Scene 1
The evaluation wing smelled of metal and chalk. Old magic. Institutional judgment.
Students filled the corridor in staggered lines. No laughter. No bravado. Even the loud ones felt the shift. This evaluation mattered more than the last. Everyone knew why.
Rachel stood with her hands folded behind her back. Posture perfect. Breathing controlled. She hated this place. It remembered too much.
Maria leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "They never rush evaluations unless someone orders it."
Lucian glanced toward the sealed chamber doors. "Someone did."
Tobias rolled his neck once. "Queen timing."
Faculty clerks moved along the line, marking names. Crystal panels along the walls flickered to life, each tied to a student core. Metrics waited. Cold. Impersonal.
Maxwell stood half a step behind the group. Close enough to belong. Far enough to feel separate.
The first name was called.
Tobias stepped forward.
The crystal reacted instantly. Light surged, stabilized, then reshaped.
Growth confirmed.
Reaction latency reduced.
Core output increased.
A small grin crossed Tobias's face. Relief. Earned.
"Next."
Lucian followed.
His crystal shimmered with refinement markers. Clean. Precise. Controlled.
"Figures," Lucian muttered. Confidence without arrogance. He had worked for this.
Maria's turn.
Her crystal pulsed deeper, heavier. Authority resonance strengthened. Stability improved across all metrics.
Faculty scribes nodded. One smiled.
Maria exhaled slowly. She had expected improvement. She still felt it.
Then Rachel stepped forward.
The corridor tightened.
Her crystal hesitated. Then brightened sharply. Not explosive. Efficient.
Efficiency gain confirmed.
Emotional regulation excellent.
Combat adaptability flagged.
A second pause followed. Too long.
Rachel felt the familiar pressure press against her ribs. Old eyes. Old expectations. She kept her expression neutral.
The crystal settled.
Maria smiled without thinking. Tobias nodded once. Lucian watched Rachel with new interest.
Rachel stepped back. Calm restored. Inside, she felt tired.
Then Maxwell's name was called.
He moved forward.
The crystal did not react.
A murmur spread. Soft. Uncomfortable.
The crystal pulsed once. Dim. Numbers appeared.
Then stopped.
No growth.
No change.
Silence took the corridor.
A faculty member frowned. Another adjusted his lens. The panel recalibrated.
Same result.
"No measurable advancement," the clerk said, voice careful.
Maria stepped forward. "Run it again."
The clerk hesitated. Looked toward the chamber doors. Then nodded.
The crystal scanned again.
Flat.
Lucian's posture shifted. Not mocking. Alert. "That's… strange."
Tobias said nothing. He looked at Maxwell directly.
Rachel felt something snap into place. Suppression. Intentional. Targeted.
She turned slightly. And froze.
Queen Jessica stood at the far end of the corridor.
Watching.
The air felt thinner.
No one spoke.
Jessica's gaze moved from the crystal to Maxwell. Slow. Precise.
"Consistency," Jessica said softly, "is not stagnation."
Her eyes lingered on him.
"Continue," she told the faculty.
She turned and left.
The corridor exhaled all at once.
Maria grabbed Maxwell's arm. "This isn't right."
He stepped back before she finished the sentence.
"I know," he said.
His voice stayed even. Too controlled.
Rachel searched his face. No anger. No shame. Just distance forming.
"I need space," Maxwell said.
He turned and walked away.
No one stopped him.
Scene 2
He walked until the academy walls fell behind him.
The city did not care who he was. That helped.
Stone streets. Narrow alleys. Low lamps. Conversations that did not include his name.
His mind replayed the crystal's stillness. Not failure. Not weakness.
Interference.
He felt it now. A presence pressing inward. Not blocking. Measuring.
"You are being held," he said quietly to himself.
The words echoed.
He crossed a bridge. Stopped midway. Leaned against the railing.
Water moved below. Constant. Unconcerned.
For the first time in weeks, doubt crept close.
Not about survival.
About timing.
Everyone else had advanced.
He had been paused.
Then the air shifted.
Cold. Familiar.
A shadow stretched along the stone beside him. Too defined. Too intentional.
"You always walk when cornered," a voice said.
Maxwell closed his eyes.
"I wondered how long it would take," he replied.
When he opened them, the figure stood beside him.
His grandfather. Not whole. Not alive. An imprint. Memory shaped by will.
"Being measured hurts," the old man said. "Especially when you cannot move."
Maxwell stared at the water. "They are suppressing me."
"Yes," his grandfather said. "And watching how you respond."
Maxwell clenched his jaw. "I am tired of being watched."
The old man smiled faintly. "Good. That is when growth begins."
The space between them flickered.
Something else stirred. Not power.
Structure.
And for the first time, Maxwell felt the path ahead opening, not outward, but inward.