“Mr. Mindrattler,” Professor Skillwright interjected. “I should have asked Mr. Lightwell this, but please allow your teammates to go first.”

Casimir frowned, but took a step back. “Of course.”

Tristan volunteered to go first after hearing Bryson’s nervous laugh. 

Their professor reset the box and said, “Perfect, your names?” 

“Tristan Killgore.”

“Casimir Mindrattler.”

“Bryson Rottenborn.”

Casimir heard soft snickers and mumbles from some of his classmates after Bryson said his last name.

Bryson turned red and cursed under his breath, but that only fueled his mockers.

“Begin,” Skillwright announced.

Tristan looked at the box and saw the image of a wilted sapling.

“Water?” Tristan muttered. He presented his pointer finger and crafted a circular pattern of glowing Aetherian threads. They formed together, and a stream of water shot from his hand. The box absorbed the pattern, and the image of the sapling changed into a tree. 

Casimir smiled. Good.

The face of the box then rotated to one that possessed a sailboat. Tristan frowned and took a step back. “I don’t have wind.”

Casimir weaved a semicircular pattern and summoned a Wandering Breeze. The box swallowed it, and the boat sailed away, before the box rotated again, this time to an image of a rock wall. 

Tristan jumped into action and weaved another stream of water. The image of the rock wall shook but stayed the same. The box then rotated back to the image of the sailboat.

“What!” Bryson exclaimed.

“Huh, I thought that water erodes stone,” Tristan shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe after thousands of years of you spraying it,” Fannar said with a laugh.

Bryson glared at Fannar on his friend’s behalf, but the man paid him no mind and yawned.

“It just wasn’t strong enough,” Casimir said, while hitting the box with another Wandering Breeze and returning it to the face of the rock wall. “Try again. I’ll help you out.”

“Alright,” Tristan shot another jet of water at the box, and Casimir weaved a star pattern that formed into a lightning bolt. 

The box absorbed both, and the rock wall was smashed into pieces. Bryson cheered as the rest of the class looked on in wonder. 

“Is that allowed?” Pascal asked.

“Yes, I intended for each team to work together,” Skillwright answered. “I am aware that not all of you have learned every elemental pattern.”

“Where is the challenge, professor?”Alistair asked, while crossing his arms casually. “If they were forced to work alone, wouldn’t it push them to work harder?”

He gave Bryson a side eye. “Sharing a victory with deadweight is unfair.”

Skillwright stroked his chin. “Perhaps later into the course.” 

The box shifted again and landed on the face of an unlit candle. 

 Casimir rubbed his bottom lip. It isn’t lit this time. Well, I could still probably—

“I got this one!” Bryson rushed forward and began weaving a square pattern. 

Casimir watched Bryson’s shaky Aetherian threads with worry and said, “Slow down—”

Skillwright cut in and finished Casimir’s thought. “Mr. Rottenborn, stop! You are going to–”

The Aetherian threads jumbled together and produced a loud pop and flash of light that sent Bryson flying backwards. 

“Ahhh!”

“I got you!” Casimir caught him mid-flight and laid him on the ground. He looked down at Bryson’s hand and saw that his fingertips were bright red and swollen. 

They’re singed off.

Bryson bit his lip in an attempt to keep a brave face, but he trembled with pain. 

Their professor rushed over and held Bryson’s hand, palm up. “Someone, grab the first aid kit on the wall!”  

The crowd of students parted to make way for Tristan to retrieve the kit. Casimir took it from Tristan and began treating Bryson’s wounds with the burn ointment. Professor Skillwright observed Casimir's first aid skills and nodded with approval while he bandaged Bryson’s hand.  

“Damn it,” Bryson said while Tristan and Casimir helped him up. 

Their professor looked at Bryson and sighed, “It is all right, Mr. Rottenborn. Meet me in my office once you return from the nurse.”

“Let’s go,” Tristan said, ushering Bryson away.

“No, I…the” Bryson protested.

“It is fine,” Tristan said. “It is just a game. Nothing worth losing a hand over.”

“But–”

“We lost anyway,” Casimir said, looking at his watch.

Bryson’s face fell, and he lowered his head. “Next time.”

Casimir silently watched Bryson and Tristan leave the classroom, and his peers snickered right when the door closed.

“What was he trying to do?” The blonde girl asked.

“My guess is it was an Aether Arrow,” said her long-faced teammate.

Fannar laughed. “How the hell do you mess up an Aether——”

“Enough of that,” Professor Skillwright snapped. “Although I want us to have fun. I do require a level of decorum. Miscasts sometimes happen to the best of us, especially when we are under pressure. Although speed is important to prevent a pattern failure. We must remember to maintain the correct thread thickness and line quality. ”  

The class quieted down, but a few snickers continued.

“I’ll start the clock again.” Skillwright turned to Casimir. “Finish up for your team.”

Casimir sighed. It can’t be helped.

Casimir weaved another lightning bolt and struck the box with it. The candle set fire, and the box shifted to the face of an angry sun.  He weaved a circular pattern and encased the box in a creeping mist. Like before, the box absorbed his pattern and shifted to the last face, which was a man with a sword.

Too easy. He weaved another star pattern, electrifying his hand, and touched the box with it. The box accepted his pattern and popped open.

“4 minutes and 43 seconds. Not the slowest time,” Skillwright said, stopping his watch. “Thank you, Mr. Mindrattler.” 

Casimir rejoined the class, and the team of two girls and the long-faced man took his place. He groaned when he saw Alistair inching his way towards him.

“No need to gloat,” Casimir whispered, crossing his arms.

Alistair smirked. “Next time around, I hope you learn a fire pattern. There is no need to summon lightning to light a candle.”

Casimir rolled his eyes.  

  ***

Neither Tristan nor Bryson returned before class ended. 

The burn wasn’t that bad. He probably didn't come back to avoid the shame. Casimir exited the classroom and overheard his classmates still gossiping about how amazing Alistair was and about Bryson’s screw-up. He kept hearing them ask how, and even he had to wonder. I hope for his sake it was just nerves, but even so, I never received an injury from such a simple pattern. 

Casimir passed the two girls from his class lingering in the hallway.

“Aww, I wish he would catch me like that?”

“He still could if…”

Their voices faded the farther he got away from them.

 “Alright, next is Alchemy. At least Cornelius will be there,” Casimir muttered.