Desmond was pulled out of the dream world. His shoulder was shaken none too gently. He opened his eyes slowly and, raising up in front of him, saw Christina and Amy. Yes, they were both standing.

"Are we there yet?" he asked, and couldn't help yawning as he said that last word.

"Does it sound like we're on the move to you?"Christina answered his question with another question.

Something was indeed on the move; the other students, something which should have answered his question without having to say it at all.

Desmond rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.

"That's true. Silly question. In my defence, a few seconds ago, literally, I was still asleep."

He still was, in fact. Half asleep.

That's odd. He was used to sleeping little and badly, and he hadn't felt what you'd call tired.

Yet he'd been asleep for so long. Several hours.

And it still looked like he might sleep a while longer.

It wasn't like him.

Unlike the silly question he asked as soon as he woke up. Asking silly questions was like him, sleepy or not. That was the way he was.

"Did you have a nice dream?" Amy asked.

Desmond got up from the train seat and woke up, one hand behind his back and one over his mouth as another yawn escaped him.

Desmond looked back at the question. He couldn't come up with a concrete answer. He would let Amy and Christina judge for themselves.

"Well... good question. Yes and no. It was a little weird. I was running across a field. Smiling and arms outstretched. "Free as a child, in other words. Free and swept by a wave. But that wave was not one of happiness. There was no knowing what it was made of, but not of that. Because... "In spite of that, I felt... bad inside. I fell into the water. And then I called your name. I think. Very weird, like I said.""

People kept passing around the three of them on the way out. It seemed like an endless wave of people.

He got the feeling that they would keep passing until this conversation was over.

For some reason, he had that feeling, as stupid as it was concrete and intense.

For some reason?

The reason, of course, was that he was still half asleep. And as such his brain was not working properly. I have to wake up, he thought.

"Yes, it's strange. But who knows what your dream might be hiding. They say dreams are messages from the gods."

Christina gave a wry smile.

"I see you don't agree."

"Well, you're right. Dreams can be many things. Mischief of the gods? I'd believe that, but not messages. At least not most of the time. If everything I dream at night came true, I'd rule the world right now."

Desmond wasn't sure if she was serious about dreaming about taking over the world.

But he smiled to himself because it was funny, one way or another.

"Who knows. There's still time." And he joked back.

Christina laughed.

"Yeah, who knows."

They set off, pushing through the wave of people heading for the gates. So many people so close together, it felt like they were being swept forward, rather than walking forward.

They went out of the gates.

Desmond stood there, looking at the building where the training camp was to be held, which was close to the tracks.

It was a single building.

There weren't several towers, like at the academy.

That was the only thing that caught his attention, since not only the first and second years of the Four Seasons would attend. They would also cater to these students from lesser academies.

It didn't seem that big. But the organisers would know better than him.

Anyway.

That was the only thing that had caught his attention about the building itself, but...

Christina and Amy had kept walking with the crowd. Realising that he'd been left behind, however, standing there like a moron, they turned around and went back to him.

"What are you thinking about now?"

Desmond shook his head as if trying to shake off the dullness. It didn't work. So he decided to be honest.

"What are you thinking about now?"

"Well, I feel like I did that day. As if... Like this is the same day and I'm repeating it." Aware of how weird, no, how stupid it sounded, he almost shut up right there. But he thought he had already said too much and had no choice but to continue. Besides, he wanted to talk about it. Maybe that was his main motivation. "As if not a single second had passed since then, since I got off the train and stared at the towers of the academy."

Yes. That's exactly it.

It was a disturbing feeling.

He wasn't saying it because he was crazy enough to give it credibility. To believe that he could open his eyes and wake up, discovering that none of this that seemed too good for him had happened.

Of course not.

But...

He didn't like it, that was all. Who would like a feeling like that?

"I guess I understand you. Kind of."

"I suppose I can say the same thing. I don't think I've told you, but I have that same feeling often. Like I'm... "He paused, struggling to find the right words. Trapped in time... or dreaming, rather. Not knowing why.

Now that he'd spoken it out loud, as if he'd set it in stone, the feeling became more intense.

More real.

I didn't think it was some kind of message, though. He didn't think it was something he needed to worry about, even now.

"Anyway. Like dreams, this doesn't mean anything either. Moving on."

Speaking of repetition, here he was again...

"You are here to prepare for the coming war, as quickly as possible. For the enemy is knocking at our gates. And at any moment they'll be shot down."

Here he was again. Standing in a crowd, listening to a boring speech when he just wanted to get started for once.

The only difference was that Jacob was a really important man and this guy, the head of the training camp, just thought too much of himself. From the looks of it.

"From now on, you can't afford to waste a single second. Give everything for the kingdom! Every minute of your lives, every drop of sweat and blood! That's why you're soldiers!"

How much time had he spent practicing those embarrassing lines in front of the mirror?

Anyone would think he was giving the final speech to his soldiers before sending them to almost certain death, to a desperate charge against enemy lines.

And not talking to a few students, most of whom had yet to get blood on their hands.

He, among others, his team, the other survivors of the massacre, were an exception, but....

Anyway, that didn't change how ridiculous this sounded. Was this absurdly elaborate speech really necessary? What did it change what it was for?

He had no idea, but informing them that the situation had worsened was not the purpose. After all, the news didn't bother to hide that fact.

And, after the massacre at the academy, it was inevitable.

The odd thing, in fact, was that the conflict was still limited to the occasional skirmish and war had not broken out completely, with no turning back or possibility of settlement.

Desmond had to put up with the little speech for a little longer.

But, fortunately, apart from embarrassing lines he then moved on to really useful, nay, essential information.

That is, how things were going to develop here.

And then it was over.

Together the three of them headed for the exit. On the way, they passed a boy they didn't know at all. At least he didn't. Desmond was only paying attention to his teammates, so he couldn't tell if the boy who was waving at them was from their academy or not.

"Hello," said the boy.

Desmond couldn't help but notice that he was only looking at Christina.

Well, maybe he was thinking about it too much. But he had a feeling he was focusing on her. That they might as well not really be there, in his eyes. Or have become invisible.

"Hello," Christina replied dryly. "What do you want?"

"This is a good opportunity to make friends. To... strengthen the camaraderie between teams from all the academies. Which may not be of much use in the near future. I just want to get to know you... to get to know you better."

So he had hit the nail on the head.

Despite that, like Amy, Desmond stayed on the sidelines and kept quiet. To let Christina handle this however she wanted.

He couldn't help but feel as if he had barged into a moment that should have been private. As ridiculous as that feeling might be. And despite the fact that

And even though the boy from another academy was the one who had done it, in reality.

"Liar. If that's all you wanted, you could have approached anyone. And you wouldn't have come alone."

She was right.

She was right about every word. So he was here because...

"You're here because of me. Because you like the way I look. That's all."

What a straightforward woman, he thought.

Yes, the frightened mouse he'd seen at their first meeting had been nothing more than an illusion.

No, a special circumstance. She had been so frightened because the only thing that defended her own identity, the book, had been taken from her.

Ever since he had seen her in the forest, he had wondered which of these women was the real Christina.

He had wondered why.

What she'd told him a couple of weeks ago had made all the pieces fit together.

"Well, yes. What's wrong with that? You're a very beautiful woman."

And this boy, whatever his name was, was no slouch when it came to straightforwardness either.

Desmond felt even more uncomfortable than he had a moment ago.

He thought about walking away and letting them talk about this in private. But only for a moment. He stayed where he was.

"That, to you, like most people, that's all you care about. What I look like."

The boy smirked as if she wasn't serious about his rejection. As if it was some kind of game.

"Don't be like that. At least give me a chance."

Only he wanted to take that chance into his own hands. Without asking permission or caring.

He extended a hand towards Christina.

Without thinking, instinctively, Desmond intercepted him halfway. Grabbing him by the wrist. He tugged at it, twisting it in the process.

Perhaps he used more force than he should have. Than he had intended.

Maybe he let a little magical energy seep into his arms, strengthening his bones, his muscles.

Because the boy's face twisted in pain so easily.

I don't even know him, he thought for some reason.

"Let go of me. I said let go of me!"

He wouldn't let go.

Desmond didn't have to obey his orders, but other than that, that tadpole's words were like white noise to his ears. The only thing he could hear...

"Desmond. "Christina's soft voice, giving a firm command in a single word.

Even though she hadn't explained herself, Desmond had no doubt what she intended. Of whether she wanted him to break her wrist or let go.

So he let go.

The boy grabbed his sore wrist with his other hand and whined in a childish way, shaking his hand as if he was trying to put out a fire.

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"What the hell is wrong with you? You wanted to break my hand? And why? I didn't do anything. No good or bad."

That was true. Technically. But he had been about to do it.

Hadn't he?

On second thought, the worst thing he could have done would have been to put a hand on Christina's shoulder.

He wouldn't have done something like try to touch her breasts.

Maybe he had gone too far. Responded too hastily and too intensely.....

"Do you think she belongs to you or something?"

Desmond's eyes went wide.

"I..."

No, never, he thought and was about to say. But he didn't get a chance to finish. Since Christina took over.

"Something like that," she said bluntly. Without a second thought. "We are from the Four Seasons Academy. In other words, our teams are not separated between men and women. The three of us live in the same room and sleep there every night."

Wait, wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Where are you going with this? He didn't know. He didn't know, but he was getting an idea, silly as it was. One he didn't like one bit.

"Do you think nothing's ever happened between the three of us? Even if it was just to destress a little."

As naturally as if she were talking about the weather, Christina dropped a bombshell. She didn't even blink.

Desmond didn't believe he'd heard correctly. But judging by the boy's expression, that mixture of surprise and pain as if she'd punched him in the face, and that tinge of yes, disgust, she had.

Next to him, Amy was also in disbelief.

She had turned away from him and was looking at Christina as if she had grown a new head. Red as a tomato. Desmond guessed he looked like that, or worse.

Christina was the only person who had been left untouched after the explosion.

The boy whose name he didn't even know, cowed and embarrassed, lowered his head and walked out of there without a word. In a hurry. Yes, he was getting faster with every second. Until he disappeared from everyone's sight.

They took a while to compose themselves. In absolute silence.

Though the world around them was still quite noisy. Desmond's heart was beating a mile a minute inside his chest.

Desmond opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately.

He felt he had to say something.

But he couldn't think of anything to say.

Amy relieved him.

"Did you really need to say that?"

Yes. That was enough.

"This guy, like most men, seems like the type who is too persistent," she explained " "Who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. So I wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible."

"I understand that, but... "Amy said hesitantly.

He had his doubts too. About whether saying something like that would have been necessary, really. And about whether she might have rushed to make a call just as he had.

Once again, he kept silent.

"You don't need to explain yourself. I understand, too. And I apologize," she said unexpectedly.

Christina's face hadn't even changed.

So he thought that was an answer she had come to after much thought and would have no regrets over.

It was strange to him that she had said something like that in the heat of the moment.

"I just thought about myself. That I wouldn't mind if rumors of that sort were spread about me, just to get rid of a headache like him. I didn't think for a moment about how you guys might take it. Because I'm used to being alone."

She paused for a long moment, not looking directly at either of them.

"I'm sorry "and she added that in a whisper.

Oh, well.

It wasn't quite as he had thought, and anyway there was nothing that could be done about it anymore.

"Well, what's done is done," Amy said, echoing his thoughts. The red had not left her cheeks. And, even while apologizing and after apologizing, Christina hadn't blushed a bit in contrast. "I guess. We'll see what comes of this."

"I don't care either, Christina. "Because Desmond knew he had to say something. Anything, to put her mind at ease.

"Naturally. There's only one kind of man who dislikes the idea of being told he's a womanizer who has threesomes in his spare time. Especially if it's not true."

Desmond took longer than he should have to process that answer.

Desmond couldn't do anything but babble. And on top of that, as if that wasn't enough, he bit his tongue in the process.

Making a complete idiot of himself.

As usual.

Gods, his face burned like an oven, now more than ever. He couldn't get Christina's words out of his head. Nor the associated images. Not today, at least.

Not today and not for a good long while, he was sure.

Even though he didn't want any of that with them.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.

"To be fair, you're right. Very few men would complain about such convenient rumors. Besides, I like to see you joke. Smiling and laughing. You're usually so serious. I mean, to each their own, and I'm not one to throw stones about it. I'm just like you, in fact. But... I like it. It's nice."

He wondered if that would have sounded weird or even offensive. Yeah, he probably wouldn't have taken kindly to being told that.

He hoped his good intentions were evident.

"You do that a lot lately. And it always catches me by surprise, being you," he added, and then he knew that, though not before, he had now screwed up somehow.

Because Christina suddenly stopped smiling. She became strangely serious.

And shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, people change."

Desmond nodded his head.

But it wasn't entirely true.

The truth was that many people, dare he say most, were fundamentally incapable of change.

They only became more like themselves over time. As a sort of fossilization process. But Desmond didn't think that could be called change.

Others, on the other hand, were forced to change by circumstances. Or they could change on their own.

At least that was what he believed.

That was how he divided changes and people.

If this was Christina changing, what kind of change was it? Was she returning to the girl she once was? Or transforming into a different one?

He had no way to answer those questions.

Desmond quickly decided that he didn't like this camp.

Why?

Well, the answer was very simple. Because Desmond had clearly defined priorities. To which this camp didn't fit.

At least...

"The teams will split up and go to conduct their assigned exercises. Come here to this cabin to receive your assignment."

Not whatever they were going to do now.

Individual exercises, huh? He hoped this wasn't all the camp consisted of. Because out there on the battlefield, they would have to fight as a team.

The logical thing would be for them to train as such, wouldn't it?

Or was he the odd one out here?

Was he the one who wasn't seeing what he needed to see and was illogically frustrated?

Do you think she belongs to you or something?

He remembered that boy's hateful words. He had dared to accuse him of something like that even though he had thrown himself at Christina without thinking about anything other than her appearance.

He had dared, even though that boy only cared about Christina because his crotch itched, whereas Desmond cared about her as a person.

He cared about everything about her.

Yeah, that boy didn't deserve her.....

He didn't deserve to even look at her.

I...

What was I even thinking?

He shook his head.

He had lost his train of thought. He tried to regain it, to get somewhere. However, he didn't succeed.

Not only was he not sure where he had meant to go with it, but even the starting point was quite nebulous in his mind all of a sudden. And...

And, really, he'd rather not think about it.

Because those were uncomfortable thoughts.

Introspection had never been his strong point.

Bury it all and move forward. Into the fog. Against whatever shadows were to be found. All for something that maybe didn't exist anymore, that maybe had never existed....

That was Desmond Orosco, wasn't it?

He said there were two kinds of people. Those who became more like themselves over time and those who were truly capable of change.

Desmond was clear which of those two types he fit into.

And he fit right in.

He went to the shelf to receive his assignment, the exercise to perform. And he got another déjà vu.

A fucking obstacle course.

Fortunately it wasn't nearly as dangerous, far from it, as the death trap the Four Seasons had turned the forest around the academy into.

Actually, it was a fairly harmless obstacle course.

And the obstacles were the other students.

Here's how: they had to run a course, not particularly long. The trick was to evade the attacks of the students placed along the course, who would use everything they had to stop them.

And if you got hit, you had to go back to the beginning of the course.

And so on and on and on. Until you got it right.

He assumed it was an exercise designed to simulate a "strategic retreat" on the battlefield. To prepare them for that.

If whoever was in charge of the test "would it be correct to call him an instructor?" had said anything along those lines, he hadn't heard it. Because he hadn't been paying too much attention.

The race was on, with all the elements against them.

Water.

Fire and earth.

The wind even, which could not be seen, only felt, the hardest to dodge. For everyone, but especially for him, perhaps.

He had thrown himself into this race, since it was insignificant, without using his greatest weapon.

The magic of reinforcement.

Desmond had changed too. He was no longer willing to put his body at risk for anything.

Yes, there really was no need to employ magic like that unless his life or his future, which was pretty much the same thing, was in danger.

Even though it was literally the only thing that made him stand out.

If Christina's theory was true, then there was no chance that he would destroy himself with that magic. That in reality his affinity was an absurdly perfect control of his magical energy.

The class to find out his affinity hadn't come to fruition yet, and that was a theory that both Professor Lucy and Christina had put forward.

But he believed they were both wrong.

He had suffered from more than a few broken bones thanks to a failure of that magic. He had come close to death on several occasions.

If that was his affinity, none of that would have happened.

It couldn't have happened.

So he put it aside. He held on until about halfway through the course, but then he was hit by a gust of wind powerful enough to knock his feet off the ground.

Desmond flew a few feet to the right, nearly colliding with one of the people running next to him.

He hit the ground hard and went rolling a few more feet onto the grass.

Desmond stood up, gritting his teeth in frustration. But at least he hadn't been the first to have to go back to the beginning. Although the third wasn't much better really.

By the way, as for those who made it to the end of the course?

Their reward would also be to go back to the beginning. And so on and on and on. For a certain time limit.

He couldn't remember how long. An hour? Half an hour?

In any case, it looked like this afternoon wasn't going to be too productive. And that it was going to be full of what had happened to him for a moment. Dry heaving, rolling in the grass, getting up on shaky legs.

Running and running from nowhere to get nowhere.

What FUN!

Although... maybe it's just that he'd been biased against this camp. And it would take something big to change his mind, so instead he was complaining about everything no matter what the reason.

He supposed that might be it, but....

Desmond arrived back at the starting point. He broke into a run.

At least this was something, he supposed. He would have liked it even less to be in that assembly line, trying to hit everyone who came near....

Wait, he didn't have any long"range attacks. Except for his pistol, which he couldn't use for obvious reasons.

So this was his place. They couldn't put him in another.

Oh well. As he had been saying, not that he wanted to either. It sounded boring.

Boring and extremely exhausting. More so than running back and forth.

He preferred this a thousand times.

On this attempt, he didn't even get halfway through. Desmond didn't even see what had knocked him down. Before he knew it, he was on the ground. The only thing he knew for sure was that not only had he not seen the blow. Not only had he felt no pain.

A blow that hadn't left any kind of trace. That it hadn't been perceived in the slightest by his senses.

It wasn't an affinity related to one of the four elements, it was clear.

It was something more esoteric.

It sounded surprising, too powerful, even.

But it had only caught him completely by surprise since he had not used his greatest weapon.

He would have seen the attack coming for miles if he had strengthened his body as usual.

His failures didn't reflect badly on him. For he wasn't fighting like his usual self.

Desmond gritted his teeth a little harder and retraced his steps even faster than last time, to start this damned obstacle course all over again.

This time he would be more attentive.

This time he made it more than halfway. That was all that concerned him, his own progress, he didn't care how the others were doing. Yes. That was the best thing... for his focus, for his success.

But, still, he was knocked down for the third time.

He tasted the dust and dirt for the third time.

Desmond stood up, hands flat on the ground, pushing upward. His teeth chattered.

He knew this was not something to take seriously. He knew it was of no importance whatsoever. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't help but feel more and more enraged every time he was knocked down.

As if those emotions... weren't his.

He shook his head. And then...

"Look at that one."

"He does nothing but run, I haven't seen him use magic in any class yet."

"And someone like that is in The Four Seasons?"

"Is he even a mage?"

He heard the whispers.

They weren't coming from those running beside him, though not because they didn't think so, no doubt, but because they simply didn't have time or oxygen to waste.

They were coming from the spectators who were using them as target practice.

Desmond gritted his teeth harder.

He knew it didn't matter. And that he shouldn't give credence to the words of those kids. It was nothing more than the same thing he'd heard forever, it should be enough for him to know that it wasn't true, it should be enough for him to know that he was so much more than they could ever be.

That he was special.

That he had wings to fly with.

But, it wasn't enough for him. Not really.

The words were like needles sticking in his skin. He had heard of an ancient culture where there was such a thing as hell, and that's what it consisted of.

A hell of a thousand needles.

So...

So he dismissed his determination with ease and filled his arms and legs with energy. His eyes and his chest, every inch of his body was reinforced.

And Desmond shot off from the starting line.

And this time it was easy, very easy. He saw the attacks coming as if time had slowed down.

They couldn't even graze him.

This happened every time he used his reinforcement magic. The great contrast between his normal senses and his enhanced senses.

It was impossible for him to not notice something like that, that wasn't shocking, at first.

But then it all became natural.

Every breath, every movement.

He ran without stopping.

Again and again, he ran the course.

Again and again, they couldn't even give him a scratch.

Everyone was amazed. Even the instructor couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. A little tired, after all, he had been running for an hour, breathing shallowly, Desmond approached the group behind the line shooting.

"How about that, huh?"

He shouldn't be proud.

He shouldn't be proud of acting in such a childish way.

Yet he was.

Since the alternative was to let a few ignorant brats trample all over his long road and the sacrifices he had made to get here. He wouldn't let anyone like that look down on him.

"Ignorant pieces of shit," Desmond practically spat, expelling what was left of his anger and frustration.

He rejoined the two.

As soon as he saw them, he felt relieved.

This was nothing new.

Whenever he saw them again, even though they usually didn't part for too long, he felt a twinge of relief.

Always, without fail.

That was because...

Do you think they belong to you or something?

Desmond grimaced.

It wasn't that. It wasn't about that... Or was it something like that, and that's why he couldn't avoid the words of that obnoxious boy over and over again?

If they made friends besides him?

Of course he wouldn't say anything bad, wouldn't try to sabotage their relationships or anything like that. But would it sit well with him?

He couldn't know for sure until it happened.

But he thought it wouldn't. He thought it would feel like drinking poison. Or maybe he was just letting his insecurities take over for no reason.

Maybe, when that moment came, he wouldn't do anything. He would just smile.

And accept his fate. Whatever that fate might be.

No one could know for sure.

"There you are. How did it go? "Amy asked. "That smile says a lot. But I'd like to hear the rest."

"Well, I guess you could say I've been able to show what I'm made of. "He paused. "More like rubbing it in certain people's faces."

"That doesn't sound like you," Christina said.

"That's true. But they were looking down their noses at me. Wondering how I'd gotten into The Four Seasons...."

"Wait. Why?"

Now that I thought about it, of course they weren't going to understand just like that. They needed a clear explanation.

He had said it just like that because he was too... excited.

That was the right word, yes, although a bit embarrassing because he hadn't done much.

"I had to run an obstacle course. The obstacles were other students shooting with their magic. And at first I refused to use reinforcement. For not putting myself in unnecessary danger. Which, truth be told, didn't go so well. So... one thing led to another. I didn't endure.”

Christina nodded her head.

"It's still not like you, I guess. "And she thought she was going to scold him for his display of childishness. But she didn't. "But it doesn't matter. Well done. People like that don't deserve anything else. People are so quick to judge others, but they hate looking at themselves in the mirror."

"You're absolutely right," Amy said.

There were people gathering for the next test. Amy touched both of their shoulders and pulled them to her, into a half group hug.

"Now let's show what we're all made of, girls."

"Girls? "Desmond repeated.

Amy, grinning from ear to ear, turned to look at him.

"You're outnumbered. You have no right to complain."

Desmond responded to her smile with a grin of his own. They continued forward.

As they walked, he realized that he hadn't thought of Abigail once since he had woken up.

"We're the best! "Desmond said, without the slightest hint of doubt or embarrassment. For it was a truth that had become apparent.

That they had proven time and time again.

"Of course we are," Amy said.

To be fair, Christina could have beaten any test even without their help. In terms of strength, agility and battle control, there were few affinities that could compete with shadow magic.

And in terms of mages, even fewer.

But still, they made a great team. They had proven it today as well as all the other times when that had been in question.

Before they had really teamed up, during the attack on the academy.

Against the infiltrator and now.

And when needed, in the future. Without fail. He was sure. He had absolute confidence in his teammates.

Unfortunately, it was time to split up again.

The day was far from over.

With everything finished, exhausted, they returned to the building.

Walking... Well, Desmond was more crawling. It had been exhausting. Non-stop, all fucking day. Anyway, it was the point of having boot camp in the first place, but....

But nothing, he thought.

They were told which room was their room, they left, got ready for bed. He felt like falling asleep. Throw himself on the bed and just sleep.

However, he mustered the strength to brush his teeth first.

"What a day," he said to no one in particular as he came out of the bathroom, his business finished.

"Yes," Amy said. She was all red in the face, breathing hard. Like Christina, she had changed into her pajamas while he was in the bathroom. Desmond was already in his pajamas too, of course, taking advantage. "And we've got a whole week of this ahead of us.... I've lost all the desire I had. I don't know if a good night's sleep is going to fix anything."

"You don't say," Christina said, already lying on the bed, arms and legs outstretched, moving like a person trying to make a snow angel. But she stopped at once as if embarrassed to be fooling around.

The lights went out all at once, for no apparent reason.

That wasn't a problem for him, though. With an instant of concentrated power, his sight tore through the darkness.

"How annoying," Christina said, slowly and after a while.

Desmond opened the door to the hallway.

There were no lights outside. There wasn't a single light, and that in itself wasn't strange to say, no, it was night, after all, but....

He reinforced his hearing. His ears pierced the doors of the rooms in the same hallway.

And in all of them he picked up more of the same.

People complaining because the lights had gone out. Wondering what the hell was going on.

The lights wouldn't come back on.

If there was an emergency generator in this place, which there almost certainly was, it couldn't be started either.

"It's a general power outage," Desmond said, turning back to his companions, one hand on the table.

What was going on here?

Nothing?

If this day was like a repeat of the day he arrived at the academy, at the test, then now it was time....

Desmond was shaken by a chill.