Calludral stared at the artefact. Every time he blinked to refresh his dried eyes, he saw the tetrahedron, or at least its very outline was burned into his very retinas. It sat suspended in its chronomatic chamber, floating up and down as though it was bobbing to the slow lapping of ocean waves. The shape shimmered as its sharpest edgest twinkled. Peering close, the faint illumination from the candelabra beside made its surface appear like a hall of mirrors bouncing light off one another. Then, it turned. Calludral scribbled furiously, his quill darting across the parchment. Movement, his inner voice squealed in excitement, movement at long last. The artefact stopped and resumed its continuous bobbing. He rubbed his eyes, failing to nurse the stinging sensation behind them.

He bounced up and down in his seat. A rhythmic pulse that unsettled his workspace. The earth-splitting tread of heels clacking on the stone floor. Calludral wanted to turn, but instead, he kept his focus. That is what she would want. Focus, no matter what. The artefact might change, it could shift or turn, reveal its contents and allow him to glean upon some untold mysteries. He could not miss such an opportunity. A shadow crept up on him, the footfall growing more disruptive. He turned his head for a moment to see Vylia looming over.

“Deciphered its mysteries yet?” she asked. Her size magnified the power of her voice, giving it a deep bass-like quality. 

“It turned just now,” Calludral flicked through his notes, double-checking to see if this wondrous discovery was not previously recorded. 

Upon his desk were stacks of parchments. Black ink seeped and set into the oak. Wax dripped from a dozen half-melted candles. Most precious of all was the gold disk, which shot a beam of ethereal blue energy to form the chronomatic chamber, keeping it trapped within its grasp. 

“Curious,” she lent forward, “most curious indeed.”

Calludral felt the seismic shift, the hefty movement of enormous weights. With one pair of eyes fixated on the artefact, he felt secure knowing he could now look behind. When he did, Calludral gawped. Two great prodigious dark chocolate mounds poured from a cherry red dress. Vylia’s chest, over-endowed to the extreme, looked as though they were about to pour out from their velvet prison. He shook his head, turned back to the tetrahedron, shifting his seat and pulling at his robes to disguise arousal, lest his tutor notice once again.

“And there have there more alterations?” She planted her hand by the side of Calludral’s desk. It landed with a resounding thud that unsettled his piled high stacks of notes. Mundane movements were enough to cause uproar for his work. Some of the papers settled close by one of her digits. When he walked up to retrieve them, he compared himself once more to check. Her mere fingertip equalled him in height. Calludral huffed.

Of all the teachers in the world, he found the one with a penchant for size magics. At this height, shrunken down to only to almost an inch or so in height, Calludral perceived the natural world as that an insect would. He sat on her work surface, this vast landscape of polished mahogany that stretched far. Beyond the vastness were monolithic bookcases that stretched up high into the heavens above, filled with tomes that rivalled any human house. Even the candles she kept hovering in the air were as thick and mighty as the proudest most ancient of trees in any forest. Yet, this was just one of her many studies, and those may as well have been as far away as the moon. To trek beyond this room would be an odyssey in itself.

“Well Master,” he coughed into his hand and picked up his notes, “several glyphs appeared earlier, which I jotted down and recorded. Whenever there is movement, an arcane symbol appears on one of its sides.”

She loomed in closer. Her chest was near enough that he could reach out and touch it. Subtle floral scents became a thick musk, forcing Calludral to breathe deep of the enticing aroma. 

“Have you deducted any rhyme or reasoning to these patterns?” 

“Time is a factor,” he scratched his head, "it seems incoherent, even with the chronomatic chamber altering the flow.”

“Hmm… unfortunate.” Her hand left his side. She straightened herself.

“But,” he dug out some notes and traced his finger along his writings, “the brightest points within the symbols when connected match the alignment of constellations. With your grace, I could compare my notes to the star charts and see if unlocking this artefact is somehow related."

Calludral turned his chair around to face his elven tutor. Vylia was draped in a long flowing red dress that appeared ill-fitted. Around her chest, down to her hips and thighs, her clothing clad tight, outlining her outrageous curves. She hummed to herself, trying in vain to suppress an astonished smile. She drummed her fingers on her sharp pointed chin. 

“Astromancy is an acquired skill human and far beyond your meagre abilities. Yet, I am pleased with your progress. Thus it appears it is time for your next test,” she mused.

“T-Test?” Calludral stammered. Ice crept down his spine.

“You have done well to study for so long and record so much, but now I must examine your resolve.”

“But M-Master,” he protested, “I have not slept nor-”

“Precisely,” a coy grin formed as her thunderous voice cut him off, “you must prove your endurance to me. Do you baulk at the possibility of deepening your craft human?”

Calludral glanced behind. The shape floated, taunting him with its movements, captivating him like a moth being drawn to the light. It implored him to keep delving, it begged for him to unravel its mysteries. He tensed up. “No. I am ready Master.”

The shackles of gravity slipped away and weightlessness took over. He rose from his chair, stunned, until he shot through the air, his surroundings blurring and meddling as he spun wildly, flailing and howling. His vision returned several images of Vylia’s crimson-red eye dominating his vision. A riot raged in his gut, making him want to be ill. Calludral went to cover his mouth, but could not move his arm. Instead, he was sprayed out like a pinned animal awaiting dissection. 

Vylia’s hand glimmered. Lightning coiled around her index finger. She drew symbols in the air. Calludral's heart plunged.

“Master!” He called out, trying to hide his fear, “t-that incantation! I cannot-”

“Then you will fail my test.” Vylia continued to map interlinking elven letters together.

“But, you can’t!” he stuttered, “it was not designed for-”

“For you kind? No. Of course not. Those of limited intelligence and expertise could never survive seeing but a fraction of the infinite. Even skilled practitioners of your race can be thrown into insanity by the countless futures they witness.”

“Then wh-”

Her finger stopped tracing. Lightning danced and zipped. It was darting incoherently until it went straight up and then arced straight into Calludral’s forehead. He thought there would be pain, he had opened his mouth to scream. Instead, he saw Vylia, her rose red lips right before him. A gargantuan tongue came out to lick them. He trembled in fright. Against his will, Calludral could feel his manhood twitch in excitement. He strained against his invisible shackles, desperate to hide his shame. Vylia's titter rattled his skull. 

“My, my student,” each annunciation was enough to make it feel like his body was going to burst, “I did not realise my spell would have such a carnal effect.”

Calludral’s clothes disintegrated away, scattering into nothing. His nude body was laid bare, his erection on display. Vylia held a hand to her face to hide her merriment. Calludral's face burned red. He wanted to speak out, to say something in his defence, but all his words began to jumble in his mind. Calludral recalled speaking, then in the same instance, he did not. He then thought he had given an eloquent speech, professed his love for his tutor, cursed her for shrinking him or raged at the stupidity of her tests. He heard himself each time and each way he dealt with this moment with Vylia. Each response rose slowly then rang in his ears, all his voices forming an ear-splitting dirge.

Vylia inched herself closer, her lips parting, allowing her breath to smash against him like a storm wind. Her tongue snaked out and slathered him, his sight engulfed by a tide of red. Saliva dripped from him as she sampled her student. When she paused, Calludral’s eye already rolled into the back of his head. His body spasmed, his member erect and hard. Vylia’s traced her finger through the air one more. Small hexes covered her tiny student. She came back, ravenous for more.

Though it was no thicker than her fingernail, Vylia’s lip could find purchase on his manhood. It was hard to even see Calludral this close. One errant move, a simple inhale could shatter her grasp on him and send him into her mouth and down her throat in an instant. Yet, she sucked away as best she could, wondering how her student felt at having such rich smooth lips plying at his dick. Every so often, she would take her tongue and use its tip to rub against his shaft. She wondered what her other selves were doing to him, what tricks they were playing. Vylia considered a choice, allowing another aspect of herself to follow through with that notion on her tiny student. For now, she was content with sucking away.

Calludral was lost. Lost in a sea of possibilities, every beating pulse of his heart caused a ripple. Every bit of destiny that could be was all playing out simultaneously. Across the infinitude, every instance started here with Vylia toying with him. Countless visions of a dark-chocolate-skinned elf playing with his member, her lips enveloping his dick and sucking until he felt all the life and energy drain. From all the experiences that crossed time and space, he could feel the warmth of her lips, each glorious sensation combining with the last. 

Tongues drenched him, kisses enveloped him, soft fingertips caressing his dick. Then events forked. In one, he found himself trapped in her cleavage, using her prodigious breasts to trap him. From there, she cupped her chest and squashed him, or massaged his tiny body. Then in another, she was rubbing him against her nipple. On and on, he beheld the spawning of futures where Vylia satisfied herself with him. It was too much for one mind to bear. They were happening and yet they were not. He could feel incalculable pleasures that spawned from the moment Vylia wanted to test with him. He saw it all, felt it all as Calludral’s rapture pierced the barriers between futures.

No release came. It was stuck, holding at the tip. He grunted, he groaned, his body howled out for sweet release. Every nerve ending felt aflame. Yet it sat there, building, growing, developing out the more she had her way with him. In some possibilities, he saw Vylia taunting him for not being able to come, others she was doting and caring. So many versions and visions of his tutor playing out, then going instantly back to messing and toying with his manhood. Above it all, cutting through the madness was the desire to come. Soon, that was all there was. His senses failed and his mind melted from the sensations that pierced dimensions. He lost himself across the infinite.

Vylia smiled. With a final lick, she then opened her mouth. Then both spells ended. Across all his futures, they collapsed down one by one. A tether came. Calludral sensed a balance returning to his consciousness. He was freed from witnessing all his possible fates that spun out from this moment with his tutor. As he beheld only the present, one painful urge remained. Calludral strained against his invisible shackles, crying aloud with a roar of ecstasy. He finally came. His cum shot into the gaping maw of Vlyia who lapped it up with delight, savouring each petty shot that landed on the great expanse of her tongue. Just when she thought he would stop, more came gushing out, until at last, her student went limp.

Eldritch tattoos lit on Vylia’s body. She felt a rush of strength, laughing in delight. Such delicious mana, she thought, such rejuvenation! 

Her hands trembled, unable to contain the surge of power flowing through her. Vylia closed her eyes and threw her arms to her side and allowed it to happen. The elf’s body shot up to the roof, gaining twenty feet’s worth of height in an instant. She massaged her breast, twiddled with an erect nipple, unleashing a reverberating moan that shook the foundations of her illustrious tower. All she had to was raise her hand and utilise this surge. A mere flick and she could scour continents clean of life, split tectonic plates with a thought, clench her fist and shatter the moons above. Then, a serene calmness took over, draining her of the intoxication. She contained the rush. Infused, Vylia felt stronger than ever before.

Haggard and worn from exhaustion, Calludral hung in the air, cum dripping from his half-erect member. He blinked a few times, unable to make sense of the sea of red before him. Another blink let him come face to face with a gargantuan crimson eye engulfing his view. Her frantic pants blasted him. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her luxurious mane was frazzled and wild.

“You’ve done well student,” Vylia licked her lips.

“T-thank,” Calludral’s husky voice meeked out, “thank you, Master.” 

“I shall give you time to recuperate from this. Rest now, for come first light, new trials shall await you.”

Calludral barely summoned the strength to nod. When he did, a flash of light came. He found himself back in the middle of his room, now cleaned and wearing his typical grey robes. Gravity returned and he collapsed onto the hard wooden floor with a thud. Through blurred vision, he saw his room. On one side was a bed, two desks at the other. Both workplaces were swamped with tomes and scrolls. There was little room between, barely five steps from the end of the bed. 

Blue energy swirled before him. Food and drink materialised. Steam wisped from a plate lined with an assortment of freshly cooked meats. A whole spit-roasted bird, browned crispy bits of bacon, and seared cuts of steak. Alongside the feast was a tankard of mead. The very smell gifted him renewed vigour. He clawed his way towards it, forced himself to stand. He cleared a spot on his desk as best he could and devoured the feast.

Vylia spied on her student with an invisible eye within the room, watching him scoff down mouthfuls and take such swigs the mead trickled down his chin. She giggled to herself and ended the vision, allowing him a modicum of peace. The elf wandered down a row her in her study, passing by an archives worth of tomes stacked high on shelves that raced up to the illusion of the night-sky cast on the ceiling. A small oval door was cast into one of the shelves, so minute that even the smallest runt of a rat would not be able to fit through it. That little mousehole led to her student’s room, a quaint microscopic abode. A befitting accommodation for a human, lest he forgets his place next to an elven master.

Then, turning her attentions instead to the ruins of the study, Vylia huffed. Her growth caused quite a mess. The table on which Calludral sat was upturned, her growth throwing it on its side. With a thought, the desk levitated and then returned to its proper position, along with the study spot she had miniaturized. All those specks of papers, as well as the artefact, all rest where they should. Vylia closed her hands. When they reopened, the tetrahedron appeared in the left, and all Calludral’s notes in her right, which were now back to normal size. She read through his notes and smiled in joy. 

Calludral’s notes were detailed and precise, even when his mental fortitude was waining. He categorised each of the symbols that flashed on The Aeonic Cypher, jotted thoughts about their importance. A string of lucid analysis that was ever thinking about the significance. No matter how minute or how improbable, he catalogued and recorded it. Vylia could not help but sustain her grin, as much as she wanted to scrutinize his work. Calludral was on the cusp of discovery when he wanted to compare his work to complied star charts. She whisked away the notes and the artefact back onto the desk, happy with his progress. Her pupil not only could perform rigorous examinations of magical properties but could then go on to endure a spell that even the sagest human wizard would be humbled by. 

She sat down at the desk and sighed. The taste of his semen came back, reminiscing on all those tests where the bliss of his mana shot into her mouth. Even those little spurts were enough. So much energy, so much power. Calludral’s cum was becoming more invigorating. He had only grown stronger the more he studied. With further honing of his talent, Vylia dreamt of the day she would surpass even the Autarch in might thanks to Calludral. The elf quivered in lustful excitement. She wiggled in her chair, unable to sit still. An idle hand slipped down to her underwear, her other was circling around her nipple. She bit her lip just thinking of her pupil.

What fortune to be witness to such a prodigy, she thought.

Then, she froze. Vylia expelled the notion. Affection for a human, she thought, how could I even dare to love one? 

Vylia drummed in the thought that Calludral was only her student, nothing more. She could feed on his mana to enhance herself, that was it. That was the only reason she accepted to be his tutor. Vylia saw his natural ability, how gifted he was before the other elves could steal him away. To love one so short-lived would only bring the onset of madness. For she was thousands of years old and to her, Calludral’s life could be spent with a blink of her eye. In just a flicker, an idle lapse on the present, and her student would be one with the earth. She would endure, as all the elves did. 

Yet, no matter how much she buried any feelings for him, she could not help but find the welling of emotion for her sole student overwhelming her millennia-long disdain for humanity. None had gotten this far. None across the epochs could ever endure the tutelage Vylia, the sizemancer.  

I have to break him, she thought, desperately concocting another humiliating test for him. She looked down at her heels. A devilish grin leered.

Calludral fell to one knee, wiping a thick coating of sweat from his brow. His robes stuck to his body like a wet sheet. Part of him wanted to strip them off, thinking it would be easier to climb yet another strange brown mountain. The ground beneath was rough and uneven, making every step was treacherous. He pulled down his makeshift mask, torn from part of his attire. The rank tangy smell soured his nostrils. Taking a swig from his waterskin, he shielded his eyes. 

Beams of light pierced through gaps between dark clouds above, illuminating what appeared to be an unending mountain range that rolled off into the distance. Beyond that was the grandest yet darkest peak he ever laid eyes on. Some many leagues away, a monolithic pillar dominated the area. Formed of the same brown as the peaks he scaled, the pillar stretched high, breaching through the thick cloud layer. It was the only thing of note compared to the rolling mountains. Calludral pulled up his bandana around his nose and set off towards it as instructed. 

Vylia sipped tea and lounged in her chair, an upholstered, twill fabric seat with accented button tufting. The leather creaked as Vylia nestled herself deep. She waved her hand and a scroll shot off from the upper section of her study. It swirled and landed into her open palm. Vylia kept movements as minimal as possible, resisting the urge to cross her legs. With a yawn, she read from the parchment.

Flickering lights formed in front of her. Shards of glass slithered forth, building up a fractured mirror. She rolled her eyes, and waved the shattered glass forward. It’s surfaced rippled. An image of a pallid beauty appeared.

“Resting so early in the day dearest Vylia?” her voice was smooth, seductive and overwhelmingly soft to the ear. 

“Of course Sylveth," she seethed, "the ravages of tutelage do so take their toll.” 

Sylveth tittered, “it must be so vexing to have but one student to care for.”

Vylia placed the scroll down on the side table, tutting aloud, “is there a point to this invasion of my privacy, or must I disintegrate this glass messenger of yours again?”

“Come now sizemancer, can we elves not confide? I wish to merely discuss certain matters with you,” Slyveth’s purple eyes darkened, “preferably in person.”

Vylia’s eyebrow shot up in curiosity. She nodded. The mirror flickered out of existence. Fist-sized balls of fire swirled high in the air. More and more spawned then shot together, slamming and moulding until they formed the outline of a tall athletic woman. Like a snake shedding its skin, the fire fell away and died, revealing Sylveth. She placed one hand on her hip, using the other to flick her shoulder-length mane of white and silvery hair. Then, she offered a long sweeping bow, more mocking than courteous. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this rather impromptu meeting,” Sylveth raised her head, sneering in poorly veiled contempt.

“What was so urgent that you would teleport yourself here,” Vylia snapped.

“Matters of The Convocation, ones that I felt were more pertinent to discuss in person rather than through a glass messenger.”

The Convocation, the regulators of magical practitioners. An overseeing body human kingdoms that was created in order to keep arcane abilities in check. Its many arms keep account of mages, ensuring the proper training of those with who display talent, but maintaining order. Whilst royalty may keep the most powerful of wizards or sorcerers in their council, so to do they keep one or more of the Convocations templar brethren by their side. For when there is dissent amongst those who bend reality to whim, the templar’s crushing fist is swift to impose order. 

Vylia tutted, “of what importance is that council to me?”

Slyveth was muted until she rose a hand and asked, “may I?” 

Vlyia nodded. Slyveth conjured a chair and then seated herself. Her sneer disappeared.

“The Convocation has issued summonings. All humans are being called to serve.”

Vylia stared, examining Slyveth with utmost scrutiny. Either she was serious or she had perfected an ability to hide her snideness. Both possibilities troubled her.

“Have they come from your students then?” she asked Slyveth.

Slyveth’s jaw clenched. A vein bulged on her forehead. The statuesque features cracked from her rage, “yes. I had just begun to induct another and he too was taken. They are all being whisked away as we speak.”

“Again, I must reiterate, of what importance is this to me?”

“I wish to give you forewarning. They will come from your student, as they did mine.”

“They can try,” Vylia took a pensive sip from her tea. 

“You are going to rebel against the Convocation?” Slyveth scoffed in shock at the stupidity.

“I am not beholden to the wishes of some human conclave, nor should any elven magi be,” Vylia's lips curled, “truly then, it is most shocking that I am to find Slyveth surrender such lesser practitioners over to a bunch of witless-” 

Vylia blinked. In that flicker of darkness, the tip of a chrome blade was right before her, ready to pierce her eye. Syleth’s purple dress waved like she was caught in a storm. Tendrils of teal energy flowed from her pale body. 

“Mock me all you wish sizemancer,” Slyveth hissed through gritted teeth, “but dare to cast your baseless aspersions on my pupils at your own peril.”   

Vylia rolled her eyes and then rose her hands in surrender, "a mere jest Slyveth, nothing more."

The chrome blade dispersed, as did the energy surrounding Sylveth. Both elves paused. The silence between them allowed them to regain their composure. Sylveth returned to her seat, cleared her throat and restarted the conversation. 

“It is why I wish for your student to join with mine.”

“Oh?”

“Knowing the…” Sylveth’s grimaced for a moment, “gruelling tasks typical of your degenerate school, the one student you have forged will prove himself in the times ahead.”

“Degenerate? Size alteration is nought but a branch of magic.”

Slyveth shot her a icy glare, “is that why you only shrink humans and beasts indiscriminately but grow only yourself?”

Vylia blushed and turned her head. 

“Enough of this prattling. Allow me to test your pupil.”

A hint of concern flashed on Vylia’s face for a moment, “you wish to examine him?”

Sylveth smiled and leant back in her chair, “do not fret Vylia, I shan’t apply myself fully. I do not intend to harm a human that has survived so long beneath such a wizened sizemancer. I wish to asses his progress, nothing more."

Vylia frowned, eyeing up Sylveth, “you wish to meet him now? He is occupied with some rather, shall we say, minute matters.”

Slyveth paused to examine Vylia's expression, weary of what she might be concocting, “I do wish it.”

“Very well Slyveth, I shall acquiesce,” a whisper of a grin came to Vylia’s face as energy coalesced around her hands, “allow me to take you to him.”

Slyveth scowled, “what manner of trick-”

Calludral winded his way through one of the many valleys. He kept a floating light beside him as he wandered through, illuminating the darkness. Down this far, the bit of light that snuck through did not reach this far. The walls around him provided him shelter from the continuous booming thunder above. The ground beneath quaked, making him stumble along the bumps on the path. All the ground was uneven. This far below, the humidity seemed even worse. He noted there were no streams, no rocks or stones, no grassland. Whatever place this was, it was not natural. Nothing about this place could sustain life. He shook his head, focusing instead on traversing this plane. He needed to muster as much strength to cross the many mountains and valleys still ahead that barred his path to the pillar.    

Coming up to a dead end, he muttered his incantations. Imbued with the ability to climb like a spider, he clamoured his way up. After some time, he scaled until the top levelled out. Again, from this vantage, he could survey the emptiness and examine the oddity. As he recuperated, a flash of light forced him to shield his eyes. He heard a honied voice speak.

“-ery are you-” it then abruptly stopped, followed by a series of harsh gagging. 

When Calludral looked, he saw Sylveth. The glorious elf slackened. She had her hands on her knees, coughing and covering her sharp pointed nose. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head before her. 

“Master Slyveth!” he cried aloud.  

A series of protective wards appeared over Slyveth’s robes. She finally stood upright, meeting with a prostrating human atop a brown mountain. The air was stagnant, the smell as putrid as a bog. Not even the depths of the jungles were as humid as this place. Even sunlight was a luxury, for little light pierced the dark brown canopy way above. She analysed the land. A vein bulged on her forehead as her jaw clenched. The bitch shrunk her. She cast her mind outward to understand to what extent she had shrunk her. They were on her heel. Those grand-ranging mountains were mere bumps in the leather that was indecipherable at a normal height. That monolithic pillar was nothing more than a toe strap. Her mind snapped back. They were on her heel between Vylia's toes. A quake cascaded. Those two horizon stretching peaks around them shifted, throwing both to their feet. Thunder boomed once more as the land settled.

“I will butcher that sizemancer once this is done,” Slyveth growled. 

“M-Master?” 

Slyveth’s piercing gaze fell on Calludral, “how you have withstood this proves one thing at least, but now I require more.” 

Calludral rose his head, his befuddled look met with Sylveth’s dark grimace. Turquoise snakes danced around Sylveth’s form. She cast a hand to her side. Liquid metal flowed. A thin yet long falchion formed from shimmering chrome materialised in her hand. Her robes burnt away, replaced instead by ostentatious armour. The elf was covered in purple plate mail upon which were decorative ivory swirls trimmed with hold. Silver hair radiated hot white, purple eyes aglow, Slyveth primed herself and pointed her blade at him. Proud angelic wings sprouted and spread from her back.

“Defend yourself, student of Vylia!” she roared. 

Calludral went to speak. Slyvth, fast as a bolt of lightning, raced towards him. He put his hand out. A circle of blue energy formed. It bore the brunt of the blade as the elf slammed into Calludral. Her movements were precise, clean and scarcely perceptible. She moved with speed that the human eye struggled to keep up. No sooner had she dashed him did she retract her blade then unleashed a series of swipes. An onslaught of blows came from every direction. He grit his teeth, holding on as best he could, muttering under his breath. He needed time. Time to think, time that the elven master would not give. It had to be perfect. The shield spell Calludral cast cracked, then shattered.

He pounced back, stumbled, tried to regain his balance, but Slvyeth was already upon him. Lost in the fury of the moment, she thrust her blade into his body, throwing all her weight and might into a single blow. There was no wet crunch, no snapping of bones and tearing of muscle. She ploughed through Calludral with no resistance whatsoever. Lifting up high, she hung in the air fifteen feet off the ground, wings spread aloft like a triumphant valkyrie. Calludral was nowhere to be seen. She tittered. 

Saved by his master, she thought as she levitated back down, perhaps she does hold some emotion for humanity.

A torrent of water shot at her from her left. Using her wing to shield herself, she cursed and peered beyond the wild spray. A lightning whip cracked to life. Calludral formed, the veil of invisibility dropping from him. Like a frenzied lioness, Slyveth hurled herself towards him once more, counting on her speed to reach his before the lighting could strike the water. The whip made contact. Violent energy crackled. Electricity danced and arced across the elf. Slyveth shrieked, losing control as she flew. Calludral lept to the side as the elf hurtled past. She screamed in agony, crashing and then rolling on the uneven ground.    

Calludral fought to catch his breath. Wisps of dark smoke rose from the elf. The thunder cracked, heralding another earthquake. He stood his ground, keeping his eyes fixed on Slyveth. When he regained his balance, he heard the clinking of metal. Calludral felt his stomach plunge. Slyveth had risen to her feet, patted down her armour. She flicked her hair and then turned towards Calludral, now ready to face him. Not even a mark on her face. No burns, nothing. The malevolent glare dissipated from the elf’s face, replaced now with a hearty grin.

“I am satisfied.” Slyveth stated, “though I quibble with your teacher’s sordid approach, it does appear that her methods can be somewhat effective.” 

Calludral kept up his guard, even as she approached him. She cast her hand out to her side. The chrome blade that was flung from her side during her crash returned, whizzing through the air until she caught it. He gulped. He used her metal armour to his advantage as best he could. Calludral cursed that he was not yet versed enough to heat metal spontaneously. Casting a string of spells back to back like this drained him. He shimmied back more, attempting to hide his exhaustion.

Slyveth stood unwavering. Twirling her fingers, lingering electricity zipped between her digits, taunting Calludral. His ingenuity meant little to one who saw far beyond his skill. By the time Calludral calculated other possible tactics, Slyveth was already towering over him. With a snap of her fingers, her armour, wings and sword faded away. Now, she was back in her dress.

“You should visit my academy when you tire of Vylia. I would be honoured to have someone of your talent within my halls.”

Deep ominous rumbling bellowed and the uproar it heralded was cataclysmic. Calludral was thrown to the floor. Slyveth remained firm, unable to contain her smirk.

“Now then, let us turn to more important matters,” Slyveth cleared her throat and shook a fist at the sky, “I know you are watching Vylia! Cease this at once!”

Rhythmic booms echoed. Wisps spun around both Calludral and Slyveth. When their bodies were enveloped by them, both were teleported away. In an instant, both stood before Vylia, who took off her brown heels, chucking them away. She planted her feet on the footstool, wiggling her toes and tittering at Sylveth.  

“My my Slyveth,” Vylia’s grin stretched from ear to ear, “what is that look for? Did you not find any joy in appraising my student?”

Slyveth shot her a stare of pure malevolence, “play those tricks upon your student,” she hissed, “but shrink me at your own peril sizemancer.”

Vylia gasped in feign shock, “oh how my heart quails before Slyveth, master of martial perfection!”

Slyveth clenched her fist. Energy radiated, illuminating her form in a blood-red glow. Calludral stepped back; Vylia sipped her tea. As quick as the uproar came, it dissipated. Slyveth inhaled then exhaled all her fury, maintaining her composure. Instead, she offered Vylia a quick bow of the head.

“Thank you dearest Vylia for your company,” she sneered. Slyveth turned to Calludral and addressed him with a quick nod, “conquer with courage young human.”

Flame surrounded Slvyeth as she teleported away. Vylia sighed, deflating into chair as she drummed the armrest. 

Calludral took a pensive step towards her, “Master?” 

So lost in thought, Vylia failed to respond. She stared off into the distance. Then she sighed and lumbered out of her chair. Calludral knelt. 

“You didn’t reach my to- I mean the tower did you? Was that not your test today?” Vylia rubbed her chin, acting as though she were pondering over punishments. Calludral trembled, wondering if he had indeed upset his master.

“Yet," she sighed, "you have done me quite the service. Though your spellcasting is still somewhat clumsy, I was most impressed.”

Calludral's quivering ceased. His jaw dropped. A compliment? he thought.

"You were composed, despite the nature of your foe. You strung together lesser conjurations, relying more on ingenuity rather than sheer force. All this whilst trekking across lands most alien."

“Because of your lessons, Master,” he bowed his head.

“Quite so, yet many pupils oft fail to heed the lessons of their betters. On this day, any less and you would have shamed me in front of a peer.” Vylia's rosey voice darkened, "and I do not like being shamed."

Her cold visage cracked. She could not help but smile at her student, “therefore, I deem that you have passed this, my final test. No longer are you a foreign novice,” she stood in front of Calludral and beckoned him stand. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I can no longer deny nor question your fortitude. Few, if any of your race are worthy of induction into the greater mysteries, yet you have proved to me here and now, you are deserving of further tutelage.”

For a moment, he saw his master’s eyes twinkle, "thus do you stand as an apprentice." An errant tear all too swiftly snuffed a blink. There was a warmth to her voice, “my apprentice.”

His knees weakened. It was hard to stand. Acceptance, after so long. He choked up, unable to utter a thank you. Vylia’s smile was all he needed to see. So many tests, so much shrinking. He could at last walk among the vast libraries of an elf’s tower. His mind raced with possibilities. Thousands of years of elven studying into magic, so many records and tomes and parchments no other human would have laid eyes on. 

“However,” her voice became dryer, her hand slipping from his shoulder, “your studies must wait. News of great import has arrived my student. You will be under secondment of the Convocation.”

His heart froze. “I… am to leave you?”

Vylia sat back on her chair, crossed her legs, “for a period, yes.”

Calludral’s face dropped. He became hollow at the thought. He sacrificed too much, struggled through all her tests. To be ripped away now from his master at the time of his greatest triumph. “Can I refuse them? Can you? I… I cannot be drawn away, not now! There is still the Aeonic Cypher to unlock, the-” 

Vylia rose a hand to silence him. She let silence reign for a while to let the weight of the situation settle onto Calludral. She broke it with a heavy sigh, “sadly, I must acquiesce. They suggested you as one worthy of an elf's time, and it appears they have some merit in finding talent, thus I must abide if they call you to serve. Consider then the next stage in your ascension to mastery.”

His eyes darted about. She was masquerading it. He knew this was nothing more than just another test. He wanted to scream, furious that there were yet more barriers. He closed his eyes, breathed in and out. The rage subsided and he asked, “how will I know it is complete-”

He was interrupted by the abrupt lack of gravity. Calludral floated towards Vylia as the world and his master around became larger. She pursed her glossy lips and his inch-tall body was smushed into them. Vylia pressed him in softly, rubbing her tiny student such that he would be smothered from all angles. She cooed as he wiggled and writhed, stuck within her telekinetic grasp. Retracting him away, her tongue came to slather him. Vylia could sense his rising excitement. It was overpowering, so much so that she felt a tingle racing through her, rising more and more as her student embraced her barrage of kisses. The more stress she placed upon him, the more his mana grew in strength. Nanoscopic shrinking then a short duel with an elf. All those spurts of his now would be all the richer.

The mere thought he was to leave sparked a frenzy within her. She could be without him for days, maybe weeks. He would age like a fine wine, but she had already tasted him and drunk deep. He was still weak from yesterday but the trials of today have been a boon. The first little drop of cum seeped through his robes. The rush swept through her in an instant. In a maddened state, Vylia fumbled in slipping off her panties, near enough to tear them away just to work her womanhood. Mana seeped from her student, each morsel whipping up an evergrowing and furious lust within her. She hastened, her fingers plunging faster and harder, her lewd cries growing louder with her thrust. One hand by her crotch, the other cupping a breast. Heat rose from within, her pace doubling when she heard her student's meek moans.

Calludral was already lost once more. Pressed against his master's lips, his manhood hardened. The roaring bass of Vylia's moans rang in his ears. Vibrations blended with the warmth of her lips. All he could understand of the world now was red. Recourse came when he drifted away from her face. Her panting raged like a hurricane. When Calludral looked down beyond his cum-stained robes, Vylia's dress was gone, her voluptuous body glistening beneath candlelight. A rumbling came. Her gargantuan hand snatched him. His back against her palm, he was whisked away to her nipple. Calludral squirmed and licked the great mound, much to his master's delight. The rumbles from before paled in comparison to the dirge Vylia was unleashing now. When it peaked into a skull-splitting crescendo, he was fully pressed into her nipple. Vylia's massaging of her breast now entombed him and then warm milk erupted like a geyser, drenching him.

Calludral's head spun, his vision swirling. When he could see normally once more, he found himself resting atop Vylia's breast. Milk dribbled down. He looked up. Vylia ran a hand through her glorious hair, licking cum-drenched fingers clean. He wobbled and then collapsed onto her boob, too exhausted to do anymore, fully expecting to be teleported to his room like so many times before. Instead, he was left there to rest. He attuned himself to the rhythmic rise and fall. Up and down, up and down. Vylia's soft breathing wafted over. The beat of her heart a faint tremor. Her finger loomed above. The giant stroked him.

Vylia simmered down. She caressed her tiny student, that little faint dot on her chest. Free from the vices of carnal desires, clarity came over her instead. For all her wisdom and knowledge, it took word of his temporary departure to understand the depths of her infatuation with Calludral. He was everything and more. A font of mana, a student, a lover. So many years of disdain for the petulant race fading away. No longer could she use her contempt as a shield or as a means to distance herself. She sighed, both with relief and mourning. The heartbreak was inevitable now. Destiny was cruel to set this into motion, but it was beyond her petty control. If fate decreed this bond, so too did it foretell tragedy.

As Calludral drifted to sleep, his world fell into darkness. He promised to return to her. No matter what would come.