Lucian collected himself outside the Spectrum Chamber, assuming his Focus to steady his nerves. Then, he drew a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Across the tiled floor, all eight stone seats were occupied. Each Transcend was regaled in their shimmering robes, each according to their color, and each of those seats was flanked by two small flames, burning with the Transcend’s color. The inner chamber shone with multicolored brilliance, a rainbow of light dancing along the walls. Each of those faces wore a severe expression, expressions that Lucian couldn’t meet for long.

  From left to right, it began with Transcend Red. Illumined by red light, her sharp and beautiful features reminded him of a bird of prey. Then there was Transcend Orange, an overweight man of Indian descent with dark skin and white hair. Next came Transcend Yellow, a willowy woman with skin of copper and long weaves with streaks of gray. Then came Transcend Green, with whom Lucian was already familiar. He stroked his long, gray beard, his face an inscrutable maze of wrinkles. Next to him, Transcend Blue stared at Lucian, his manner businesslike and brusque. Transcend Violet, like Transcend Red, was relatively young and beautiful for a Transcend—probably in her early to mid-forties. She had pale skin, wide blue eyes, and wavy brown hair. Those eyes seemed to pity him if anything at all. Transcend Gray, the oldest save for Transcend White, stared at Lucian without expression. His sickly form was shriveled, and he seemed to be almost asleep, eyes half-lidded. Last of all, of course, was Transcend White herself, who stared at Lucian the hardest of all.

  The effect of their colorful array was like a rainbow, beautiful and terrible to behold. The colorful fires illuminated each figure, deepening the colors of their robes and lending more power and majesty. The light even hurt Lucian’s eyes, as if he were some lowly creature who couldn’t bear to look at the radiance of gods. He had to lower his head as he approached. If humility was not chosen, then it would be forced.

  Lucian knelt and suffered the power of their collective gaze. He knelt for almost half a minute, a time that seemed to stretch into eternity. His brown robes caught none of the colors of the Spectrum. It absorbed the light, rather than reflecting it.

  “Your Eminences,” he said, his voice barely audible above the crackle of flames. “I’ve come in answer to your summons.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause as he awaited their answer. His heart thundered within, his throat clamped, and his stomach was doing leaps.

  “Rise,” Transcend White said, her voice reedy but powerful. “You need not hide your face from us, Novice Lucian.”

  Despite the pain, he could not refuse the command. To his surprise, the intensity of the glares had lessened.

  “No doubt you know the reason for your summoning,” Transcend White went on. “We sensed a large discharge of ethereal energy tonight. If not for Talent Khairu, we would have never figured out the source on our own.”

  So, it had been her. Small surprise there.

  “Your Eminences . . .”

  “Silence, Novice!” Transcend Red snapped. “You speak only when asked a direct question.” She nodded toward Transcend White.

  If any of the Transcends were fazed by this, they gave no sign, Transcend White least of all.

  “As you may have guessed,” Transcend White continued, “we do not take this lightly. What you did was dangerous. A mage is never to use their powers so thoughtlessly and in such a chaotic burst of emotion. That is the path to the fraying.” Transcend White’s hard stare scanned her fellow Transcends. “We’ve gathered here today due to the seriousness of your case. We could not ignore it a moment longer. We are debating an important question about you, Novice.” She paused, either for effect or because she didn’t relish what she was about to say. “We were discussing whether it’s time for us to dismiss you from the Volsung Academy immediately.”

  Lucian did his best not to quail under the verbal assault. She was right, of course. He had made a stupid, terrible mistake, and for what? Would they see grief as an acceptable reason? He very much doubted it.

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  “Have you anything to say in your defense, Novice?” Transcend Gray asked, his voice weak.

  Lucian shook his head. “What I did was wrong. I wanted to . . . vent, I guess.”

  Transcend Yellow addressed him serenely from her seat. “And by venting, you did something that many of the Talents cannot do. And at such a great range!”

  Her tone held the unmistakable tone of awe. A Transcend, awed by what he’d done? Lucian did not dare look up; he could not let them think he was interpreting that as praise. But he could sense them watching him for some reaction, some sort of explanation. They were trying to figure something out. But what?

  “Tell us where you’ve received training before,” Transcend Blue finally said. “And why you didn’t disclose such training upon your initiation.”

  Lucian looked at Transcend White. Something in her thunderous expression warned him not to breathe a word about her sister.

  “I’ve received no training,” he said. “Unless grief counts as training.”

  “What do you mean, Novice?” Transcend Yellow asked.

  Again, he looked at Transcend White for permission to explain about his mother. At her slight nod, he cleared his throat.

  “I learned today that my mother died in the battle in the Alpha Centauri system. I know it’s no excuse for what I did, but it might offer some explanation for my . . . lapse of judgment.”

  Lucian couldn’t make himself continue. He knew he should be making his case, defending himself. But he didn’t have the heart, even if the consequences of not doing so were perilous.

  “We rarely give second chances,” Transcend White said. “Especially when considering matters of this magnitude. The death of your mother, however, is a relevant detail. Of course, a mage should never stream under duress. But you are a child in this place. And children deserve more leniency than those who know better.” She stared at him sharply. “There is no doubt among any of us that you are a mage of great potential. Only hours ago, I wondered whether we had made a mistake in admitting you. I’m still wondering that now, but for different reasons. Suffice it to say, we haven’t seen a mage of your potential in this academy for many, many years.”

  “Not since . . .” Transcend Blue began.

  Transcend White raised one of her gnarled hands, cutting him off. “No.”

  What had Transcend Blue been about to say? Lucian kept his face lowered to hide his curiosity.

  “Come, now,” Transcend Red said. “Can we not share at least something from that episode? For instructional purposes?”

  Transcend White stared her down. Transcend Red held that gaze for a moment in challenge. But in the end, she broke away, her dark eyes smoldering.

  Transcend White returned her attention to Lucian. “I’ll say this much. Once, long ago, we made the mistake of training a powerful mage, despite clear warning signs. We were all humbled by that experience.”

  Some of the Transcends looked at her, surprised that she had said that much. But Transcend White’s attention remained transfixed on Lucian.

  “You must learn to control yourself, Novice. There will be none of this ever again. The Manifold is not something to be trifled with. It does not exist to please our egos or quell our sorrows. We exist to serve it, to use it conscientiously and only at the direst need. And we must never draw beyond the ether that has naturally accrued in our Focus. Overdrawing is the path to fraying. And your actions tonight are those of a frayed mage. The signs of fraying are not always obvious at first, especially to the one going mad.”

  Lucian kept his head lowered, not daring to speak.

  “Rarely do we all gather on such short notice on account of a Novice,” Transcend White continued. She leaned back in her seat. “Consider this your first and only warning. Learn to stream the right way, with our training, or you can learn to do so in the pits of Psyche. Trust me; that school is much harder than ours.”

  Her face was as solid as stone, but Lucian thought there was something else there. Disappointment, maybe?

  “You may go,” she said. “And consider yourself lucky. Meditate and do penance. Tomorrow, your training begins anew. It’s clear that your powers have developed far beyond what any of us thought.” She clenched her jaw. “We will keep you on for further training, though the rope you walk on is slender indeed. Pray that you don’t fall off.”

  Lucian lowered his head further. “Thank you, Transcend White.”

  “Fool,” Transcend Red said with vitriol. “Learn to be silent! If it were my decision, you would be banished forevermore."

  Lucian bit his tongue.

  “Do you dissent to my ruling, Transcend Red?” Transcend White asked, her tone dangerous.

  Though there was no betrayal of emotion on Transcend Red’s face, her hands clenched her seat. “No. But I must say that time will tell, will it not?” Her dark eyes narrowed at Lucian. “We will see if this proverbial slap on the wrist is enough to temper such wild proclivities.”

  “Mercy may be shown once,” Transcend White said. “But only once.”

  At this, Transcend Red went quiet.

  “If there is nothing more to discuss,” Transcend White said, “you may leave, Lucian. Go with Transcend Red.” Now, Transcend White gave a small smile, barely perceptible. “She will oversee your atonement.”

  Transcend Red’s face became a mask of affront. But that expression only lasted half a second. One would think she was the one being punished.

  Lucian stood, with Transcend Red also rising from her seat. She regarded Lucian for a moment with her intense, hawk-like gaze. If looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over.

  “Come with me, Lucian. We will begin immediately.”

  Lucian had no choice but to follow.