She sat restlessly in the dorm room.

  The feeling itself was strange — almost itchy, but on the inside.

  The bed creaked softly beneath her whenever she swung her legs, the sound traveling through the wood frame in little shivers. Beneath her, the mattress yielded in a way she wasn’t used to, swallowing her weight like it might pull her under if she wasn’t careful. It was nothing like the gritty, uneven sand she had always slept on. Every few seconds, she had to plant her feet on the cool floor just to remind herself she wouldn’t sink and disappear into its plush depths.

  But something else — something new — gnawed at her.

  Her feet swung back and forth, back and forth, as her gaze circled the same four narrow walls again and again. The air here didn’t move. The space felt too still. Too small. Every so often, she let out a sigh just to make a sound. Other times, she hummed a single note — “laaa” — or patted her thighs with the palms of her hands, sending dull little thumps into the quiet.

  It had been hours since Vix told her to stay here. The room was cool, much cooler than the desert. But the longer she stayed, the heavier something inside her chest became.

  I don’t like this feeling…

  She reached up and brushed her fingertips across her eyebrows. They felt normal — the shape was the same. Her face felt relaxed. So why did she feel… wrong?

  Her hand slipped lower until it touched the tops of her eyelids. That’s when she noticed it — her eyes were a little more closed than usual.

  That’s how she’d measure this bad feeling, she decided. Not with words. Not with thoughts. But with how much her eyes wanted to close.

  She looked around the room again. The same wooden walls, their edges catching the faintest glints of light. Dust drifted lazily through the air like snow that could never touch the ground. A small table stood beside the bed, holding a large glass ball cradled by an ornate metal stand.

  The bed itself swayed ever so slightly with her legs’ rhythm, the short front leg making it rock forward and back.

  Her gaze wandered upward.

  The top bunk was missing. Even though she’d never seen one before, she knew something belonged there — as if the empty space whispered about what it once held.

  She sighed again.

  She couldn’t take this anymore.

  Pushing herself upright, she stretched her arms high with a small, high-pitched squeak.

  “Is Mister Vix okay…?” she murmured, her voice barely above the still air. She scanned the room again, seeing it from her new height. Somehow it felt smaller now. And duller.

  The novelty was gone.

  Another sigh slipped out. But then, guilt crept in like a shadow. She shouldn’t have stood up. Vix had told her to sit and wait, and now here she was—breaking that promise. What came next must have been her punishment.

  A thud.

  A deep, heavy roll followed.

  Her eyes darted to the table. The glass ball had tipped from its stand and tumbled to the floor, wobbling away like it was trying to escape.

  A new feeling gnawed at her chest — sharp and unfamiliar. She darted forward, crouching to scoop it up, her thin arms wrapping around the cold surface.

  It didn’t budge.

  She grunted, pushing harder, managing to lift it a breath’s width off the floor before it slipped again. Her brows drew together.

  She tried again — this time bending her knees without knowing why. Using her legs, she pushed upward, and to her surprise, the ball rose higher than before. She staggered back toward the bed, every step making her arms tremble.

  With a breathless huff, she dropped it onto the mattress.

  Bent over and panting, she closed her eyes until her breathing eased. When she looked again, she saw the glass sphere sinking into the mattress… until it stopped.

  Her lips parted slightly.

  The ball didn’t disappear.

  That means neither would she. She lowered herself beside it, easing her weight into the plush surface. The mattress accepted her, holding her in place without letting her sink forever.

  It was nothing like the sand she used to sleep on. Nothing like the hard earth she’d curled up on under the sun.

  For the first time in hours, her body finally loosened.

  She let out a long, contented sigh, as though the new bad feeling — dread — had been taken from her chest. Her eyelids sank closed, and her mind drifted back…

  Back to the desert — to the moment her life changed forever.

  #

  The spells slammed into his barrier in relentless bursts, but that shimmering wall didn’t so much as quiver.

  No—this wasn’t like the legendary impenetrable Shield.

  It was the Impenetrable Shield.

  “Uh… Sir!” Rick shouted over the crashes. “You can’t keep that up forever! What’s the plan here?!”

  Vix tilted his head up toward the night sky, almost like Rick’s question had reminded him of something unrelated.

  “Hmm… true. Even this drains mana eventually,” he said, rubbing his chin with his free hand.

  Rick stared at him, slack-shouldered.

  Was this what it was like to be strong? To stare down death like it was mildly inconvenient?

  “Ah! You’re right. I should probably stop wasting my mana,” Vix said with sudden cheer.

  “Wait—stop—how are you going to—?” Rick’s voice caught in his throat as the barrier dissolved in a glittering fade.

  Instinct screamed at him. He raised his arms to shield his face from the volley—

  But nothing hit him.

  Through the small gap between his forearms, he saw it.

  Vix was walking forward. Casually. His hands at his sides. His white wand… sheathed.

  Every blast of fire, lightning, and curse magic bent just off course at the last second, skimming past him as if some invisible thread was tugging them away. His coat didn’t even ripple from the heat.

  “Those are some advanced spells for human street trash,” Vix said evenly, voice carrying with ease. “Impressive mana pools—for something so petty.”

  “Listen, you cocky bastard!” Jerry barked, wand leveled square at Vix’s head. “It’s two against one! Even you can’t win when you’re outmatched! Those kids aren’t lifting a finger for you!”

  Vix didn’t slow. “And you?” he asked, eyes locked forward. “Who do I have the honor of embarrassing tonight?”

  “Name’s Bob,” the tall one said flatly. “Don’t worry about the rest. We just want the girl.”

  “You mean you want to… what? Do something indecent before she’s sold off? Or keep her in a cage like a dog waiting to be neutered?” Vix replied, tone dry enough to cut glass.

  Bob grinned like he’d just been handed a party favor. “Clever! Thanks for the idea, rat.” He raised his wand straight at Vix’s forehead.

  Vix exhaled through his nose. “No… that wasn’t advice. That was an interpretation. You two are… impressively irritating. And given my job, that’s saying something. I think I’d rank you just under the World’s Magical Leaders of Peace.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jerry barked, laughing so hard he bent at the waist.

  “You? Knowing even one of the MLP? That’s impossible! What are you, some high-ranking Enforcer?”

  Vix stopped walking. Dead still. His gaze sharpened to a razor’s edge. “I don’t usually demand respect. But I do admire intellect… something painfully absent tonight.”

  “Whatever! Let’s air this shithead!” Bob snarled, firing a razor-straight lance of flame.

  It was a perfect shot—until Vix wasn’t there anymore. The bolt hit nothing but sand.

  “Did… did he just disappear?!” Jerry stammered.

  “The hell—?!” Bob spun, too slow. A bone-cracking snap split the air.

  “MY ARM!” Bob screamed as Vix materialized behind him, one gloved hand twisting his arm into a lock so clean it looked rehearsed.

  Jerry recovered enough to flick a blade of compressed water—

  Vix batted it aside with the back of his hand like it was a mosquito.

  And then—he was gone again.

  Jerry blinked, and Vix was right in front of him. The knee drove into his gut like a sledgehammer. Air and spit exploded from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground, gagging.

  “You son of a bitch!” Jerry screamed, sending a fist straight up in an attempt to uppercut a ghost.

  Vix had already leapt into the air.

  “Gotcha!” Jerry shouted with a pleased, toothy grin. He fired a ray of plasma directly at him, hoping to land a hit — but to his shock, Vix twisted his body mid-air. It looked as if he were riding the deadly beam like a slide, controlling his fall until he came down on him.

  A fist shot forward, slamming directly into Jerry’s nose. The impact sent him stumbling backward, crashing into the sand.

  Bob’s eyes widened and he quickly drew his wand, conjuring an ice spear. He hurled it straight for Vix’s chest — but Vix caught it one-handed, twirling it like a staff.

  “Thanks!” Vix said casually.

  With a quick, low sweep, he slid the spear across the sand, hooking both men’s ankles in a single motion. They yelped in unison as their feet flew out from under them, landing flat on their backs.

  Jerry groaned, clutching his nose. Bob sat up too fast, swaying dizzily as if the ground itself had punched him.

  “Get… off… me,” Jerry muttered, trying to shove Bob’s arm away.

  Vix just rested the broken spear halves on his shoulder, watching them scramble with a smirk.

  Without a word, Vix drew his wand. Green arcs of light spiraled around both men, snapping into solid glowing chains that yanked their arms behind their backs and anchored them to the dirt. They struggled, the bindings humming in response, unyielding.

  Vix brushed off his gloves, turned, and walked toward the kids with the same casual air as if he’d just finished tying his shoes.

  “This should hold them until morning,” he said with a faint smile. “Public safety will take it from there.”

  Rick stared, still reeling. Vix could’ve bound those men the moment he showed up—but instead, he’d chosen to break them first. Not out of necessity. Out of justice… and maybe a hint of cruelty. It was a display of power wrapped in precise words and impossible movement Rick knew he could never hope to mimic.

  “Who’s the girl?” Vix asked, stepping close enough to see the small figure still curled on the sand, hands clamped over her head.

  “This—this is Rin,” Rick stammered. “She’s… I think she’s lost her memories.”

  “Lost… memories?” Vix’s brow furrowed.

  “She didn’t even know what the moon or the sun were until I told her—just minutes ago.”

  “That’s… not something you see every day.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “How old is she?”

  “She doesn’t have a wand, so… she must be under eleven.”

  “What’s her last name?” Vix asked.

  Rick tilted his head at her. “I… I don’t know.”

  Vix’s brow furrowed.

  “Hmm. Let’s find out. Girl—can you stand?” His voice cut through the warm desert air.

  She didn’t move—still trembling, still shielding her ears.

  “I think she’s blocking out the noise… hold on.” Rick crouched beside her and gently helped her up. The moment she found her feet, she clung to him like a lifeline.

  “Is it over?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Yes. The bad men are gone. You’re safe now.” He tried to smile, though his own hands were still unsteady.

  “Rin, can you answer me something? What’s your last name?” Rick asked.

  “Last… name?” She blinked at him, still looking slightly dazed.

  “Yeah… don’t you have a family name?”

  “A family name? What’s a family?”

  Rick’s jaw tightened. He hissed through his teeth, glancing back at Vix.

  “Girl,” Vix said again.

  Rin shrank back into Rick’s arms, her eyes flicking between the two men.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Rick murmured, softening his tone. “He’s on our side.”

  Her gaze lingered on Rick for a heartbeat before returning—cautious, unsure—to Vix.

  Without another word, Vix stripped the glove from his right hand, revealing pale skin beneath. He lowered himself to one knee, his shadow stretching toward her in the moonlight. Then, he offered his bare hand.

  “It’s alright. I just want to talk. Are you hurt?”

  Hesitating, Rin reached out. Her small hand met his—and froze. His skin was cool. Not the warmth of Rick, not the heat of her own body. Cool, even in the heavy breath of the desert night.

  “Hmm. Alright.” Vix released her hand and stepped back. “Hold your hands out—like this.”

  Rin hesitated, then brought her other hand forward, both palms facing down.

  Vix drew his wand in a smooth, unhurried motion.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you about to do!?” Rick blurted, throwing his arms up like he was about to physically block the spell.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “It’s alright,” Vix replied, calm as ever. “We’re just going to find out what’s going on with her. Hopefully, we can get her back to her family?” His tone was steady, but the faint curve of his lips was both gentle and confident.

  “Revmo!” His voice cracked through the air.

  A blinding green magic circle erupted beneath Rin’s feet, runes spinning with dizzying speed.

  “Wait! What the hell is a Revmo!? Are you sure this won’t hurt her?!” Rick shouted over the roar of magic, his stance shifting to shield himself more than her.

  A flurry of sand spiraled upward as the circle spun faster, but Rin didn’t flinch. Only her hair lifted in the unseen wind before a searing green light burst upward, swallowing her whole. The glow collapsed just as quickly, the runes fading while the sandstorm’s momentum lingered in the air.

  “It’s just amnesia! It’s just AMNESIA!!!” Rick cried, almost in relief—and maybe panic.

  The circle vanished completely. Rin stood there blinking, confused, her hands still held out as if she’d forgotten to move them.

  “Hmm. How troublesome.” Vix rubbed his chin, gaze sharpening. “This is more complicated than amnesia. I can’t pull any memory from her earlier than two weeks ago.” His eyes flicked to Rick. “And she turns eleven exactly two weeks from tomorrow.”

  “Huh?! You figured all that out with THAT chaotic spell?!” Rick exclaimed, eyes wide.

  “As long as the target stays willing,” Vix said with a faint, cool grin, “you can find out even their deepest, darkest secrets!” He educated cheerfully.

  Rick trembled despite wearing a mask of annoyance, but at last, his guard slipped.

  “A-anyway… we need to bring her to Public Safety. We can find her parents and get her out of this damn wasteland!”

  “She doesn’t have parents. Nothing traceable, anyway.”

  “Huh? Wh-what do you mean? She has to have parents! Screw your spell—I’m taking her to Public Safety!”

  “Speaking of,” Vix said, his faint smile never fading, “I should be taking you to Public Safety.”

  He stepped casually to Rin’s side, resting a gloved hand over her head as if she were already under his protection. She let out a sharp gasp, her shoulders stiffening, confusion flickering across her face as the moment unfolded.

  “As for little Rin here, I’ll take her to Kormadyne.”

  “Kormadyne!? Wait—bring me in too? For what!?”

  Vix’s smile held steady, his tone as light as if they were discussing the weather. “Yes. You were here, in the desert, with the intent to kidnap and traffic. That’s a crime that tends to… get people invited to Public Safety.”

  Rick’s throat tightened. “Wait, wait! I… I was—”

  “Forced to?” Vix asked smoothly, tilting his head just enough for the light to catch in his pale eyes. He didn’t blink. Didn’t stop smiling.

  That gaze… Rick recognized it. The same one Vix had fixed on Rin only moments ago. A look that would comfort a child but strip away any pretense and leave you feeling small if you weren’t.

  He shifted on his feet, torn between bolting and saying anything that might buy him mercy.

  “I mean… like…” Rick’s voice cracked. He sighed and let his shoulders sag. “Yeah… I was looking to make money. I… I know a spell, and they recruited me, promising a lot for—okay, look, to be fair, I didn’t know they were targeting children with this!”

  Vix chuckled softly, a genuine warm laugh that unnerved Rick to his core. “Mm. You’re absolutely right. It is commendable that you were willing to sacrifice your life for a stranger little girl. Very admirable.”

  Rick swallowed hard. The words were flattering, but the tone… the tone promised that Vix already knew every move he would make next—and that none of them would end in freedom.

  “Allow me to pry.”

  “Please… do not use Revmo on me.”

  “I don’t intend to,” Vix said with another soft chuckle.

  Rick could no longer hide his nervousness. His arms twitched, knees threatening to buckle as he shifted in the sand.

  “Why aren’t you in Kormadyne?”

  “Me? Attending KAMA? No way. That place forges elites—built by elites, attended by elites. I’m… I’m just a nobody.” His shaking finally eased, but the confession felt heavy. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men Vix had bound. They were still groaning, still struggling in vain.

  “You’re right, sir… I do belong in the hands of Public Safety. I’m… a criminal.”

  “How old are you?” Vix asked, idly patting Rin’s head.

  She reached up and grabbed his hand, as if to stop him—but didn’t let go. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, only that the gentle rhythm of each pat made her softly squeak in surprise.

  “I’m… fourteen…”

  “And you have a spell fit for kidnapping?”

  Rick stayed silent. It felt like he was already on trial, shame pulling his gaze down to the sand as his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Slumrah,” Vix said, breaking the silence, “is a pretty advanced spell for a fourteen-year-old.”

  Rick’s eyes widened.

  How did he know the exact spell?

  “But it’s messy,” Vix continued, “requires setup, precision… and plenty of mana. You must have a remarkable mana pool yourself.”

  “How—how did you know?!”

  Vix bent at the waist, lowering his voice to a near whisper. His hand left Rin’s head as his pale eyes locked onto Rick’s, as if searching for something inside them. His smile never wavered.

  “What say I turn a blind eye to your crimes tonight… and you enroll in Kormadyne Academy of Magical-America? Join Rin as a student. Graduate. Put that talent to use for the world. Hm?”

  Rick froze. Hope was dangling in front of him. It didn’t sound like a trick… but could it be?

  “I-I’d love to, sir! But… I don’t have the money… or the recommendations to even enroll!”

  “Right,” Vix said casually. “Seven recommendations from well-known attendees, alumni, or sorcerers of equal merit are required to enroll. Well—one down. Six to go.”

  Rick blinked. “Right! One down, sev—no, six—wait, no… yeah—SEVEN! Where did I get one alrea—”

  His eyes shot wide as the realization hit.

  Vix simply spread his arms with a smile, nodding as Rick caught up.

  “Right! I—I won’t let you down, sir! I’ll never waste this opportunity!” Rick practically cheered.

  Vix chuckled again. “Of course, Mister…?”

  “It’s Rymons! Rick Rymons, sir—Commander! I’ll aim to become a powerful Enforcer just like you!”

  “Mister Rymons,” Vix said with an approving nod, “I look forward to our first mission together.”

  Rick could hardly believe it. Not only had he received the legendary commander’s personal recommendation to attend the most elite sorcery school in the world, but he had been acknowledged by him—by name.

  His chest swelled. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, and suddenly he was running. Not toward anywhere in particular—just running, grinning like a fool, with Vix and Rin watching in mild confusion.

  It didn’t matter. The joy in his chest was too big to contain. But then, a thought slipped in—one that made him skid to a halt.

  Wait. How did the commander even find them? And what was he doing out here in the middle of the Sonoran Desert?

  He turned right back around and jogged to them.

  “Sir! Commander, sir! I have a question—if, uh, you don’t mind!”

  “Yes?”

  “How did you find us? I mean… what were you doing nearby? Is there… terrorist activity in the U.S.?”

  “Terrorist activity?!” Vix bent over, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

  “Not at all! And I’d love to share—but you’ll have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret. Something tells me you’ve got ears worth hearing this.”

  “Y-yes, sir! I’d never tell a soul!”

  Vix straightened, collecting himself as he cleared his throat. His tone softened—but carried a weight now. The air felt heavier. Rick knew whatever came next was serious.

  “I was advised… a mana link took place a mere hour ago.”

  Rick’s eyes widened. “What?! A mana link?!”

  “Mana… link…?” Rin repeated, her eyes darting between the two men.

  “You already know the statutes of a mana link, don’t you, Mister Rymons?” Vix asked, that faint smile never leaving his face.

  “Y-yes… it’s an inseverable connection between two souls where—if the knowing parties were to ever reveal its existence—it could sever the theorized benefits such as… shared mana pools, or, or even the transfer of spell knowledge! Or—” Rick’s words stumbled over themselves, “—or even greater boosts like mana amplifications or surges!”

  “Easy, Mister Rymons.” Vix gave a soft chuckle. “But you’re basically on the point.”

  Rin, utterly lost, turned her gaze back to the stars.

  “But sir,” Rick lowered his voice to a whisper, “how can you be so sure? The parties involved can’t even confirm it themselves.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. But there’s a short list of souls within the area where it could’ve taken place. Yaxon himself confirmed it.”

  Rick froze. “Y–Yaxon!? You mean… the Yaxon!?”

  “Yes,” Vix replied, his tone calm but carrying weight. “He witnessed it and sent me to secure every soul nearby. In other words… you and little Rin.”

  Rick’s breath caught. In one night, he had spoken to Commander Vix Nepton and been in the general vicinity of Yaxon Staffire—the strongest sorcerer alive.

  “H-he’s… n-nearby…?”

  “Yes. Only a few miles due north. Of course, neither can Yaxon confirm the parties in the link, but it’s crucial those souls don’t meet an ill fate.”

  “I… I see…”

  “Until the depths of this mana link are confirmed, Yaxon himself will guarantee their protection. So focus on your recommendations, Mister Rymons. Leave the rest to us. And as for Rin…” Vix turned to her. She was standing with one hand raised toward the sky, entirely zoned out.

  “She’s an enigma,” he murmured. “But she’ll be under his protection too. Until then, she gets to be a normal girl. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

  “Y-yes, sir! I’ll get my recommendations! And… Rin definitely deserves to be a normal girl!”

  “Wonderful.”

  Vix drew his wand and, with a flick, a green portal tore open beneath the bound men. They screamed as they vanished, landing squarely in the Public Safety headquarters.

  “Please hold them in the cells until I send the report,” Vix ordered.

  The agents inside exchanged a stunned glance but quickly saluted. “Yes, Commander!”

  The portal sealed shut.

  “Now then, Rin,” Vix said, walking over to her, “can you tell me what those glowing dots in the sky are?”

  She didn’t look down at him—her gaze stayed fixed upward, eyes wide. “They’re pretty…” she said softly, in awe, as if her world was out there rather than where she stood.

  #

  “What the hell, Vix!”

  A man slammed his fist into the Director’s Pinnacle Table, the impact rattling the sleek holo-panels embedded in its surface.

  “You really want us to make an exception and just… let the kid in?!”

  Vix didn’t flinch. His voice stayed cool, measured.

  “Sir, she’s been unwillingly dragged into affairs that would break more than a few White Glove Enforcers—squads of them, even.”

  “So there’s a supposed mana link,” another man said, his massive frame leaning forward as he slammed a thick file onto the table. The holograms above flickered from the force.

  “It isn’t supposed,” Vix replied evenly. “It’s fact. Yaxon confirmed—”

  “That brat can ‘confirm’ whatever he wants!” a third man snapped, cutting him off. “Just because he’s got that ridiculous Merlin Vision doesn’t mean he gets to play god!”

  Vix’s smile thinned but never disappeared.

  “Directors, this isn’t an attempt to undermine your authority. All I’m asking is that you let her attend the academy. Give her the foundation to build something useful while she’s still young—until her true purpose becomes clear.”

  One of the directors snorted.

  “Right. Like every other ‘special case’ student who walks in here with a sob story and ends up costing the academy more trouble than they’re worth?”

  “Rin is special.”

  “Enough! Your argument is far too flawed to justify carrying out his bidding,” one of them snapped.

  That was the moment Vix’s smile finally disappeared.

  “His bidding?” His voice dipped lower, quieter—but sharp. “You imply he’d do a better job than me?”

  The three directors went still. One’s eye twitched. Another began breathing slowly, deliberately, as if even the sound might provoke him further.

  “I know the truth,” Vix said.

  “The truth, Commander Nepton,” the center director replied, “is that you failed your mission.”

  “The truth, Director,” Vix countered, leaning forward until his forearms pressed into the table, veins standing out along the backs of his hands, “is that none of you in this room can stand up to him. You’re afraid.”

  A heavy silence followed.

  “Too damn afraid of what you can’t control. There was never a mission failed—only flawed determinations, leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of those who couldn’t stomach them in the first place.”

  “That’s enough! No more of this disrespectful nonsense out of you!” the large director barked.

  Vix exhaled slowly, as if pulling himself back from the brink.

  “This is unbecoming of you, Commander,” the man continued. “You’re… even beginning to sound like him.”

  Before Vix could answer, another voice cut through from behind them.

  “What good does this mana link even do for us, anyway?”

  A fourth director stepped forward—slender, older, immaculately dressed, a cane twirling loosely in one hand that he didn’t bother using.

  “Mana links are a sacred symbol of love,” he said evenly. “At least, from where I come from. If such a bond has been unwillingly bestowed upon this child, protecting it is her due diligence.”

  “But she isn’t even aware of what it is!” Vix shot back.

  “Relax, Commander.” The man’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “I actually come bearing favorable tidings for you. Though I must admit…” his eyes ran over Vix with a faint smirk, “…seeing you dashing yet spent, frayed at the edges, doesn’t quite suit your rank.”

  Vix glanced down at himself and sighed. He was no longer in his sleek black field shirt—just a white T-shirt and a black vest, paired with the regulation black pants and gloves.

  “I’ll allow myself to continue.”

  “Director Benneth. Perhaps you shouldn’t—”

  “Director Cannus—I don’t care.”

  Cannus, the large director, exhaled through his nose.

  Here we go.

  “Up until recently,” Benneth began, his voice calm and measured, “mana links were nothing but theory—a rare and beautiful rumor. The possibility of mana amplification. Shared mana pools. The ability to grant and cast spells that could, in theory, defy the gods themselves… all through the bond of two humans. Poetic. Disruptive. Illogical. The kind of sentiment crafted by beings desperate to believe in something.”

  Vix crossed his arms, his head dipping slightly, eyes locked on Benneth like a predator deciding when to strike. “What are you trying to say, Director?”

  “With Master Staffire’s gift—”

  “Captain,” Vix cut in, the correction sharp.

  Wait. Isn’t Vix a commander? That trumps Staffire’s ranking of Captain… he’s such a suck-up, Cannus thought.

  “Apologies. With Captain Staffire’s gift, we now have the means to confirm it—both the truth and the extent of its power.”

  “Need I remind you,” Vix said coolly, “that a mana link can’t be disclosed by the knowing parties, or it severs.”

  “Ah! The bond between two unknowing sorcerers… now unfit to know, yet risking the knowing of others without knowing it in the first place. I think at minimum they should’ve known, no?” Benneth’s smile widened. “What a delightfully convoluted tale.”

  Vix scoffed under his breath.

  “Wait a damn minute!” Cannus roared, leaning forward in his chair. “Vix! What are you not telling us?!”

  Vix said nothing.

  “Vix! I order you to disclose the relevant information at once!”

  Vix exhaled slowly, then gave a faint shrug.

  “Yeah… you got me, Director.”

  His eyes cut briefly toward Benneth—sharp enough to slice—but Benneth only laughed under his breath, strolling forward with his cane in both hands as if the tension didn’t touch him.

  “He understands some conditions of mana linking…”

  “That bastard and his overpowered—”

  “Enough, Martin. Let the Commander speak,” Benneth interrupted smoothly.

  “What he was able to confirm,” Vix continued, “is that the link is real. He cannot disclose who the parties are—only that it’s between those secured in the Sonoran Desert. We know the mana pools are shared. But whether they can trigger amplification or surges? Unclear.”

  Director Benneth gave Vix a sly, almost triumphant look. “What about potential growth, Commander? My question still stands—what does this mean for us?

  ”Vix crossed his arms tighter, his voice flat.

  “It means… nothing.”

  The three directors stared at him. Then at each other. The realization sank in—slow, sharp, and ugly.

  “You…” one began, his voice tightening, “…you spun us like bastard silk. You took advantage of the uncertainty surrounding mana links to pressure us—no—to scare us into thinking that girl had strategic value.”

  Another leaned in, venom in his tone. “You’re no different from the monsters you claim to fight. She was your pawn all along, to carry out Staffire’s will. I misjudged you, Commander. You are fit to follow his orders.”

  Vix didn’t flinch, but the weight in his silence gave him away.

  “So there we have it,” Director Benneth said coldly. “Mana links—fairy tales dressed as fact. The only truth is a shared mana pool. Nothing more.”

  “Get out of my sight, Commander,” Cannus growled. “Your demerits will be on record within the month.”

  Vix felt the sting—not for the consequences, but because he’d failed twice over in that room today.

  “…I’ll take my leave,” he said evenly. He turned toward the massive enchanted bubinga door, pivoted sharply in an about-face, and bowed low.

  “However…”

  Benneth’s voice stopped him mid-bow.

  Vix’s eyes widened. What is this crazy old fool planning?

  “It remains,” Benneth said lightly, “that this girl—this child—shares a mana pool with either Commander Nepton… or Captain Staffire himself.”

  The three directors froze, then leaned forward.

  “That’s… that’s outrageous! A child sharing a pool with one of the two strongest sorcerers alive?! Surely that’s—”

  “Staffire has confirmed it. Vix has relayed it. And my doubts are gone,” Benneth said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Mana links are real. And they include a unified mana pool.”

  He began to pace slowly, tapping the cane against the floor in a thoughtful rhythm.

  “Bottomless mana… or a mana well so vast it may as well be bottomless. And in the hands of a girl who’s just turning eleven…”

  He stopped, gaze flicking briefly to Vix, then to the other directors.

  “…Such potential shouldn’t be wasted. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  The way he said it—calm, almost warm—left no one certain if he was championing the girl… or simply placing her on a chessboard only he could see.

  This bothered Vix.

  “Wait! There were others there—two traffickers, and another child. What if her link belongs to them?”

  Benneth let out a nearly inaudible click of his tongue.

  Vix still caught it.

  From his semi-bowing position, he looked at Benneth, more curious than ever about the man’s angle.

  “I’d say that would be… unfortunate,” Benneth replied, nodding as though weighing their doubts. “But if there’s even the slightest chance she’s bound by her very soul to the man with the fabled Disspell Technique—or to the man with those… potent curses—well, it’s worth the gamble.”

  “I’m not in the mood to work out the odds for your gamble, Director Benneth. Let alone humor it.”

  “I am an addict, after all.”

  “Right. Anyway,” Cannus cut in, hefting a thick pile of documents onto the table, “she will not attend this academy. That is final.” The other two directors nodded in agreement.

  “What’s more—” Martin added with an almost smug finality, “—she doesn’t even have a family name.”

  Vix straightened to his full height, his gaze flicking briefly to Benneth noticing he’s doing the same before facing the three directors again.

  “S-seriously? Your closing argument for denying her attendance is… she doesn’t have a family name?”

  “Rules are rules…” Cannus rumbled.

  Vix’s eye twitched.

  “I have a counter-proposition,” Benneth said, raising his cane with a casual flourish. “Allow the girl to attend for one school year. Just one. We can test our theories and gauge her capabilities.”

  The three directors exchanged skeptical glances. The offer was tempting—but their egos were still in the room.

  “If it’s the last-name issue,” Benneth continued, “we’ll simply arrange for her to adopt a familiar’s belonging.”

  “What? Through one of the students? You’re just going to find her a parent?” Martin scoffed. “And what about the fees? Recommendations?”

  “I think some exceptions could be made…” Benneth said, slowly raising a hand as if casting an unspoken vote.

  “Absolutely not! You must think yourself a comedian! Too much is being demanded over the sake of one girl!” Cannus slammed the table again. “We already have one exception to worry about in this world—and he’s a pain in our asses!”

  “Right,” Vix said coolly, waving a gloved hand as if dismissing them all. “Three directors of Kormadyne Academy pretending to shoulder the fate of the world. Why don’t you leave that to the Grand Majestry… and his New Grand Military.”

  “Commander! Mind your tone!”

  “If you want to pretend you’re soldiers of the people, why not just enlist?”

  Cannus’s face flushed crimson. His fingers twitched toward the wand at his hip, but he knew better than to challenge a man who’d dueled sorcerers of far greater renown.

  “I suppose… we can let her attend for one year. We’ll keep an eye on her. Observe any potential traits to back your theories. Gamble, as you say. But that’s it,” the third, softer-spoken director said at last. “She must earn the proper recommendations and fees to re-enroll next year. And she will need to acquire a family belonging by the end of the school year to remain.”

  “May I interest you to the start of the next school year, Erny?” Benneth asked casually.

  “By the end of her first year, Benneth. Commander.” Erny tipped his head toward them. “That will be all. Dismissed.”

  Benneth and Vix stepped out into the hall together.

  “Well, that was a shit show.”

  “No thanks to you! What the hell were you thinking?!” Vix snapped, his usual composure lost. “What were you even doing in there?”

  “Hey, I got the girl a chance, didn’t I?” Benneth smirked. “Tell Staffire everything went smoothly. Her fate is secured.”

  “Temporarily—she still needs a family belonging! How could I ever do that to her?!”

  “You’re thinking too far ahead. Get her a wand first,” Benneth said with a cautious smile.

  Vix’s irritation faltered.