The warmth hit first. Reed felt it on his cheek—soft, like the sun had found a gap through the clouds just for him. His eyes opened slowly. A ceiling, unfamiliar and smooth, came into focus above him. Pale stone, patterned with gentle etchings of swirling vines and leaves. Not the same as the dormitory's rough ceilings. Not the MAR cell's angular walls, either.
For a moment, he didn't move. His body felt heavy, but not in a bad way. More like how you feel after swimming in a cold lake, drying off, and wrapping up in a blanket under the sun.
"Ah, he's awake," came a voice nearby—calm and measured.
Reed turned his head slowly. Beside the bed sat Halren, arms folded over his chest. The instructor's usual stern expression had softened, his eyes a touch more thoughtful than before.
"You're in the infirmary wing," Halren said, standing. "After your evaluation… well, you gave us all a bit of a scare."
Reed sat up with effort, noting the soft mattress beneath him and the warm blankets tucked around his legs. A faint herbal scent filled the air—lavender, maybe something minty too. It was cozy in here. Almost like home.
"What… happened?" Reed asked, voice hoarse.
Halren ran a hand through his graying hair. "You passed out. The amount of mana—whatever that was—overwhelmed your system. Burned you out."
"I didn't… I didn't mean to lose control."
"I know," Halren said quietly. He looked toward the window. Afternoon light filtered in through latticed glass, casting leafy shadows onto the stone floor.
Reed swallowed. "Does that mean I failed the MAR?"
"No." Halren turned back to him. "It means your results are… inconclusive."
"Inconclusive," Reed echoed, bitterly.
The silence sat between them for a moment before Halren continued, more gently, "Magic isn't always something the tester can understand. Not at first. Not every mage fits into a category. And that's not necessarily a bad thing."
"But I didn't even get an affinity. No spells. You said it yourself—it's just darkness."
Halren hesitated. "What I said… was that I couldn't sense any of the normal spells. What you did display was far from nothing. Whatever your magic is, it's powerful—and unstable. But it's still yours."
Reed looked down at his hands. They trembled slightly, as if remembering the shadow's embrace.
"Your mark," Halren said after a pause. "The skull-shaped one. Has it… always reacted to your will?"
Reed nodded.
"That's not a natural mark," Halren murmured. "It didn't come from our normal power systeml."
The room felt colder suddenly, despite the sunlight.
Before Reed could ask more, there was a knock at the door. It opened to reveal Marek, holding two small covered trays. His usual smug expression was missing—replaced by something that looked a lot like concern.
Halren raised an eyebrow. "Did you raid the dining hall?"
"I asked politely," Marek muttered, stepping in. "They said he hadn't eaten all day."
"Thank you," Halren said, surprisingly soft. "That was thoughtful."
Marek blinked. "...Right."
He walked over and placed one of the trays beside Reed's bed, the other he set down on a nearby chair. "Bread, soup, and fruit. Nothing fancy, but you'll live."
Reed gave a quiet, grateful smile. "Thanks."
Marek lingered awkwardly for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, uh… sorry. For being rude to you. I didn't think you'd, y'know… turn into a demon cloud or whatever."
Reed chuckled softly. "I didn't either."
Marek looked away, then added, "You looked like you were hurting. Afterward. Like it drained everything out of you."
"It did."
A pause.
"You gonna be okay?"
"I don't know."
Marek nodded, then sat down beside the second tray and pulled the lid off. "Well… eat something. Soup fixes like half the world's problems, or so my grandma says."
Halren cleared his throat. "I'll leave you boys to it. Reed, once you've regained your strength, come see me. We'll figure out where to go from here."
He exited without another word, letting the door close gently behind him.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet shared between people who were still figuring each other out—but didn't mind doing it slowly.
Reed picked up the spoon and took a cautious sip. Warm, slightly salty vegetable broth. His stomach groaned in response.
Marek smirked. "See? Told you."
They ate for a while in silence, the late afternoon sun painting golden shapes across the floor.
Eventually, Marek leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "You ever wonder what happens to us if we can't use normal spells?"
Reed paused, then nodded. "Yeah."
"I mean, they say magic's supposed to be like a river. Flowing through everyone differently, but still there. But you…" Marek frowned. "You're like a void. Like the river just goes around you."
"That's comforting," Reed said dryly.
Marek snorted. "Didn't mean it like that. Just… it's weird. But not bad. You're still here. You're not broken."
Reed didn't respond right away.
He thought of his mother's face when he left the village. How proud she looked. How hopeful. The last thing she said to him—"No matter what happens, just do your best. That's enough for me."
"I just want to help her," Reed said suddenly. "Move her somewhere nice. Give her something better."
Marek looked over. "Your mom?"
Reed nodded. "She's all I've got, other than my little sister of course."
Marek was quiet for a moment. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness, he said, "Mine passed when I was little. Dad too. I got taken in by a weird family of tinkers up north. Good people. Loud. Messy. But they're not… mine."
Reed looked over at him, surprised. Marek shrugged.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I like them. But I think I came here hoping I'd find something that felt more like mine. Y'know?"
Reed nodded again. "Yeah."
The door creaked open once more. Lannis stepped in, arms still folded, expression unreadable.
"You two done having your little soup therapy session?"
Marek rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too, Lannis."
She glanced at Reed. "Glad you're not dead."
"Thanks," Reed said, half-smiling.
She stepped further in, leaned against the wall. "What you did back there scared the hell out of everyone. Harlen had three instructors on standby before you even hit the ground."
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know," she interrupted. "That's not what I'm saying. I've just… never seen anything like that. Not even in the higher-year tournaments. It wasn't just shadows. It was something else. Something cold."
"Yeah, well," Marek muttered, "we're all a little messed up in our own special ways."
Lannis rolled her eyes. "Sure, but he's on a whole different tier of messed up."
Reed sighed. "Can we not call it that?"
"No promises."
There was a long pause, then Reed looked between them.
"So… do you think they'll kick me out?"
Lannis scoffed. "No. If anything, they'll probably assign you five extra instructors and stick you in every test chamber they've got."
"Yeah," Marek agreed. "You're a walking mystery box. They'll study you before they ever think about expelling you."
Reed let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
For the first time since the test, he let himself lean back and relax a little.
He wasn't alone. He had friends—however strange and sarcastic—and a path forward, however unclear.
Whatever came next… he'd face it with his eyes open.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.