The morning after the gathering arrived without ceremony.
No announcement followed. No summons. No reprimand or reassurance. Agragore greeted the candidates as it always had, with quiet halls, shifting light, and lessons that unfolded as though nothing had changed.
That, Genevieve realized, was what unsettled her most.
She woke before the bells, the pale blue of dawn filtering through the tall windows of her room. For a moment, she lay still, listening. The academy breathed around her, not audibly, but in the way stone held warmth from the day before, in the way the air seemed to anticipate movement.
Sylvester stirred at the foot of her bed. "You're awake early."
"I don't think I ever really slept," she murmured.
He hopped closer, peering at her face. "You spoke yesterday. That has consequences."
She sat up slowly, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. "I know."
What she didn't know yet was what shape those consequences would take.
By the time she reached the dining hall, the atmosphere had shifted again. Not dramatically. Not obviously. But enough that she felt it settle against her shoulders like a cloak she hadn't chosen to wear.
Conversations paused when she approached certain tables. A few candidates glanced her way, then looked quickly elsewhere. Others watched openly, curiosity sharp and unhidden.
Devyn was already there, seated near the window, his posture relaxed but attentive. When he saw her, he stood without thinking, pulling out the chair beside him.
"You didn't have to—" she began.
"I wanted to," he replied simply.
She sat, grateful for the quiet solidarity. Across the room, Tomas caught her eye and gave a small nod. It wasn't relief she saw there, exactly, but steadiness. As though something in him had settled.
Liora entered moments later, her presence immediately drawing attention. She scanned the room once before choosing a seat near the center, deliberately not aligning herself with any one group. That, Genevieve noted, was intentional.
"People are watching you," Devyn said under his breath.
"I know."
"How do you feel about that?"
Genevieve considered the question carefully. "Like I stepped into a current I didn't see," she admitted. "But also like it was already there."
The morning session was held in a broad chamber lined with mirrored panels. The reflections were imperfect, subtly altered by enchantments that bent light and shadow.
"Today," the instructor said, "you will work in pairs."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Assignments were not given. Instead, the candidates were instructed to choose.
Genevieve felt the hesitation immediately. Some candidates turned to familiar faces without pause. Others stood frozen, unsure. A few glanced toward her, then away again.
Devyn stepped to her side without comment.
Across the room, Tomas hesitated, then made his way toward Liora. She inclined her head, accepting the pairing without fuss.
Not everyone found a partner easily.
One candidate lingered near the edge of the room, arms folded, expression tight. Another pair stood awkwardly, clearly mismatched but unwilling to separate.
Genevieve watched all of it, feeling the weight of yesterday settle deeper.
"Begin," the instructor said.
The task was deceptively simple. Each pair was to stand before a mirrored panel and observe how their combined presence altered the reflection.
At first, Genevieve saw only herself and Devyn, their images slightly offset. Then the mirror shifted. The space between their reflections blurred, edges softening where they overlapped.
Devyn frowned slightly. "It's responding to proximity."
"And balance," Genevieve added. "Not dominance."
He glanced at her, something like quiet agreement passing between them.
Nearby, a sharp sound broke the stillness. One mirror cracked, a jagged line splintering across its surface. The candidates paired before it recoiled instinctively.
The instructor did not intervene.
When the exercise ended, the room felt heavier. Not with failure, but with realization.
Later, in the corridor outside, a candidate approached Genevieve hesitantly. "You make it look easy."
Genevieve turned, startled. "It isn't."
The girl hesitated, then nodded. "That's not how it feels from the outside."
Devyn shifted subtly closer, not defensive, just present.
"I'm not trying to stand out," Genevieve said. "I'm just trying not to disappear."
The girl studied her for a moment, then exhaled. "I think that's what scares people."
The afternoon brought smaller lessons, quieter tasks. But the undercurrent remained.
By the time evening fell, it had become clear that lines were forming, not between factions, but between approaches. Some candidates leaned into the academy's silent expectations, striving to anticipate what it wanted. Others resisted, clinging to familiarity.
And then there were those caught in between.
Genevieve found herself drawn into more conversations than usual. Questions asked carefully. Observations shared in half-formed thoughts.
Devyn stayed near, never inserting himself unnecessarily, but never retreating either. When she faltered, he grounded her. When others challenged her, he did not speak for her, but he did not let her stand alone.
That night, the courtyard filled again, though this time the gathering was smaller. Less performative. More honest.
"I don't think Agragore is testing strength," Tomas said quietly. "I think it's testing restraint."
"And choice," Liora added. "Who we align with when no one tells us to."
A voice from the edge of the group scoffed. "That sounds noble. But what happens when someone drags the rest of us down?"
Genevieve felt the familiar tightening in her chest. She stepped forward, meeting the speaker's gaze. "Then we decide whether we measure ourselves by comparison or by intention."
Silence followed.
Some faces hardened. Others softened.
The academy did not respond.
Later, alone in her room, Genevieve set the token on the desk. It pulsed faintly, neither warning nor approval.
Sylvester hopped up beside it. "They're not against you," he said.
"I know," she replied. "But they're not with me either."
"That's not something you can control."
She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "No. But I can control whether I let that stop me."
Outside, the academy remained quiet. Not watchful. Not distant.
Waiting.
And for the first time since arriving, Genevieve understood that the greatest test Agragore offered was not of magic or knowledge.
It was of choice.
And the lines being drawn were not etched in stone.
Not yet.