journal — Personal Notes

  Dr. E. Marrow, Applied Physics, HEX Division

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  Dungeon Inc. // RECRUIT DIV.

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  ? ━━━? THE STORY CONTINUES… ?━━━ ?