Alicia stepped aside to let her in.
Evelyn Ross entered the room with steps light yet precise, each stride almost identical in length. She didn't scan the surroundings, going directly to the desk, placing her tablet down, and taking a small device from her coat pocket—a silver cube about five centimeters per side, surface covered in intricate patterns.
"First, I need to record your current magical fluctuation baseline." She pressed a spot on the cube. It unfolded into a more complex structure, like some mechanical flower blooming, a tiny blue light point suspended at its center.
"Please stand in the room's center, remain naturally relaxed, do not actively channel energy, nor deliberately suppress it." Evelyn said, eyes not on Alicia but on the data stream appearing on the cube.
Alicia complied.
The cube's light point began slowly orbiting her, tracing pale blue trails. The trails weren't random but followed some complex algorithm, gradually weaving a three-dimensional grid completely enveloping her.
Evelyn watched readings on her tablet, occasionally zooming on a data point.
The room was quiet, only the device's faint hum.
Three minutes later, the cube retracted the light point, refolding to its original shape. Evelyn picked it up, recorded something on the tablet.
"Baseline fluctuations stable, but intensity approximately 37% below average for same-rank magic users." She looked up, emerald green eyes meeting Alicia's gaze for the first time. "Aftereffects of anti-magic backlash?"
"Likely." Alicia said.
"Duration?"
"Three years and four months, counting from injury."
Evelyn typed rapidly on the tablet. "Any magical usage recorded during that period?"
"Sporadic. Unconscious releases, or simple applications necessary for survival."
"Such as?"
"Ignition, water purification, warding off beasts." Alicia listed. "All extremely basic applications."
Evelyn nodded, no comment. She walked to the room's other side, took a small box from another pocket, opened it to reveal twelve transparent crystal slices, each less than a millimeter thick.
"Elemental affinity test." She took a slice, held it between fingertips. "I'll activate these sensing crystals sequentially; they correspond to the seven basic elements and five derivative elements. You need do nothing, let the crystals naturally react to your latent affinities."
"Understood."
Evelyn activated the first crystal—it glowed soft red, representing fire element. She placed it on Alicia's left palm.
Upon contact, Alicia felt a faint warmth, like holding a small piece of warm glass. Seconds later, the crystal's red color changed, from uniform red to dark red with deeper patterns, like burning charcoal.
"Fire element affinity: medium-high, tend to control over erupt." Evelyn recorded, then removed the crystal, replaced with next.
Second was blue, water element. Cool sensation when placed, color shifting to deep blue, surface seeming to flow like water.
"Water element: medium, flow characteristics evident."
Third yellow, earth element. Feel heavy, color turning earthy yellow, texture like parched soil.
"Earth element: low, stability insufficient."
Testing continued. Wind element (cyan), light element (white), dark element (deep purple), spatial element (silver-gray)... each crystal showed unique reaction patterns after contact. Evelyn recorded swiftly, occasionally pausing to examine a reading closely.
The final crystal was deep green, representing life element—rarest and most difficult to master. When Alicia received it, the crystal didn't immediately glow but seemed dormant. After seconds, it began emitting faint green light, but unstable, flickering, color gradually fading from deep green to pale, almost transparent.
Evelyn stared at that crystal for a full ten seconds.
"Life element affinity: extremely low, near zero." she finally said, tone gaining something for the first time—not surprise, more like confirming a suspicion. "But interestingly, residual traces indicate you once had high affinity. Deprived?"
"I don't know." Alicia answered truthfully.
Evelyn didn't pursue, removed the last crystal back to box. She returned to the desk, quickly operated the tablet, generating a comprehensive chart.
"Overall assessment: elemental affinity distribution abnormal. Fire element dominance clear, but lacks balancing other elements; life element nearly vanished, inconsistent with your age and physical condition; spatial affinity unexpectedly high, understandable given your former Enforcer status—teleportation and barrier spells require spatial talent."
She turned the tablet toward Alicia, screen showing a spiderweb chart, multicolored lines radiating from center.
"Your magical aptitude seems... pruned." Evelyn chose words. "Some parts enhanced, some weakened, some almost excised. Not natural development results, nor ordinary trauma could cause."
Alicia looked at the chart, the lines indeed discordant, like a painting randomly altered.
"Can cause be inferred?"
"More data needed." Evelyn collected tablet and devices. "But preliminary judgment relates to anti-magic backlash and long-term separation from magical environment, possibly also involving... deliberate intervention."
Last four words spoken softly but clearly.
Room quiet again. Outside sunlight brighter, slanting in, casting rectangular patches on floor. Laughter from students in herb garden, distant and muffled.
"You volunteered for the observation team." Alicia broke the silence.
"Yes."
"Why? Interested in former Enforcers?"
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, the gesture making her seem momentarily like a normal student rather than a data-collecting machine.
"Partially." she said. "But more importantly, I need to study recovery patterns after magical ability impairment. Academy library has abundant theoretical literature, but practical cases are rare, especially high-level magic users returning after long absence. You're a valuable sample."
"Sample." Alicia repeated the word, tone devoid of emotion.
"In scientific sense." Evelyn seemed unaware or uncaring of possible discomfort from the term. "Every test, every practice, every magical fluctuation you produce will provide valuable data for magical medicine and rehabilitation. Of course, this benefits you too—more precise assessment means more suitable training plan, increasing your recovery probability."
A perfectly rational explanation, completely plausible. But Alicia sensed something more. Something deeper in Evelyn's eyes, not academic passion, more like... exploration drive. Like a child discovering a complex mechanical device, eager to disassemble and see internal structure.
"You're fifth year." Alicia changed topic. "Graduating soon. Plans after?"
"Apply for Bureau Research Department." Evelyn answered without hesitation. "Or stay at Academy as faculty while pursuing own research. Undecided, but both require outstanding grades and research achievements. Observing your project can be part of my graduation research."
"So I'm your research subject."
"One of." Evelyn said honestly. "I currently have three other concurrent projects: compatibility study of ancient runes and modern magical arrays, construction of efficient mana circulation models, and discussion on ethical boundaries of magical creature domestication."
Alicia almost smiled—not mockingly, but from a sense of absurdity. This girl seemed to view the whole world as a to-do list of projects.
"My turn to ask." Evelyn said. "What's your real purpose for returning?"
Question abrupt, but tone calm, like asking about the weather.
Alicia looked at her: "Whatever the Bureau's assessment concludes, that's my purpose. Recover ability, return to duty."
"That's the official version." Evelyn's green eyes locked onto her. "I need the real answer, for perfecting psychological assessment models. Lying will be detected—I brought an emotional fluctuation monitor, though not activated yet."
She pointed to another small device on the desk, resembling a pocket watch.
Alicia remained silent a few seconds.
"I want to know what happened three years ago." she finally said, half-truth. "My memory has gaps, some fragments lost, some blurred. I want to recover those memories, understand why I 'died' and how I 'lived.'"
This answer found balance between truth and concealment. Indeed one of her purposes, but not all.
Evelyn recorded on tablet: "Memory recovery is common psychological need post-trauma. Academy has specialized counselors and mental magic experts; arrangements can be made."
"Thank you."
"Anything else?"
Alicia shook her head: "Not for now."
Evelyn studied her a few seconds, then nodded, seemingly accepting this answer—or temporarily accepting.
"Today's preliminary data collection complete." she said. "Two PM, Professor Blair will host first formal assessment meeting, location Theory Building Room 304. I'll attend, record the process. Before then, recommend familiarizing with campus, but don't leave permitted areas."
She began packing equipment, movements methodical. Everything returned to proper places, tablet into protective case, small devices into respective pouches.
About to leave, she paused at the door.
"One more thing." she didn't look back. "There are... rumors at the Academy. About the mission three years ago, about missing and deceased students, about some sealed experimental projects. Recommend not proactively inquiring. Curiosity isn't always good here."
Then she left, door closing softly.
Alicia stood in place, digesting the conversation.
Evelyn Ross was more direct, efficient, and inscrutable than expected. She seemed entirely composed of rationality , yet that final warning hinted she knew deeper things about the Academy—those "rumors."
What kind of person warns others not to inquire while clearly knowing much herself?
She walked to the window, watched Evelyn cross herb garden paths. The girl's steps remained precise, ponytail swaying slightly with movement. Several students working in the garden greeted her; she nodded in response but didn't stop.
A perfect genius, top-ranked in all subjects, future researcher or teacher.
Also her observer.
Alicia turned, picked up the map and schedule Daniel provided. Assessment at two PM, still hours left. She decided to follow the advice—familiarize with environment.
Before leaving the room, she checked the temporary ID card. The silver card glinted faintly under corridor lights. She pocketed it, closed the door.
The corridor was long, identical doors on both sides, most closed. Occasionally a door stood open, revealing similar layouts—clearly this entire floor housed special students. But she saw no one else, the whole floor excessively quiet.
Down to first floor, a small reception desk in the lobby, a middle-aged woman sitting behind it reading. Hearing footsteps, she looked up.
"Oh, new special student?" she smiled, tone friendly. "I'm Martha, dorm supervisor. Need any help?"
"Just wanting to familiarize with surroundings." Alicia said. "Green areas on the map are accessible, right?"
"Yes, green indicates public areas." Martha stood, walked to a large wall map. "Cafeteria here, library this building, basic training field over there. Red areas restricted, including senior experimental buildings, classified archives, and some special facilities. Yellow areas require application, like advanced training fields and specialized labs."
She pointed on the map, Alicia mentally noting the layout.
"Special students' classes usually in dedicated classrooms in Main Building's west wing." Martha continued. "But some courses combined with regular students. Schedule determined after assessment."
"Thank you." Alicia said. "Is the cafeteria open now?"
"Breakfast just ended, lunch in about an hour." Martha checked the wall clock. "But you can go sit, or visit the library. Library first floor has a lounge area, provides tea and simple snacks."
Alicia decided on the library.
Exiting the dormitory, morning sunlight warm on stone paths. Magical concentration in the air far higher than in the city; she could feel energy vibrating faintly on her skin, like standing near a waterfall sensing mist.
On the way to the library, she passed the central plaza. The fountain still shifting patterns, currently a rotating nebula shape, water droplets forming tiny light points suspended in air, slowly spinning. Several students sat on benches around the fountain reading or discussing quietly. None paid her particular attention—special student uniforms slightly different from regular ones, but the difference minimal unless examined closely.
The library was a separate building, more classical in style, exterior covered in some magical vine, leaves shimmering silver in sunlight. The door was heavy wood but opened easily—weight-reduction runes carved on hinges.
Interior space larger than it appeared from outside. High ceiling with stained glass depicting important moments in magical history: founding of the first magic tower, ancient mage conventions, establishment of modern magical systems... Sunlight through the glass cast colorful patterns on the floor.
First floor indeed had a lounge area, several sofas and small tables, a long table nearby holding teapots, cups, and a plate of biscuits. Further in were reading areas, long study desks, students quietly reading or writing.
Alicia didn't go to the lounge, instead walking toward the shelves.
Collection categorized systematically: history, theory, practice, elemental magic, runology, alchemy, magical creatures... She walked slowly along shelves, fingers lightly brushing spines. Many titles familiar, read or referenced three years ago. Some new, publication dates within the last two years.
She pulled out a copy of "Advanced Principles of Modern Magical Arrays," flipped a few pages. Content indeed updated, incorporating many new theories and application cases. Page edges had pencil notes in neat handwriting, clearly previous borrowers were diligent.
She returned the book, continued walking.
In a corner of the history section, she stopped.
There stood a row of books on "Records of Recent Magical Events," organized by year. Her gaze fell on the volumes for 2047—the year she "died."
She pulled out the first volume, opened the table of contents.
Many entries: abnormal magical energy fluctuations early year, spring border barrier reinforcement project, summer student competitions, autumn...
Her finger stopped on one entry.
"October-December: Western District Underground Facility Exploration Mission (Codename 'Echo from the Abyss') and Related Aftermath."
Page 247.
She turned to that page.
Content more concise than expected. Only half a page description:
"November 2047, Bureau Seventh District Special Operations Squad executed Western District underground facility exploration mission, objective recovery of pre-war era unknown magical artifact. Incident occurred during mission, partial facility collapse, artifact confirmed active, releasing large-scale anti-magic backlash. Squad members four, three confirmed deceased in accident, one missing. Subsequent rescue teams found artifact self-destructed, site residual strong magical contamination, area sealed to present."
Below, four names:
Leader: Alicia Winter (missing, later confirmed deceased)
Member: Mark Torres (confirmed deceased)
Member: Lena Chen (confirmed deceased)
Member: Jacob Ryan (confirmed deceased)
Each name followed by birth-death years and brief resume.
Alicia stared at her own name. Printed, black, no special marks. Like thousands of other Enforcers lost in missions, just a record, a statistic.
She turned to next page, wanting more details.
But next page began other events: December Academy annual examinations, New Year celebrations, winter magical storm warnings...
She returned the book to shelf, fingers trembling slightly.
Not from grief or anger—those emotions exhausted three years ago. But a stranger feeling: watching her own death recorded so concisely, like reading someone else's story.
"Not finding what you want?"
Voice from behind.
Alicia turned. A male student stood a few steps away, early twenties, dark brown hair, light brown eyes, polite smile on his face. Wore fifth-year uniform, student council badge on chest.
"Just familiarizing with the collection." Alicia said, tone calm.
"History section rarely visited except for thesis writing." the student approached, glanced at the book she'd just replaced. "Recent event records... researching a specific period?"
"Browsing."
The student assessed her briefly, gaze lingering on details of her uniform. "Special student? Welcome to the Academy. I'm Alan Patterson, fifth year, Student Council Vice President."
"Alicia Winter."
"Alicia..." Alan repeated the name, expression thoughtful. "I think I've heard that before. Oh, there was a graduating senior three years ago with that name, became an Enforcer. Same name?"
"Possibly." Alicia said.
Alan smiled, didn't pursue. "Need help finding materials? I know the library well."
"Not needed for now, thanks."
"Then I won't disturb." Alan nodded politely, turned to leave. But after two steps, looked back. "By the way, if interested in recent events, check the periodical section in that corner. Some academic journals publish more detailed analyses, though most require advanced clearance."
He pointed toward a deeper area of the library, then truly left.
Alicia waited until he was gone, then walked to the periodical section.
Indeed many academic magazines there, arranged by discipline. She found shelves for magical history and event analysis, began skimming recent years' issues.
Most content highly specialized: development of magical theory, validation of new spells, reinterpretation of historical events... She quickly scanned tables of contents, seeking articles related to "Echo from the Abyss" or Western District underground facility.
Search yielded nothing for over ten minutes.
As she prepared to give up, her peripheral vision caught a thinner journal, plain dark blue cover, title "Quarterly Journal of Magical Safety and Accident Studies." Publication date Spring 2048—half a year after the accident.
She pulled out this journal, checked contents.
Midway, she found the target:
"Preliminary Analysis of Western District Underground Facility Accident: Characteristics of Anti-Magic Backlash and Protection Recommendations"
Authors: "K. Blair & E. Ross."
Professor Blair and Evelyn Ross.
Alicia's heartbeat quickened. She rapidly flipped to the article.
Content more detailed than the library record, but more technical. The article analyzed anti-magic backlash wavelength, intensity, propagation patterns, discussed possible causes energy leakage from ancient magical artifact or deliberately set safety mechanisms, proposed several protection and improvement measures. Entire piece filled with data and charts, no personal information about casualties, nor deep exploration of mission background.
But several details caught her attention:
First, the article mentioned accident site discovery of "multiple magical imprint residues," not only from the task squad but also "third-party spell traces of unclear origin."
Second, the anti-magic backlash's "directional property" was abnormal—it primarily affected specific magical frequencies, rather than indiscriminately attacking all magical energy.
Third, the article recommended "systematic review and re-evaluation of similar pre-war facilities," noting that "existing archives may be incomplete or misleading."
Alicia carefully read these passages, trying to extract more information. But the language was highly academic, filled with cautious phrasing like "possibly," "seems," "based on limited data speculation."
She returned the journal to its place, mind racing.
Professor Blair and Evelyn had conducted research post-accident, published a paper. That meant they accessed accident data, possibly also site samples. Evelyn likely knew more than she let on.
And the article's mentions of "third-party spell traces" and "directional abnormalities" were completely absent from official reports.
Why?
Did the Bureau consider these details unimportant, or intentionally conceal them?
She left the periodical section, returned to the lounge. Poured a cup of tea—some herbal blend, fragrant—sat in a corner sofa, sipping slowly.
Library quiet, only sounds of page-turning and occasional footsteps. Students immersed in their studies, none noticing this new special student trying to piece together the truth of her own death.
Outside, the Academy's bell tower struck eleven o'clock.
Three hours until afternoon assessment.
Alicia decided to visit the training field. Not to practice, just observe current student levels, understand changes in teaching styles.
Basic training field located behind the library, an open-air area paved with special stone slabs that absorbed magical energy, preventing damage accumulation. Wooden dummies lined the field edges for spell-targeting practice; some fixed targets painted with concentric circles of varying sizes.
Currently few students on the field, about seven or eight, scattered across areas.
Alicia stood at the edge, observing.
A second-year girl practicing fireball spell. Movements standard, incantation clear, but fireball stability insufficient, flight path slightly wavering. A boy practicing wind blades, better control, blades hitting thirty-meter target center precisely.
Overall level... decent, but not exceptional. At least during her student days, average level for same grade was slightly higher.
Then she saw Evelyn.
At the field's furthest corner, Evelyn alone. Not using common elemental magic, but practicing some complex rune combinations. Over a dozen glowing runes suspended in air like fireflies, constantly rearranging, transforming, reconfiguring with her hand gestures.
Alicia recognized those runes: basic characters of ancient high magical language, core frameworks for constructing complex spells. This practice required extreme precision and mental strength, typically attempted only by instructors or senior researchers.
And Evelyn performed with ease.
Her fingers traced fluid arcs in air, each rune responding precisely, forming different arrays: defensive, offensive, binding, teleportation... each array maintained only seconds before dissolving, reforming into the next. No incantation, completely silent casting.
Alicia watched quietly. Evelyn's level far surpassed ordinary students, even many graduates. Her control terrifyingly precise, magical output stable like machinery.
Practice lasted about ten minutes. When finished, Evelyn retracted all runes, they dissipated as light points. She wiped fine sweat from her forehead, turned toward Alicia's direction.
Clearly she'd known someone was watching all along.
Evelyn walked over, expression still calm.
"Observing student training is permitted, but participation requires application." she said. "Want to practice?"
"Not for now." Alicia said. "Just seeing current teaching levels."
"Compared to your time?"
"Fundamentals solid, but innovation lacking." Alicia answered honestly. "Most of what I see is standard textbook content, rarely personalized adjustments or improvements."
"Academy recent years emphasizes standardization and safety." Evelyn said. "Innovation encouraged but under strict control. Several experimental accidents occurred three years ago, regulations tightened afterwards."
"What accidents?"
Evelyn glanced at her. "Involved magical creature hybridization and forbidden rune experiments. Detailed archives classified, but result one student deceased, two severely injured, related faculty dismissed. Since then, all non-standard research requires multi-layer approval."
Alicia noted this information. Three years ago, precisely the time she "died." Coincidence?
"You're skilled with runes." she changed topic. "Ancient language studies an elective?"
"Advanced module within required curriculum." Evelyn said. "But I self-studied the complete high rune system additionally. Professor Blair is my mentor, she specializes in this field."
"You co-authored that accident analysis article."
Evelyn's expression unchanged, but something flickered deep in her eyes. "You checked the journals."
"Curiosity." Alicia quoted her earlier words. "Not always good here, but sometimes irresistible."
They stared at each other several seconds.
"That article based on limited data." Evelyn finally said. "The Bureau only released partial site scan results and energy readings. Many key details classified, including mission background, artifact origin, and... certain anomalous findings."
"Such as third-party spell traces?"
Evelyn didn't deny. "You read carefully."
"If I want to learn more, whom should I approach?"
"No one." Evelyn said bluntly. "Related archives clearance A+, require Bureau highest authority. Even Professor Blair and I only accessed technical analysis portions, not mission background and personnel records."
She paused, seemingly weighing whether to say more.
"But I can tell you one thing." she finally said. "Those third-party spell traces... aren't modern magical systems. They're older, more... primitive. Like pre-war era, or even earlier techniques."
"Ancient magic?"
"Or lost schools." Evelyn said. "Magic evolves, many old techniques discarded or forgotten. But those traces show someone still uses them, and with considerable proficiency."
Alicia digested this information. Ancient magic, lost schools, third-party involvement... her death incident more complex than she'd imagined.
From the training field's distance, bells sounded again, this time signaling lunch.
"Cafeteria open." Evelyn said. "Recommend you eat. Afternoon assessment will drain energy, especially if your magical ability truly is unstable."
"Will you join for lunch?"
"I have other arrangements." Evelyn said. "But see you at the assessment room this afternoon."
She turned and left, steps still precise.
Alicia watched her retreating figure, thinking about the conversation. Evelyn had revealed much, intentionally or not: the accident had questionable aspects, involved ancient magic, other accidents occurred at the Academy three years ago...
All these fragments pointed to one conclusion: the Academy, or forces behind it, concealed more secrets than she knew.
And now she was here, as a student, permitted or arranged to touch the edges of these secrets.
Coincidence, or design?
She headed toward the cafeteria, mind replaying Evelyn's final words:
"Those traces show someone still uses them, and with considerable proficiency."
What kind of person uses lost ancient magic?
Why participate in , or interfere with a Bureau recovery mission?
And what role had she, Alicia Winter, played in it?
No answers to these questions.
At least not yet.