If hell existed, it probably looked like this:

  A towering marble building with banners fpping in the wind, robed old men with stern faces pacing around, the constant hum of enchantments in the air, and me—dragged by my own father like a shoplifter getting marched through a holy temple of bureaucracy and rules.

  Welcome to the Royal Mage Corps Headquarters.

  Popution: The uptight, the judgmental, and apparently now… Squad 7.

  “Listen carefully, all of you,” Kael Wyrhart, Supreme Court Mage and the man responsible for me being born into this overachieving lunacy, barked as we marched through the polished hallways.

  “This isn’t a school. This is the real world. Here, mistakes get people killed, not suspended.”

  “Great,” Gram whispered to me. “So if we blow something up, we just die. Much simpler system.”

  “Shut. Up.” I hissed.

  The Walk of JudgmentThe moment we stepped in, everyone stared.

  Like, everyone.

  Men and women in gilded robes looked up from rune-etched scrolls and glowing crystal orbs to get a look at the circus animals Kael had brought in.

  “Oh, those must be the dungeon brats,” one enchanter muttered.

  “That’s Kael’s son? The reckless one?” a summoner asked.

  “Honestly expected him to have more… discipline,” another said.

  I waved.

  Gram bowed.

  Rielle stretched like she owned the pce.

  Eli was suspiciously quiet. Too quiet. She was either pnning murder or taking notes on the architecture.

  Dad ignored it all and pushed open two massive silver doors.

  “Squad 7,” he said, voice like thunder, “welcome to your punishment.”

  The Lecture Gauntlet BeginsFor the next eight hours, we were passed around like cursed artifacts between high-ranking mages.

  Lecture after lecture.

  Scroll after scroll.

  PowerPoint crystal after soul-sucking PowerPoint crystal.

  “This is the etiquette of mage protocol when facing inter-empire negotiations.”

  “If your summon appears in public without command, you’re liable for damages.”

  “Always stabilize your mana core before teleportation—lest you explode.”

  “Don’t flirt with fellow court members in the middle of a summoning ritual.”

  “Wait, that st one—” Rielle began.

  “Don’t,” I warned.

  The Threat Heard 'Round the RoomAround hour five, during a “hypothetical case study” on what not to do in a dungeon scenario (surprise: it was us), Kael pulled me aside.

  We stepped into a private room filled with floating mana diagrams and softly glowing wards.

  He didn’t yell.

  Which made it worse.

  “I should have put you in the military, Lucien,” he said calmly.

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “At least there, the beatings are consistent and stupidity gets carved out of you by week two.”

  “Well… I already have Rielle for that.”

  “I’m serious,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You keep pulling stunts like that, I will send you to the Eastern Garrison. No books. No beds. Just grit, swords, and whatever’s left of your common sense.”

  “Dad—”

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now go memorize magical storage w section thirty-two.”

  Parent Meeting: The Real Horror BeginsWhen we finally—finally—got home, I was ready to colpse.

  Until I stepped into the kitchen.

  And saw Rielle’s mother sitting with my mother, sipping tea.

  Never a good sign.

  I quietly backed away.

  Too te.

  “Oh! Lucien!” my mother beamed. “Rielle’s mother came to discuss something very important.”

  Rielle came down the stairs, saw her mother, and froze.

  “Oh no,” she muttered.

  “We were just talking,” my mom said, “about how the two of you clearly influence each other so much.”

  “Negatively,” Rielle’s mom added with a smile.

  “You nearly got each other killed!” my mom excimed.

  “And suspended!”

  “And nearly dismembered by a Lich!”

  “And we thought,” Rielle’s mom said, pcing down her tea, “that maybe we should just marry you two off and hope for the best.”

  Dead silence.

  Rielle blinked.

  “...What.”

  My soul left my body again.

  “Well,” her mom shrugged, “you already spend more time with him than any other boy, and clearly neither of you are going to listen to anyone. Might as well let your husband yell at you instead of your teacher.”

  “MOM!” Rielle shrieked.

  “What? I’m just saying—”

  “You’re an idiot!” Rielle turned bright red, spun on her heel, and ran up the stairs like her life depended on it.

  Door smmed.

  I turned to my mom.

  She looked oddly pleased.

  “...Why are you smiling?”

  She sipped her tea.

  “Nothing. Just thinking how nice it would be to have a fire mage in the family.”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “Who’s taller than you,” she added.

  “MOTHER.”

  The Night After: Squad DebriefsThat evening, we all sat in my room like survivors of a particurly brutal war camp.

  Eli was lying on my bed upside down. Gram was passed out with an alchemy book on his face. Rielle hadn’t come down all evening.

  “Do you think,” Eli said, staring at the ceiling, “they were actually serious about the marriage thing?”

  “No,” I said immediately.

  “Your mom was.”

  “She’s been serious about stranger things.”

  “Would it be that bad?” Eli asked, tilting her head.

  I stared at her.

  “What is this, a conspiracy now?”

  “You and Rielle already bicker like a married couple.”

  “That’s because she hits me with her sword.”

  Gram snorted in his sleep.

  Later That Night: The Room Next DoorI couldn’t sleep.

  So I got up, walked to Rielle’s door, and hesitated.

  Knocked. Once.

  “Go away,” came the muffled reply.

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t pnning a murder-suicide pact with your mother.”

  The door opened.

  Rielle stood there, hair messy, eyes tired, expression unreadable.

  “She’s an idiot,” she said.

  “Weirdly persuasive idiot.”

  “She thinks if we get married, we’ll calm each other down.”

  “...I don’t think she knows either of us.”

  She ughed softly, then stepped back and let me into her room.

  “Just sit,” she said, flopping back on the bed. “Let’s pretend today didn’t happen.”

  “Agreed.”

  We sat in silence for a while. Just breathing. Just being alive.

  After almost dying.After being lectured into oblivion.After dodging magical marriage proposals.

  “I really don’t want to be in the military,” I muttered.

  “Same,” she said.

  “Let’s not die.”

  “Deal.”

  We shook on it.

  Then promptly fell asleep, like two overcooked potatoes in a pile of exhaustion.