Frostilicus sat alone at an open table inside a massive library. The structure was bigger than the royal library in Hailstone Keep.

Spiraling bookcases of books made up the columns of the massive building. Shelf after shelf contained countless books, manuscripts, and even scrolls in every language and every era. Five, this place had to be older than Capscatia itself.

The building was also eerily cold.

The frost mages kept it chilled just enough to preserve the pages on each book. The coldness kept them from crumbling to dust over the millennia.

Frostilicus was told that the more ancient tomes were kept in the stacks down below. Apparently, the library went deep underground and contained a plethora of ancient scripts. These required special privileges to review.

But Frost didn't have that kind of time on his hands. Not now anyway.

He was mostly interested in finding out more about what blending was and why it was so important. Alex had recommended a basic primer on the five ancient magics—frost, blood, oil, vine, and metal.

He thought it strange that he'd never heard of any of these magical abilities aside from frost forming. Alex had explained that it was because they were wiped out over a thousand years ago.

One particularly old book laid them out clearly—On the Five Magical Liquids by Hieronymous Wren. He turned to the first page.

All magic involves the modification of liquid into some greater metaphysical form using the second of the Five Causes. When a mage pulls on liquid matter for which he has developed an affinity, he or she is briefly stepping outside of time and space in order and granting a higher form of existence to the liquid.

Frost scratched his head. What did that even mean? He still didn't understand the five causes. Perhaps he should find another book on that. Or wait and see if Master Alderton would explain it.

He continued reading.

A mage can pulls on an amorphous, formless liquid. When magic is applied, a mage metaphysically pulls the substance into a higher plane of existence thus granting a form or shape where none was before.

For a frost mage, this is an object such as a chair or a table. For a blood mage, this may be muscle, tissue, bone, an entire limb, or even a body itself. For a vine mage pulling on water mixed with chlorophyll, this may be a new vine or branch. The job of a mage is to pull a basic thing into a greater thing. This can be accomplished only with much training. Each magic has different limitations that apply.

That was interesting. Frost flipped ahead. What did it have to say about frost magic?

Frost magic is the easiest to wield because of the abundance of water. The ability to use frost magic is also very common among mankind.

Great, so Frost wasn't special after all.

However, using it well and effectively is difficult and rare. Frost magic typically pulls water into a solid form, hence the term frost. The mage must be intimately familiar with that form. It usually requires years of working in a particular trade or profession before one is able to frost form an object. Only by truly mastering a real-world craft can a frost mage reach his or her highest potential.

Nothing he didn't know already. What about blending? He skimmed the page for something on the topic.

A key limitation of frost magic is implied in its name. It freezes water, fixing it in place. In doing so, it is inherently isolating. Some speculate that this is reflected in the persona of frost mages generally, who tend to be separatist in nature. They avoid interaction with others even to the point of passivity.

In any case, frozen objects are by their nature very difficult to blend except and only in theory under extreme force. Even then, they do not stay blended but separate back out to native forms.

Ok, Frost thought to himself. That didn't tell him much, but it was a start. But what exactly was blending? He skipped ahead to the other sections.

A blood mage controls blood in the way that a frost mage does water. However, whereas a frost mage creates forms from his mind, a blood mage uses blood itself to create flesh. A blood mage can only control his or her own blood, but is able to circumvet this constraint by sharing his or her bood with others. In doing so, the mage gains influence over the biological characteristics of the imparted creature.

Blood magic, while not common in the world, can be shared with others through the transfusion of a mage's own blood, known as a blending. This transference kills the receiver. And yet, through death, the receiving creature gains the blood magic of its infuser, taking on supernatural strength through blood magic. The more willing and receptive the receiver, the more potent the magic. (A willing sacrifice is the most powerful of all) Even as its body begins to decay on the inside, it gains powers beyond what it could ever hope to achieve in life.

Frost paused for a moment and reread the last line. The body begins to decay?

Suddenly he realized why the dire bear meat was off. There was something about it that had been...wrong somehow. He realized why Frolick and several of the other escaped prisoners felt sick to their stomachs after eating it.

It was the decaying, rotting dire bear meat.

The blood magic within the dire bears kept the stench at bay and it kept the bear fighting at a ferocious level. The layer of frost they had applied to the food added a further layer of cover, sealing it up and preventing the rot from setting in.

The bears had been decaying, even while alive. Five, he was lucky they didn't die of food sickness after that meal. Frostilicus grabbed his stomach and felt it rumble at the mere thought of what he had eaten. Gritting his teeth, he held back a desire to hurl. Then he turned his attention back to the book.

Blood magic is considered the highest of the five magics because it involves the human form. It is not intrinsically evil but uses of such power have often been used for evil purposes. For example, the creation of monstrosities such as dire soldiers or animals.

Frost shuddered as he read the page. Dire soldiers. Dire bears. That was what he had encountered when he faced the Flintlock. Did that mean that—that they were using blood magic? Did a blood mage create the dire bears he'd encountered?

It was all starting to make sense now. The Flintlock weren't just using advanced technology. They were using blood magic. He continued.

Blood magic can also be used to heal virtually any disease and, in some case, bring back the dead.

Interesting. Every magic could be used for evil or good. Perhaps there was a redemptive quality to blood magic? He doubted that there was any such quality to the Flintlock.

However, it is worth noting that blood magic is very costly. To use it properly it must be fueled by blood itself—sacrificing the living, particularly those with magical abilities.

Frostilicus gawked. Did that mean—? He finally understood why the Flintlock were hunting frost mages. They were blood sacrifices that only fueled the power of their blood mage overlords.

His hands balled into fists. Those sick, sick, wretched men. They would pay. He couldn't stomach reading much more about blood magic. It was literally nauseating him.

So he turned the page.

Like blood magic, vine magic controls the liquid substance within plants, which is a mixture of water and chlorophyll. Use of plant magic allows the wielder to control the growth of branches, vines, flowers, and roots of any type of plant he or she has seeded.

A vine mage must consume the seeds of a plant. After consumption, the mage will have limited ability to control a specific type of plant.

Very neat. Frost wished he had that ability. Much more pleasant to learn about thatn blood magic. He wondered if there were any living vine mages left in the world. He'd certainly never met one before.

Vine magic can also blend the characteristics of a variety of plants with one another. The magical powers compound in efficacy as a result of this. For example, producing grapes sized as apples in a winery or boxwood bushes with spiked branches for fencing in a ranch. Vine magic is also very stable. Once a plant is seeded it can continue to live for the remainder of its lifetime in that particuar form.

A key theme Frost was picking up on was that each magical ability involved blending its basic substance with others—whether it was blood or plant juice, a mage compounded his powers through interaction.

In contrast, a frost mage could only create a sort of faux version of an object. A versatile, nimble power yet one that could only do one thing. Still, each power had its limitations. Blood magic required sacrifices, vine magic required seeds, frost magic required years of craftsmanship.

He wondered what the other two magics were? Oil and metal. He skimmed the sections briefly.

They seemed to have very limited usefulness in comparison. Oil magic required a black substance typically found in deep mines. Not very practical except perhaps in very unique situations such as war. It wasn't as if there was a lot of black oil just laying around out in the open.

Metal magic was also useful primarily in blacksmitheries. Metal had to be melted down before a metal mage could form it. Not a bad skill to have on hand in his line of work. But probably not useful elsewhere.

Frostilicus again pondered the point about blending. He didn't quite understand why it mattered. Why should it lead the frost mages to question existence itself? That didn't seem to make sense.

Then again, they were a very philosophical lot. After all, Master Alderton, a philosophy professor, was the chair of the Master's Tribunal.

Frost managed to blend Halorax's form with his own. So what? He scratched his head. It didn't make sense why they would care so much.

Maybe it was more significant than he initially thought. In each of the ancient magics he had read about, blending compounded the ability. A blood mage could create a dire soldier or heal a dying man by mixing blood. A plant mage could create new types of more effective plants my mixing seed types. If a frost mage could blend frost with other frost mages, then could they create more interesting forms?

The more he thought about it, the more compelling the idea. It took years to learn to craft a sword. But what if a frost mage only needed to craft the hilt of the blade and another crafted the blade? That would be a lot less work with more specialization. It would require more mages but in the right setting it could be more efficient.

For a wagon or even more complex forms of machinery, imagine what a number of frost mages could create working together. Like cogs in a machine, they could create, they could engineer all sorts of wonders in the blink of an eye with only minimal training required. Who knew what the limit would ultimately be?

It was an interesting thought. Frost stroked his chin. Still, it felt like it was only part of the answer. Not entierly convicing on its own. Like all things having to do with the frost mages, there was not doubt a hidden story to be uncovered.

It also wasn't clear why he was able to blend his frost form with Halorax's. Why could no one else do it? That was still a mystery to him.

But he felt that he was one step closer to the truth.

He would take the next step tomorrow. After all, tomorrow was his first day in Master Alderton's philosophy class.