"Hello."

"Hello?"

"Hello!"

The triplets' staggered, harmonized greeting echoed through the whimsical, oversized space of the Scriptorium like a discordant bell tower. The sound bounced off the impossibly high ceiling, where ancient wooden beams disappeared into shadows that seemed to writhe with their own life. Floating shelves lined the walls in defiance of gravity, their contents, books, scrolls, and stranger things, swaying gently as if underwater. The effect of the triplets' synchronized speech was immediately and profoundly irritating to Fin's companions.

"Uh, I can already feel the headache building behind my eyes," Henrik groaned, abandoning any pretense of browsing. His hands pressed against his temples as he shuffled over to a small, mismatched coffee table by the door, a rickety thing that looked like it had been assembled from the remnants of at least three different pieces of furniture. He slumped into an equally mismatched chair, looking utterly defeated. "Why do they have to talk like that?"

Kellan didn't waste time complaining. Instead, he channeled his wind affinity with practiced efficiency, funneling a current of air into a tight vortex around his head. The technique created a visible barrier of shimmering, distorted air that muffled the disorienting effects of the triplets' triple-speak. The wind barrier made his hair dance wildly, but his expression remained stoically focused.

Freya, meanwhile, had her own solution. She reached for the back of her left hand, where an intricate tattoo of a coiled serpent wrapped around her wrist. At her mental command, the tattoo began to move. The black ink peeled away from her skin like liquid shadow, flowing and reshaping itself as it coalesced in her palm. Within seconds, the serpentine ink had transformed into a pair of sleek, black earmuffs. She promptly placed them over her ears, and the tension in her shoulders immediately eased.

Henrik stared at his two friends in mounting disbelief, his mouth hanging open. "Bastards," he muttered under his breath, glaring at their prepared defenses. "Absolute bastards. You could have warned me, you know." When neither of them showed any signs of sympathy, he gave up entirely and slammed his forehead onto the table with a dull, muffled thud that seemed to echo his defeat.

Fin couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the synchronized misery of his new friends. Their dramatic aversion to this place was almost as strange and entertaining as the shop itself. Above them, a book shaped like a bat performed lazy loops through the air, occasionally letting out tiny, papery squeaks. Near the back of the shop, a hamster was executing what appeared to be an impressively complex breakdancing routine on a miniature stage, complete with spinning moves that defied several laws of physics.

The whole scene was so absurd that Fin found himself genuinely entertained rather than disturbed. He felt a tug on his sleeve and was pulled away from the spectacle by Nikole, who seemed completely immune to the ambient weirdness. Her expression was one of fond amusement, as if she were watching children react to their first magic show.

"Welcome back." "Welcome back?" "Welcome back!" the triplets chimed in perfect sequence as Nikole and Fin approached the counter. Up close, Fin could see that while they were identical in almost every way, each had distinctly colored horns protruding from their foreheads, one red, one blue, one yellow, and their eyes matched their respective horn colors with an almost hypnotic intensity.

"Hello, girls," Nikole said with an easy familiarity that spoke of many previous visits. "This is my friend, Fin." She gestured towards Fin, who was still trying to track the flight path of the bat-book while simultaneously processing the hamster's surprisingly adept breakdancing routine. The little creature had just executed a perfect windmill spin that would have impressed professional dancers. Noticing his continued distraction, Nikole lightly flicked him in the ear with practiced precision.

"Ouch," Fin yelped, turning to glare at her before realizing his mistake. The moment he made the sound, all three sets of identical, brightly colored eyes locked onto him with laser focus. The intensity of their combined gaze was almost physical. "Oh! Sorry, it's nice to meet you all. My name is Fin Aodh."

The red-horned triplet stepped forward slightly, her smile warm and genuine. "I am Velka." The blue-horned one gave a quizzical tilt of her head, as if she were asking a question rather than making a statement. "I am Vira?" The yellow-horned one clapped her hands together with obvious delight, practically bouncing on her toes. "I am Vala!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Fin said, offering a small, slightly awkward bow. He'd never been quite sure of the proper etiquette when meeting magical shopkeepers, and the triplets' synchronized nature made the situation even more uncertain.

They all smiled at him in perfect, unnerving unison, their expressions identical down to the smallest detail. Then, without warning, their heads snapped to the side as one, their gazes fixing on a heavy wooden crossbeam near the front door. The movement was so sudden and coordinated that it sent a chill down Fin's spine.

"Bird." "Bird?" "Bird!"

Fin and Nikole immediately turned to look at the same spot, their eyes scanning the aged wood and the dust motes that danced in the magical light filtering through the shop's enchanted windows. The beam looked perfectly ordinary, old, weathered, and completely empty. "What bird?" Nikole asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't see anything up there."

The triplets looked down from the beam, their expressions suddenly unreadable, as if they had shifted into a different mode entirely. Their cheerful demeanor had been replaced by something more serious, more dangerous. "Not yours." "Not yours?" "Not yours!"

The implication hung in the air like a blade. Fin and Nikole exchanged a look of mutual understanding. Whatever was happening here, it was clearly not their business. The triplets had detected something that didn't belong to their customers, and judging by their reaction, it wasn't welcome.

Velka, Vira, and Vala turned their attention back to the crossbeam with focused intensity. With movements so perfectly synchronized they could have been reflections in a three-way mirror, each one raised a slender finger. The air around their hands began to shimmer with building energy.

A pencil-thin jet of crimson flame erupted from Velka's fingertip, its heat so intense that Fin could feel it from across the room. A similar jet of sapphire-blue flame shot from Vira's finger, crackling with electrical energy. A third flame, brilliant yellow and pulsing with raw power, burst from Vala's outstretched digit.

The three streams of colored fire twisted through the air in a beautiful, helical pattern that was mesmerizing to watch. They spiraled around each other in perfect harmony, creating a braided rope of elemental fury before converging on a single, seemingly empty point directly above Henrik's head.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The flames impacted with a sound like shattering crystal. For a split second, a nearly invisible barrier flickered into existence, revealing the outline of a bird that had been meticulously crafted from clay. The detail work was extraordinary, every feather, every curve of the beak, even the tiny talons were perfectly rendered. But it was clearly not a natural creature.

The barrier shattered like spun glass, and the triplets' flames consumed the construct completely, turning it to ash in less than a heartbeat. The entire process had taken maybe three seconds from start to finish.

Henrik yelped in surprise, startled out of his stupor as a fine coating of gray dust settled on the table around him and dusted his hair. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, brushing ash from his shoulders.

Fin, Kellan, and Freya stared at the spot where the bird had been, their previous annoyance completely forgotten and replaced with tense silence. The craftsmanship of the surveillance construct had been exquisite, and the stealth enchantment powerful enough that even Kellan, with his perfect wind affinity and enhanced perception, and Fin with his Electromagnetic Synchronization, hadn't detected its presence.

Fin's mind immediately flashed to the golem he'd encountered in the academy library. The Order, or whoever had inherited their ancient secrets and techniques, was clearly still watching. Still hunting. The thought sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the shop.

As if they hadn't just incinerated a high-level surveillance construct with casual efficiency, the triplets turned back to the counter. Their cheerful, customer-service smiles snapped back into place like masks, though Fin noticed their eyes remained slightly harder than before.

"How can we help you." "How can we help you?" "How can we help you!"

Fin stared at them for a moment, his mind still reeling from what he'd just witnessed. These weren't just quirky shopkeepers, they were clearly powerful mages in their own right, and dangerous ones at that. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and focus on why he'd come here. "Oh, uh, yeah. I was wondering… do you have any lightning-based skill tomes?"

Without a word, Vira held out her open palm toward the chaotic swarm of fluttering tomes that filled the air above them. From the aerial dance of books, five volumes detached themselves with purpose and flew towards the counter, arranging themselves in a neat, orderly line before Fin.

He picked up the first one, noting its surprisingly light weight. The cover was plain brown leather, the title embossed in simple gold lettering. Static Pop. He opened it and read the description aloud: "Emits a tiny jolt of non-lethal electricity from your fingertip, suitable for pranks and startling small pets."

Nikole read the skill description over his shoulder, her expression growing increasingly unimpressed. "Well, that seems profoundly useless for someone of your caliber. Let's move on." She nudged the tome with her finger, and it obediently flew back to whatever shelf it had come from, rejoining the aerial parade.

She picked up the next one, this one bound in blue-gray leather that seemed to hum faintly. Hum Charge. "Creates a low, barely-audible electrical hum in a small radius around you."

"Next," Fin said immediately, already pushing it away before she'd finished reading. The idea of constantly humming with electricity seemed more annoying than useful. He grabbed the third tome, which was bound in silver-white leather that seemed to shimmer. Ion Trail. "Your footsteps leave a faint crackle of lightning behind you for several seconds."

Nikole snorted with amusement. "That would be great if you wanted to advertise your exact position to everyone in a ten-mile radius. Or, I suppose, if you wanted to light up the ground for dramatic effect while you walk. Very theatrical, but not particularly practical."

"Arc Snap," Fin read from the fourth book, which was bound in dark leather with copper wire woven through the binding. "Sends a short-range zap of electricity to a metal object within three feet." He sighed heavily. "This is just Static Pop with a marginally longer range. Barely an improvement."

"Ugh. This is exactly why we hate this place," Freya groaned from across the room, having removed her serpentine earmuffs now that the immediate threat of triplet-speak had passed. "You have to sort through a thousand completely useless trinket-skills to find anything even remotely worthwhile."

"Maybe the last one will be helpful," Nikole said, trying to inject some optimism into her voice though she didn't sound particularly convinced. She picked up the final tome, bound in pale yellow leather. Buzz Pulse. "Sends a weak pulse of electricity through your own veins to keep you slightly more alert." She paused, considering. "Hey, that one might actually be useful for staying awake during late-night study sessions."

"But I can already do that," Fin said with a sigh of his own. He held up his hand and demonstrated, sending a tiny, controlled pulse of mana along his nervous system. The technique caused his fingertips to tingle with a faint electrical charge that was visible as tiny sparks dancing between his fingers. It was a simple application of his lightning affinity, something he could have done even before reaching Tier One.

The triplets watched his casual display with their unsettling, synchronized focus. Their identical eyes tracked every spark, every subtle movement of electrical energy. They saw the last book fly back to its shelf, then they all looked at each other. In that moment, Fin witnessed something remarkable, a silent, instantaneous conversation that seemed to occur entirely through minute changes in expression and tiny shifts in posture. After perhaps two seconds of this wordless communication, they all nodded in perfect unison.

Then, in a voice that was perfectly synchronized, chilling in its coordination, they spoke a single word that seemed to resonate with power.

"Micordo."

The air in the Scriptorium immediately crackled with unleashed magic. A shower of golden sparks and ancient dust erupted over the counter like a miniature fireworks display. From within the shimmering cascade of light and power, a massive tome materialized with a heavy, definitive THUD that shook the entire counter and sent ripples through the tea cups sitting nearby.

The book was absolutely massive, easily three times the size of any normal tome, bound in what looked like petrified, dark-blue hide that seemed to shift color subtly in the light. Silver runes were embossed across its surface, and these mystical symbols seemed to shift and writhe as Fin watched, never quite staying in the same configuration for more than a few seconds. The entire book radiated an aura of immense, dormant power that made the air around it feel thick and charged.

Fin reached out with a hesitant hand and carefully opened the cover. The pages within were made of some material that wasn't quite paper, it felt more substantial, almost like thin sheets of prepared hide. The text on the first page was written in a glowing, runic script that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. His system activated automatically, converting the ancient symbols into readable text.

[Skill Tome: Stormheart Renewal] [Primal] [Type: Passive]

[A skill born from a unique fusion of lightning and life magic. This passive skill transforms the user's heart into a living conduit for residual lightning energy. It constantly and automatically converts ambient electrical energy, the user's own bioelectric currents, and stray lightning-aspected mana into potent regenerative pulses. These pulses actively heal wounds, combat fatigue, and dramatically increase the user's stamina and recovery rate. At higher levels, it can even regenerate lost limbs and purge complex poisons and curses, so long as a source of electrical energy is present.]

Fin read the description once, then read it again more carefully, his eyes widening with each word. He'd never heard of Primal rarity. This wasn't just another skill, this was the missing piece he hadn't even known he was looking for. The perfect synergy between his existing abilities and something entirely new.

With his Taranis Imprint, his body was already a natural conduit and home for lightning energy. With Convergent Equilibrium, his mana core was already operating at peak efficiency, drawing power from multiple sources and converting it with minimal loss. This skill would bridge the gap between them, turning his own life force into a self-sustaining engine of recovery powered by the very element he commanded.

The implications were staggering. Constant regeneration. Enhanced stamina. Automatic healing. All powered by the electrical energy that was already coursing through his body and the ambient lightning mana he naturally attracted.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as the full potential of the skill became clear.

"This is the one," Fin said, his voice filled with absolute certainty.

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