Jace woke with his hand twisted in the sheets.

  The curtain by the window hung still. Pale light traced the wall across from the bed and reached over the floorboards, but didn’t touch his boots.

  He did not move at once.

  A board creaked in the hallway. Metal struck ceramic below. Someone crossed the lower floor.

  He released the sheet.

  His fingers left faint creases in the fabric.

  He sat up and placed both feet on the floor. The wood felt cool beneath his soles.

  He pressed his palm to his chest and felt his pulse, steady and clear.

  He inhaled through his nose and held the breath. No tightness. No burn.

  He exhaled.

  No pressure built behind his eyes.

  He slowly stood and looked around.

  The room was neat and orderly. There was a narrow desk under the window, a wash basin on a stand, a slightly crooked mirror, and a satchel beside the chair.

  He turned his head to the desk, and there, sitting on the desk, was the tome.

  He waited. There was no glow, no tremor.

  He rested his palm against the cover.

  It felt warm—not just on the surface, but from within.

  He withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers.

  The veins beneath his skin felt active.

  A familiar voice rose within him.

  “You remain intact,” Zgal’Kaeth

  Jace did not react.

  “I expected there to be more pain,” he whispered.

  “What did you expect?” Zhal’Kaeth asked, “A spectacle?”

  Jace’s jaw tightened, a muscle pulsing as he clenched his teeth.

  “Usually, these actions have consequences. This time, there were none,” he said, his tone flat.

  “That may be,” Zhal’Kaeth said as if he was smiling, “but you have changed.”

  Jace gripped the edge of the desk.

  “How have I changed?” he asked.

  “You are able to assimilate toxins,” Zhal’Kaeth said flatly.

  Jace looked at his hands.

  “All I did was ingest a shard.”

  “That was the catalyst that started the change.”

  Jace’s fingers tightened against the desk hard enough for the wood to press into his palm.

  “You had no permission to make any change,” he protested.

  “You were the one who accepted the shard,” Zhal’Kaeth said quickly, “and ingested it.”

  Jace exhaled through his nose.

  “You said last night that we can not speak without the tome being near. But will you speak when others are near?”

  “You are the only one that can hear me,” Zhal’Kaeth confirmed, “but I would recommend keeping the tome hidden.”

  Jace opened the top drawer of his desk.

  Glass droppers rested beside a corked vial of solvent used for cleaning ink stains from parchment.

  He lifted the vial and turned it between his fingers.

  He knew its composition. A mild irritant. A bitter vapor.

  He uncorked it.

  The scent rose.

  The smell was sharp and chemical.

  His inhale stopped midway.

  Not from irritation.

  From clarity.

  He noticed the vapor in layers: a sharp top note, a bitter undertone, and the tension between them.

  He stepped back.

  He had never perceived it this way.

  He brought it closer again.

  The vapor touched the back of his throat.

  No cough.

  No sting in his eyes.

  He sensed an internal map forming on its own.

  Chain length. Binding tension. The reaction it would produce if left on the skin.

  His body did not absorb the solvent.

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  His body catalogued it.

  He gripped the desk.

  Heat moved along the inner vein from wrist to elbow.

  He corked the vial and set it down.

  The sensation eased but did not disappear.

  “What did you change?”

  “I changed your capacity,” Zhal’Kaeth said, ”you don't need to ingest to recognize.”

  Jace crossed to the mirror.

  His reflection met him without distortion.

  His pupils were steady. His skin tone looked the same.

  He pressed his thumb against the inside of his forearm.

  An indentation formed.

  He watched it fade.

  Slower than he expected.

  He pressed harder.

  His skin resisted more than it had the day before.

  A footstep sounded in the hallway.

  He stepped away from the mirror.

  He slid the vial back into the drawer and closed it.

  He put the tome in his satchel and buckled the strap.

  A knock struck the door.

  “Jace?”

  Cali’s voice carried through the door.

  He nudged the satchel farther beneath the desk with his foot.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened halfway.

  Cali stood framed by light from the hallway. Hair tied back. Sleeves rolled.

  She looked at him without smiling.

  “You’re awake already,” she said, surprised.

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  She stepped inside.

  He shifted slightly, blocking her view of the desk.

  She paused.

  “You’re holding your shoulders too high.”

  He lowered them.

  “You’re staring,” Cali said, eyes narrowing.

  “I am not,” he protested

  “Yes, you are.”

  She moved closer.

  “You’re not blinking.”

  He met her gaze and blinked once.

  She studied his face.

  “Your eyes look… sharper.”

  “That is not something that can be measured,” he argued.

  “You feel… different.”

  “I feel stable. Honestly, Cali, I feel fine,” he said while holding her eyes.

  She crossed to the window and pushed it open a fraction. Cool air entered.

  “You said you didn’t sleep well.”

  “I slept enough.”

  She turned back.

  “You’re not supposed to look like you’re about to be examined.”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “I am about to be examined.”

  “It’s a Trial.” She folded her arms. “Are you not excited?”

  “Excitement distorts reality.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re already in your head.”

  He walked over to the basin and splashed water onto his face.

  The cold struck his skin.

  He did not flinch.

  He felt the sensation in layers: the change in temperature, a trace of minerals, and a faint metallic note from the basin.

  He dried his face.

  “You’re hiding something,” Cali accused.

  “I am not hiding anything.”

  She watched him.

  “What did you read last night?” Cali questioned sharply.

  “The book I checked out.”

  “About poison?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you are not bringing that book with you today,” Cali pointed to the book.

  “I am not showing it off, if that's what you mean.”

  He turned away and reached for his boots.

  She glanced toward his desk and then to the satchel on the floor.

  “You’re taking it?” Cali accused after not finding the book on the desk.

  “I don't see why not, it's just a book.”

  She did not move.

  “You didn’t eat properly before the entrance exam last year. You did this same thing.”

  “I ate,” Jace protested.

  “You picked at it.”

  With a huff, Jace relented. “I will eat.”

  She held his gaze a moment longer, then stepped toward the door.

  “Breakfast is done and waiting for you.”

  “I’ll be down once I get ready.”

  She left, closing the door tight.

  Silence returned.

  “You should leave the tome at home,” Zhal’Kaeth suggested.

  “Why? It is just a book.” Jace protested. “Also, what if something goes wrong and I need your insight?”

  Zhal’Kaeth didn't say anything for a short time.

  “As long as you keep it hidden.”

  “That was the plan,” Jace smiled.

  He opened the drawer once more.

  He removed the vial and uncorked it again.

  The vapor rose.

  Recognition occurred faster this time.

  The structure resolved almost immediately.

  He corked it and returned it to the drawer.

  He closed the drawer and pressed his palm flat against the wood.

  The warmth in his veins persisted.

  He lifted the satchel and stepped into the hallway.

  The scent of breakfast reached him before he descended the stairs.

  He smelled bread, cooked grain, and the heat from the metal pan.

  The smells separated without effort.

  He paused on the landing and gripped the railing.

  The polish carried faint chemical notes from the cleaning oil applied two nights prior.

  He had not noticed that before.

  He tightened his grip.

  Heat flickered along his spine.

  He released the railing.

  He descended.

  His mother stood near the stove.

  “You’re up early.”

  He nodded.

  Cali sat at the table.

  She watched him sit opposite her.

  He reached for bread.

  He recognized the scent of yeast and salt.

  He placed it on his plate and tore a piece.

  He noticed the texture in clear layers.

  He swallowed.

  No discomfort.

  His mother set a cup near his hand.

  He lifted it.

  Steam rose.

  It was an herbal infusion.

  He identified the leaves without effort.

  He drank.

  Cali leaned forward.

  “Jace, you’re too quiet.”

  “I am thinking,” Jace replied.

  “What’s on your mind, Jace?” Their mother asked.

  “Just the order of events.”

  He finished eating.

  He stood looking at Cali.

  “I’m ready to go when you are.”

  Cali rose as well.

  They moved toward the door.

  Morning light crossed the threshold.

  He stepped outside.

  Cool air touched his face, carrying hints of metal, dust, and smoke from a distant cookfire.

  The scent resolved instantly.

  Heat rose beneath his skin.

  His vision narrowed for a breath.

  He steadied it.

  Adjusting the satchel strap on his shoulder while walking beside Cali toward the path leading to the courtyard.