Lucian sank into a cold, silent world, the botched Gravitonic stream doing its deadly work. He fumbled and attempted to reform his Focus as the water crushed him. How far had he already fallen? His lungs burned for air even as this watery, icy hell surrounded him.
It was quiet down here. Peaceful, even. And he was so tired. But Lucian knew that if he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he would never wake up again.
A strange sense of déjà vu struck him as if he had lived this before. It was like the first dream during his metaphysical all those months ago. The reminiscence was dashed when he struck the rocky bottom. Lucian made a feeble attempt to push himself up, but he was still so heavy.
He thought of Emma, how he would never see her again. Of his mother, whom he might see in some form of an afterlife. Assuming there was one waiting for him.
He opened his eyes to see a shimmering rope descending from the surface, the only light in the darkness. By its reflected radiance, he could see swarms of fish and teeming eels.
A voice entered his mind.
Reach for it, Lucian.
It sounded like his mother, but that couldn’t be. She was dead. The rope was too far. How could he reach it?
And yet, the rope was there, drawing nearer. What if he touched it? What if he tried to save himself? It wasn’t too late.
Lucian reached, but his hand found nothing but cold water . . . water so cold that it burned. The rope was just an illusion, then. With that realization, Lucian relaxed. There was nothing left to fight with, and nothing left to fight for.
The voice returned, unmistakable and snapping like an authoritative whip.
Stand!
Lucian stood on the rocky bottom. That wasn’t his mother at all. That was . . . Vera?
This isn’t the end for you. Are you going to die here at the bottom of this forsaken sea? The Manifold means greater things for you if you have but the courage to reach. If not, then I was wrong about you . . . so very wrong.
Vera? How are you even . . .?
Reach now! Do it!
Something within him stirred. Lucian formed his Focus. It materialized in the void, firm and sure. A fire burned within him, and warmth—real warmth—spread throughout his limbs. He was streaming Thermal Magic into his very bones, reviving his body, which had gone cold. How had he known to do that?
He couldn’t think about it. His lungs burned for air. Might he transmute the water into breathable air within his lungs? That was too complicated. He needed something simpler, something more direct . . .
The solution came to him in a sudden burst of clarity.
Lucian formed a new gravity disc beneath him. This time, he formed the imprint that had sent him to the bottom; only he did so backward. It was a long shot, but any shot at all was better than nothing.
He reached for his Focus but found it empty. So, he reached even farther for the Manifold itself. It was there, waiting, roaring like an oncoming tsunami, one that promised life and freedom.
There was nothing to do but embrace that gargantuan force and let it carry him wherever it might. Even if it carried him to the fraying.
Ether passed through him in a torrent. He drew the disc on the rocks beneath him and streamed as much Gravitonic Magic as he could. As soon as the stream was complete, Lucian released it.
The disc rose, carrying him with it. Frigid water rushed past his face, and Lucian clung to the disc, holding it for everything he was worth. Faster and faster, he surged upward through the water, the pressure lessening. The disc was gone, lost somewhere on the way, but Lucian’s momentum was too great. He was still rising and had somehow broken the Gravitonic hold that had dragged him down.
Just as he was about to draw a deep lungful of water, he broke the dark surface, hacking and coughing as he arced through the air. He drew a deep, sputtering breath before crashing below the surface. He clawed upward until he was swimming among floating chunks of ice. He treaded water, trying to find the direction of the shoreline, the rush of magic ebbing.
Half-delirious with cold, he swam.
His Focus was gone, and he could not recall it. He no longer had the strength. His only hope was to get to that bonfire or die in the attempt.
And yet the will to live overpowered all else, even if it was tempting to give up and let the sea take him. It took a minute of swimming before his feet could reach the bottom. At first, he wasn’t sure he could touch it, because his feet were so numb. He shambled out of the water on frozen legs, the wind freezing the water to his skin. Frost framed his face and solidified on his cloak.
Forward. He had to keep moving forward.
He could see the fire in the distance. He opened his mouth to shout, but his voice escaped as a groan that was carried away by the wind.
All this effort to save himself was wasted. The fire was too far, and they would never know to look for him here. By the time daylight revealed his frozen body, it would be too late. He was so tired. So awfully tired . . .
He took a few more pointless steps. At some point, his body would stop working, no matter his determination. He was no longer even shaking. Every ounce of his energy went to his legs, moving toward the fiery light in the distance. There was a good fifty meters to go, and it was too dark for anyone to see him. He coughed and hacked, salty seawater spewing from his lungs. His leaden legs were so heavy that he could hardly lift them. How ironic it would be to die here, just a few steps away from warmth . . .
Lucian stumbled, his vision fading. He had one hope left.
With his last bit of consciousness, he reached for the Manifold again, wresting enough ether to stream an illuminating burst of light.
He could only hope it was bright enough as he collapsed to the ground.
As Lucian faded in and out, he could see the ground moving beneath him. He heard voices, too, talking softly and low. He didn’t even have the energy to let out a groan.
Then, he swam through dark dreams. Most of them were nightmares, one fading into another. In the first, he was on a boat, going on a long journey from which he could never return. A cold, gray island, where he was waiting for . . . something. Something terrible. And then, a vast golden palace set in the foothills of some impossibly high mountain.
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When Lucian opened his eyes, he burned with fever. A fire crackled in the stone hearth about two meters away. When his eyes focused, he found himself in a small room. It held several beds, all of which were empty. The masonry told him he was in the Academy, though he didn’t know where. He became aware of a gray-robed Talent seated next to him on a stool, reading a book. From her wide, pale face and slate-blue eyes, coupled with her gray sash, he knew it was Talent Gail.
Lucian coughed, and the Talent set down her book while clicking her tongue. “Some of us were wondering if you would ever wake up.”
Lucian was too tired to argue. For his part, he couldn’t believe he was still alive.
He closed his eyes, not having the strength to even remain conscious.
When he woke later, there was a familiar voice. Despite the sheer difficulty, his eyelids fluttered open and Emma’s face materialized in front of him. His eyes found hers.
“Emma?”
She gave a playful smile. “Have a nice swim?”
She would joke with him now after he’d almost died. “It was . . . cold.”
“Well, that much is obvious. Here, drink this.”
She held a clay cup to his mouth. When the cool water touched Lucian’s lips, he realized just how thirsty he was. He drank greedily. His throat felt like sandpaper.
When she took the cup away, Lucian motioned for more.
“Hold your horses,” she said. A moment later, she returned with a full cup. Once he had finished, Emma looked down at him.
“What were you thinking, Lucian? Or were you thinking at all? You’re lucky to be alive!”
“Something went wrong with the stream. I don’t know anything beyond that.”
“They say you made a gravity amplification stream,” Emma said. “It doubled your weight when you stood over the disc. All you had to do was jump off and it would have been fine, but they say you fought to reverse it instead.”
Jump off? Had it been as simple as that?
“I was in over my head,” he said. “Where am I, exactly?”
“The infirmary.”
“Well, I’m alive.” Lucian didn’t feel the sheer gratitude that should have accompanied those words. “I guess my light worked.”
“What light?”
Lucian had trouble remembering. “When I got to the beach, I streamed some light. I guess it got people’s attention.”
“Oh. I suppose it did.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s morning now. I thought I’d come by to check on you before going to my Trial.”
Morning. If only he could summon the strength . . .
Emma placed a hand on his chest. Even with that feeble weight, it might as well have been a gravity amplification stream.
“You’re not going anywhere, Lucian. Besides, they wanted me to take your spot in the Trial this morning. I guess in hopes that you might be better for the afternoon.”
He couldn’t so much as move, not with her pressing down on him like that.
“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”
“Truth is, neither of us had much of a chance. I bombed the Gravitonics Trial.”
“What happened?”
She sighed. “I got the first few discs fine. It was the ones after that I couldn’t hold.” She smiled. “At least I only dealt with water up to my waist.”
“Count yourself lucky.”
Emma stood, smoothing her robes as she did. “I should get going. My Trial will be starting soon.”
“Good luck,” he said. “At least it’s not over for you.”
“We’ll see about that. Don’t push yourself too hard. If you haven’t learned your lesson by now, then I don’t know what to say. Just don’t be stupid, okay? Is that too much to ask?”
It was harsh advice, but she said it kindly enough that it didn’t matter. “I’ll try.”
She walked out of the room, leaving nothing behind but her empty presence.
Lucian slept a couple more hours, and when he awoke again, all he could think about was how all the other Novices were busy at their Trials. And here he was, out of the running because of his stupid mistake.
To his surprise, he felt much better, though his fever still ran high. All was quiet in the sick room, save for the crackle of flames in the hearth. His condition, he supposed, was stable enough for no one to watch over him anymore.
He didn’t know where the Radiance Trial was taking place, and even if he did, what good would it do? He was in no state to stream. He realized his nausea could be from drawing too much ether as much as from his icy plunge. Every time he closed his eyes, his head spun something fierce.
“Feeling any better?”
Lucian startled at the voice, opening his eyes to see Psion Gaius standing in the doorway. What was he doing here?
Lucian did his best to recover. “A little, I suppose.”
“Do you have the strength for a walk?”
Lucian wasn’t sure of that, but he didn’t want to refuse Gaius. He planted his feet on the stone floor, finding his socks and boots waiting for him. He laced them and stood up. His head swam with vertigo for a moment, but it was only for a moment. When his vision steadied, he walked over to Talent Gaius, who watched him with neutral blue eyes.
Lucian knew he should still be in bed, but he was also curious about what Gaius wanted. Being asked to do something by a Psion was almost as serious as a Transcend.
Once out in the hallway, he followed Gaius to a set of steps leading to the Talents’ level. He worried the climb would be too strenuous, but he held onto the railing and took deep breaths. Gaius waited for him at the top, even giving Lucian a moment to catch his breath.
Gaius led Lucian toward the arcade on the Academy’s northern face. Lucian felt the cool wind, warmed only a little by weak daylight. Once they reached the first columns, the breeze stole whatever warmth the sun rendered. The day was gray and bleak, and visibility was poor. In short, it was another day on Volsung. The cutting wind only served to remind Lucian of his ordeal. But he didn’t want to show weakness by requesting a warmer spot.
“About yesterday,” Psion Gaius said. “I’ve heard everything. Novices killing themselves is more common than you would think. It often saves the Spectrum the trouble of having to expel them.”
Lucian resisted the urge to wince. “I guess everyone knows by now.”
Gaius’s cold blue eyes regarded him. “There’s at least one death a year. Usually more. Magic is dangerous, and we Talents and the Transcends can’t shield you from that danger. The best we can do is train you to make the wisest choice. That’s why we leave it to the Novices to decide whether they are ready for the Trials.”
Lucian had never thought of it that way. All he’d done was compare himself to his competition. He should try to be more like Marcus, knowing his limits, rather than like Damian or Rhea, who’d been here a year longer.
Gaius continued his lecture. “Magic is any action that tampers with reality as it should operate. It is both a gift and a curse far beyond our understanding. We can’t be sure at all times of the true effect of our magic. Even those of us who have been doing this for years can be caught off guard by it. Of course, safety is relative when speaking of the Manifold. Therefore, we warn novices that they can never be too careful. We watch for those whose competitive fire can lead them awry.” Gaius smiled, and that smile was almost as cold as the wind blowing through the columns. “Your ambition has been noted, Lucian. Courage is never a bad thing—except when it gets you killed for no good reason.”
Lucian tried to make his voice as respectful as possible. “Psion Gaius, why are you telling me this?”
He shrugged. “I don’t even know myself. As you know, I’m Psion to Transcend White. My master has taken a keen interest in you. That much is clear. For one reason or another, she expects great things from you.”
As Gaius watched him, Lucian did his best to make his features a mask of humility. In truth, that affirmation terrified him to his core.
“My only advice is . . . don’t ruin it by doing anything stupid. The favor of Transcend White is a rare thing indeed in this place. Let yesterday be a lesson. Take your time. Don’t burn yourself out. And for the stars’ sake, commit yourself to your training. You have the potential to go far, even if none of us can see what Her High Eminence sees. Be warned. Her favor can shift faster than the weather.”
“I don’t feel like I have her favor at all.”
“It’s her favor that got you in here,” Gaius said. “Her favor is the only reason you aren’t on your way to Psyche right now. You would do well to remember that.”
Those words made him go cold. And it didn’t help that he felt like a fraud. As soon as everyone else discovered that, too, they would certainly expel him.
Lucian’s voice held a tone of impatience he didn’t mean to convey. “I’ll be careful, Psion Gaius.”
“Watch your attitude, Novice,” Gaius said, with an edge. “When your superior gives you advice, you should do well to be humble and take it.”
Lucian resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “Yes, Psion Gaius. Forgive me.”
Even if the apology sounded forced, Gaius did not comment. “If you’re feeling up to it, the afternoon Radiance Trial will begin in half an hour in the back courtyard. You can tell Transcend Green you have my permission to take part.”
It was a testament to Psion Gaius’s authority that his word was good enough to override Transcend Green’s, at least in this situation. Lucian almost protested, throwing back the Psion’s own words at him. Hadn’t Gaius said to take things slow? Then again, Lucian did want to take part in the Trial. And if Gaius was encouraging it, it was a tacit admission that Lucian wasn’t out of the running yet.
“Are you sure?”
“Go,” Gaius said. “And remember. Nothing stupid.”
Lucian left the Psion standing by the columns and rushed down to the back courtyard.
