Anna's steps faltered. Her chest heaved, the residual surge of power still humming beneath her skin, but the harsh edge in her vision softened. She turned slowly, and there, framed in the archway leading into the courtyard, were two familiar figures.
Elara and Talia. Both panting, flushed from the run, eyes wide with worry, taking in the scene in front of them.
Anna's knees trembled as the last of her anger began to waver, replaced with relief and something softer—gratitude, recognition, the grounding presence of her sisters. Her shoulders slumped, and she whispered, almost breathlessly, "I… I'm so glad you're here."
The words barely left her lips before her legs gave out. The energy that had carried her, fueled her anger and precision, drained away like water from a broken vessel.
She collapsed forward, hitting the stone with a soft thud, her vision dimming as darkness edged in.
Elara and Talia rushed forward without hesitation, arms outstretched, catching her before she could hit the ground completely, their worried voices wrapping around her even as her consciousness slipped away.
The courtyard, charged moments ago with fierce power, now held only the stunned silence of onlookers and the worried murmurs of sisters cradling the princess they thought they might have lost.
A sudden, authoritative voice cut through the shocked murmurs of the courtyard.
"What the hell happened here?!"
Instructor Kael Draven stepped forward, long coat flaring slightly with his movement, eyes blazing with sharp, commanding intensity. His presence alone made the air seem heavier, the training grounds instantly feeling smaller under his scrutiny. Every cadet froze, their earlier astonishment giving way to a tense, anticipatory silence.
His gaze snapped to Tanya and her two friends, landing on them like a hammer. "And you three—don't even try to lie. I saw the sparks of your little game before anyone else. Care to explain why you're harassing a first-year on MY training grounds?"
Tanya opened her mouth, a flash of defiance in her eyes, but Draven's sharp glare silenced her before a word could escape. The two lackeys shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at him.
He took a step closer to Tanya, and the heat of his presence alone seemed to press her back. "Consider this a warning. One more stunt like this, and there won't be any Circle rules to protect you."
Another figure stepped forward from the edge of the courtyard, her uniform slightly rumpled but her stance firm. It was Liora Kestrel, a third-year known for her keen eyes and no-nonsense attitude. She cleared her throat, drawing Draven's attention.
"I saw everything," Liora said, voice steady, carrying across the tense space. "Tanya and her friends cornered Anna, mocked her relentlessly, and provoked her. They didn't just speak—they tried to intimidate her. And whatever Anna did in response… it was purely defensive."
A low murmur ran through the cadets, some nodding, others exchanging uneasy glances. Liora stepped slightly closer, hands clenched at her sides.
Draven's eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting sharply toward Liora. "Then why didn't you step in yourself, Kestrel? Why wait until it escalated to this?"
Liora lifted a hand, holding a small, sleek pocket communicator between her fingers. "I did notify you, sir," she said quickly, voice steady despite the tension. "The moment Tanya and her friends cornered Anna, I sent a priority alert. I assumed you'd—" Draven's jaw tightened, and Liora continued, raising the communicator slightly so its faintly blinking light was visible. "—handle it. I didn't think I needed to throw myself into the fray. I trusted the chain of command, sir."
A pause lingered in the courtyard as Draven studied her, the weight of authority and expectation pressing down. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly.
"Very well," he said, voice low but firm. "You acted responsibly, Kestrel. But next time, don't assume someone else will intervene before the situation gets out of hand. Understood?"
"Understood, sir," Liora replied crisply, lowering the communicator but keeping her stance resolute.
Draven's gaze swept the courtyard, the other students, then Tanya and her companions and then finally his gaze softened slightly as he turned toward Anna, still cradled by her sisters.
Talia's hands tightened around Anna, panic flaring in her voice. "She's burning up! Look at her—she feels like she's on fire!"
Elara's eyes darted between Anna and the faint residual shimmer of energy still pulsing around her. "It's… it has to be a mana overload," she said, her voice tense but controlled. "Whatever surge she just went through—it's too much for her body. We need to get her to the infirmary. Now."
Draven's jaw tightened, a flicker of concern crossing his otherwise stern features.
"Move," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Without hesitation, Draven stepped forward, his long coat flaring behind him as he bent down and scooped Anna into his arms.
"Hold on, princess," he muttered, his voice low but firm, more a promise than reassurance.
He wasted no time. With a gesture and a whispered incantation, his enhancement magic flared around him, light crackling along the edges of his form. In an instant, he surged forward, moving faster than any ordinary sprint could allow, each step precise and controlled as the wards around him flickered into place, enveloping Anna in a protective cocoon of magic.
The courtyard blurred around them, cadets barely able to follow with their eyes as Draven carved a direct path toward the infirmary. Anna's small body rested against his chest, arms tucked protectively by her sides, her head lightly pressed to his shoulder. Every motion he made was calculated to shield her from sudden jolts or lingering residual energy, ensuring that even as he sped along, she remained safe.
In moments, they were already halfway across the campus, the air around them buzzing faintly from the combination of his enhancement and the lingering traces of Anna's surge, the worry in his sharp eyes never leaving her small, trembling form.
Draven didn't slow. The infirmary was on the fourth floor of the main Academy building, and every second counted. The courtyard and grounds blurred beneath them as his enhancement magic carried him forward with precision and power.
The main entrance was slower—too slow. But then he saw it: a window on the fourth floor, already ajar, the faint glow of warded light spilling out. Without hesitation, he adjusted his grip on Anna, ensuring she was secure against his chest.
With a sudden, fluid motion, he leapt. The air whipped past them, the ground falling away as he propelled himself upward with enhanced strength, defying what ordinary bodies could endure. Reaching the window ledge, he twisted mid-air and sailed through the opening, landing safely inside the infirmary with a muted thud that the wards beneath his boots softened.
He immediately crouched, keeping Anna's small form cradled in his arms, scanning for the closest medic or healer. The protective wards still shimmered faintly around them, ensuring that even if residual energy from Anna's surge tried to escape, it wouldn't affect anyone nearby.
"I Need Help!" he barked, his voice carrying over the soft hum of the infirmary, "We need immediate attention—first-year, mana overload!"
The head medic, a tall man with streaks of silver in his hair and eyes sharp with experience, spun around at the sound of Draven's urgent command. His gaze fell on the small figure cradled in Draven's arms, and recognition hit immediately.
"Princess Anna?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of alarm and disbelief. "By the gods…"
Without hesitation, he barked orders. "Mage healer, now! Full emergency protocols! We need containment wards, stabilization potions, and cooling sigils—top priority!"
The infirmary erupted into coordinated chaos as medics and healers leapt into action. Draven carefully lowered Anna onto a reinforced treatment bed, still keeping his hands lightly around her shoulders and waist to steady her trembling form.
The mage healer arrived in an instant. Their hands moved in precise, fluid motions, calling forth restorative energy while the medics prepared cooling elixirs and supportive charms.
"Stay calm, Princess," the head medic said firmly but gently, placing a hand over her forehead to check her temperature. "We've got you. You're in the best hands now."
The healer's hands moved more deliberately, drawing intricate patterns in the air, each sigil glowing faintly as they anchored their healing magic around Anna. Soft, rhythmic chants filled the infirmary, layering over the hum of protective wards and the whispers of medics moving at precise intervals.
But almost immediately, something was wrong. The first restorative spell fizzled, dissolving in midair like mist. The healer glanced at Anna, confusion knitting their brow.
"That's… odd."
A second attempt met the same fate. As soon as the wards and energy began to settle, a faint, almost imperceptible pulse radiated from Anna's body—and the temperature spike returned. Her mana, still unregulated and raw even in unconsciousness, flared like coals under a gust of wind.
The mage healer's eyes widened in alarm. "Every time we try to stabilize her…" they murmured, voice tight with unease. "…her powers grow. Even now—unconscious, she's amplifying the surge."
Draven's jaw tightened. He leaned closer, his hand hovering near Anna, sensing the residual energy pulsing beneath her skin. The wards around her flickered with heat and light, straining under the unpredictable, escalating output.
One of the medics whispered, voice tense, "It's like she's… fighting back the spells on instinct, even unconscious."
The head medic clenched his jaw, gesturing sharply. "Containment circles! Increase the wards' resonance! She's not just unstable—she's amplifying herself. If we can't regulate this, it's going to tear through the infirmary."
The mage healer nodded grimly, chanting faster, weaving layers of suppression wards and calming sigils, but each time they touched her aura, Anna's power pushed back, glowing brighter and humming louder. Even lying still, she was a storm beneath the surface—unconscious, fragile, and terrifyingly alive.
Every attempt to stabilize her only ended in frustration. Spells fizzled mid-air, wards collapsed before they fully anchored, and cooling sigils dissolved into harmless sparks. The medics and mage healer exchanged anxious glances, their movements growing faster, more frantic.
Draven's eyes narrowed as he observed closely, his senses keyed to the faintest fluctuations. At first, it was almost imperceptible—a subtle hesitation in the wards, a fraction of energy that seemed… wrong. He leaned in closer, hand hovering near Anna without touching her.
And then he saw it.
A thin, almost invisible shimmer tracing through her unconscious form, an undercurrent of absorption. Each time a spell attempted to anchor itself, Anna's body seemed to drink in the energy, folding it into herself before it could manifest. It wasn't just resistance—her body was actively intercepting the magic, redirecting it inward, neutralizing every attempt before the medics could even begin.
Draven's jaw tightened. "Interesting," he muttered under his breath, eyes sharp. The mage healer glanced at him, worry etched deep.
"Sir… what is she doing?"
Draven didn't answer immediately. He kept watching, almost fascinated despite the tension, noting the subtle glow that pulsed through Anna's limbs every time a ward collapsed.
Draven's eyes didn't leave Anna as he murmured under his breath, voice low and tense.
"Only one person I know… only one who can stop this before she burns herself out."
He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek, polished communicator. Fingers precise, he activated it and spoke into the device with controlled urgency.
"This is Draven. I need—no, it's an emergency. Can you assist immediately? It's Princess Anna. Mana overload… uncontrollable absorption."
A faint static hiss answered him as he waited, jaw clenched, eyes still scanning Anna's faintly glowing form.
And then, from the shadows just behind him, a presence stepped forward, calm yet commanding. Archon Veynar materialized seemingly out of nowhere, his cloak flowing around him, eyes glinting with recognition. "I always have time for my star student," he said, voice smooth but carrying a weight that made the hairs on the back of Draven's neck rise.
Draven froze for a fraction, a hint of surprise flickering across his face before his professional mask returned. He muttered under his breath, a dry edge to his tone, "Not been in school for decades…"
Then he dropped it, turning fully to face Veynar. "She's unstable—absorbing every spell we throw at her. If we don't contain it now, she could burn out completely. I need you."
Veynar's eyes flicked toward Anna, taking in the faint glow, the residual shimmer of power that clung to her like a second skin. His gaze lingered on Anna for a long moment, cold and calculating yet threaded with faint curiosity. Then, with deliberate motion, he whispered, "Nokh, awaken."
From the shadows above, a spectral shape unfurled, a massive owl with plumage like midnight feathers speckled with silver starlight. Its golden eyes locked on Veynar's, mirroring the intensity and depth of the Archon's own gaze.
Veynar's voice rose into a low chant, syllables twisting with power. The owl's wings shivered in response, feathers bristling, and their eyes linked—Veynar's pupils elongating, gold flecks swirling within them, echoing the owl's gaze.
Through that connection, he looked at—and almost through—Anna. The shimmer of her power pulsed visibly, raw and untamed. He tilted his head, a trace of dark amusement on his face. "My, my… you are a hungry one," he murmured, voice threaded with both warning and fascination.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he drew from the inner folds of his robe a small orb, deep purple and humming faintly, suspended as if it had a pulse of its own. He stepped forward, each movement measured and precise, until he was close enough that the air around Anna quivered with anticipation.
Raising the orb, Veynar extended a hand toward her, and tendrils of his magic lanced outward, wrapping around the residual energy clinging to her body. The purple light spread, swallowing the shimmer, siphoning the erratic mana into the orb.
Anna shivered violently as the power was drawn out, limbs relaxing, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm for the first time since the surge began. The tremors subsided, the glow faded to a soft pulse beneath her skin, and her breathing smoothed.
The owl perched silently on Veynar's shoulder, wings folding neatly, eyes still fixed on Anna. Veynar crouched slightly, examining her with the weight of ages in his gaze.
"There," he said quietly, almost to himself, "contained… for now."