MEMORY FRAGMENT

Imperial Academy, 35 years ago.

Many things were said about becoming sealed off. Statistically, half of the people who went through it killed themselves or wished they had. The results were so extreme that compared to it banishment felt outright pleasant.

“Feeling any worse?” a mage asked.

Twice a day, one of them would visit her cell, making sure she was still alive. The first few weeks they’d even cast a few spells to make her forget what she had given up, but that had since stopped. The only spells now were healing spells, dealing with any injuries she had caused herself.

“Are you feeling any worse?” the mage repeated.

Abella looked up from her cot, giving the man a glance of hatred. She couldn’t tell whether he’d been here to visit her before or anything about him. All that she saw was his dark mage’s robe.

“I’ll take that as a no. Any wounds?”

Not waiting for her answer, the man cast a spell. Green light surrounded Abella, wrapping her in warmth. Moments later, it was gone.

“Try to eat something.” The mage walked away.

Several trays of food lay on the floor, none of them were touched. Abella’s body trait allowed her to last weeks without food and half that without water. That wasn’t the hard part. The most painful element of losing one’s awakened powers was the regret that followed. The day the countess had made the decision was the most difficult in her life. Since then, it had been progressively worse. The battle mage had warned her what might follow, but she had brushed it away, determined she was strong enough to take it. For the first few days, she even felt she had gone over the worst, but that was far from true. Now, twenty-seven days later, she felt worse than ever.

I warned you this would happen, a voice said in her head—her own voice. You should have just walked back home. An ignored prodigy was better than no prodigy at all. Do you think anyone gives a damn about you now? Both your family and the empire have forgotten you.

“Shut up,” Abella whispered.

You’ll spend the rest of your time in this cell, forgotten by the world. Or maybe you think you can walk out of here?

In theory, there was nothing stopping her from doing so. Although locked, the cell bars could easily be bent by someone with a body trait of fifty or more. It was Abella herself that was the one preventing her escape. Right now, she didn’t even have the desire to leave her so-called bed.

The girl placed her hand on the wall. Deep inside, she was still hoping that the awakening rectangle would appear, allowing her to enter its realm. Sadly, it didn’t. Having her awakened powers gone felt as if she had a whole other set of limbs that had been severed. As if her entire body had been replaced by a set of clothes she was forced to wear for the rest of her life. They were good clothes—continuing the metaphor—allowing her to achieve more than any most awakened, possibly even some nobles, but the core remained missing.

A shadow of her former self… That’s what she was, and that’s what they were going to call her.

The days dragged on. New trays of food would be brought, the old ones taken away. The night pot would be replaced with a new one and the cycle would continue.

Mages would check on her condition occasionally, attempting to start a conversation. It was always the new ones that tried. The old ones knew it was futile, so they just did their duties as quickly as possible, leaving her to the swamp she had placed herself in.

Eventually, her thirst and hunger grew to the point that she was forced to drink some water. It had no taste, but even if it had, Abella wouldn’t have noticed.

One day, instead of the usual low-level mage, the battle mage arrived.

“You’re persistent,” he said, as if it were a good thing. “Most would have given up by now.”

There was no response.

“Actually, I lied. All would have given up in one way or another. The higher the level, the higher the pain. When the empire used to seal rebels as punishment, it was more difficult keeping them alive than dealing with the consequences of their rebellion. At least that’s what the books claim.

“Give up on your magic and find out,” Abella hissed, her voice weak.

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“Mages lose their magic more than you’d think. Most of the time it isn’t voluntary. They say it’s worse than getting sealed, but I wouldn’t know either way.” He moved closer to the bars. “What I do know is that you have good chances.”

For the first time since she was here, Abella stirred. Her head felt heavy, but she still lifted it from the pillow, turning around towards the man.

“You still haven’t given up on your awakened powers.”

“Right.” Abella let out a dry laugh. “I’m doing so well.”

“The fact that you’re doing so bad is proof of it. You haven’t ended yourself. All your scrapes are from you trying to regain your powers. But at the same time, you haven’t accepted it. When people lose something, they eventually come to terms with it. Most choose never to speak of It again, as if they’ve gone through a rebirth of sorts. If you had done that, you’d have embraced normality and walked out of this cell to join the ranks of the imperial legion. Instead, you remain.”

Abella remained quiet. She had no idea why she did.

“More notably, you never asked for your powers back,” the mage said.

“There’s no way to unseal an awakened.”

“Oh, but there is. In fact, there are several ways. And even if there weren’t, most sealed would have asked, nonetheless. Magic is the trait of exceptions, so you should have been begging me to find a way to return things to what they were.”

“I know that game,” she hissed. “You’ve just saying that to make me squirm. Showing a glimpse of hope before taking it away.”

“What do you actually want, Abella?”

What did she want? The girl wasn’t sure anymore. She had come here to prove she was better than everyone else. She was so convinced in it that she had forsaken the very thing that had made her a prodigy. Or had she?

There were dozens of awakened in her family. Her brothers, like her, had been raised with all the benefits nobility had to offer. Their awakening had been ensured, as was their rise to level twenty. All of them had received dozens of echo trainers, tutors, and advisers, making sure they developed in the most efficient way possible, and yet out of everyone, Abella was the only one who had passed level forty at the age of twelve. Her brothers and the other children of her family had initially attempted to catch up, but then quickly given up, remaining in the mid-twenties. She too had sensed the gap grow, which was why she had stopped leveling up and focused on achievement hunting instead.

No, it wasn’t her awakening powers that made her a prodigy. Quite the opposite. It was her determination and innate skill that had made her a domain ruler, even if she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Try to eat something,” the battle mage turned around. “And just so you know, you aren’t the greatest prodigy the city has seen in the last few years. You’re still close, though.”

Eight hours later, the visits of the standard mages continued as usual.

“Feeling any worse?” the mage asked the usual question.

This time, though, they received a different answer.

“No,” Abella said. “The worst passed this morning.”

It was the smallest of steps. The girl didn’t feel well by any means, but she knew one thing—she had reached the bottom. From here on things could only get better, and slowly they did. Each week seemed a bite more tolerable than the last. Abella never forgot the loss, but continued despite it, as if fighting the world. An unawakened in name, she pushed on and on a bit every day.

First, she went back to eating, which took some getting used to. Following that, she started exercising in her cell, restoring the muscle mass she had lost. Then, three months after she had entered the cell, she just stood up and walked out. As it turned out, the door wasn’t even locked.

The corridor continued along a series of cells, all of them empty, until it reached a massive wooden door. Just as Abella reached to open it, the door swung to the side, revealing the battle mage, two imperial soldiers, one officer, and two servants holding a uniform and an imperial sword.

“So,” the battle mage began with a semi smile. “How do you feel?”

“Well,” the girl replied. “I take it I can join the legion now?”

“You still need training, but yes. Congratulations lieutenant.”

“Lieutenant?” Abella asked. “I thought all candidates started as trainees.”

“It’ll be a waste of your talents. You’ve already earned your rank. From here on you’ll learn to be a commander.”

The countess could only stare. This sounded too good to be true. She had expected a level of recognition after making it so far; the Imperial Academy had invested too much time and effort for it not to be the case, yet gaining a title off the bat simply wasn’t done.

“What’s the catch?” she asked.

“You’re expected to make up for everything that you missed on your own,” the battle mage replied. “The imperial legion has high standards to maintain. Those that don’t maintain them usually end up dead.”

“That’s all?”

“As I told you before, the empire loves people who show off as long as they have what it takes.”

“No self-respecting awakened would take orders from a sealed.”

“That depends entirely on you. We’re here to make use of your potential. Everything else you must achieve on your own. Is it challenging enough for you?”

The girl nodded. There was no way it could be worse than what she went through.

“Splendid. And one last thing. There are trinkets to make up for your recent shortcomings. Prove that you’re suited for them.”

With that, Abella’s admission to the imperial legions was complete. She was taken directly to the second floor of the officers’ training building. Each person there was given their own room, a lot smaller than what she had in her family estate. Only the basic necessities were present: a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and several shelves filled with books and scrolls of the training materials she was expected to learn on her own. There was no food or water visible, no plates, or washing implements of any kind. Legionaries were expected to eat, shit, and wash outside of their rooms following a precise schedule. Officers had their own dining room and bath, with which their privileges abruptly ended.

Another servant came to the room, bringing a few towels as well as a set of underwear and nightwear. All other clothes, she said, would be provided to the countess in the course of training.

Once she was gone, Abella closed the door, latched it and took one long look at the room. Sunlight was pouring in from the window, preventing the light crystals on the walls from glowing.

“So, this is it,” the girl said.

This small room would be her home until she was assigned to the field. It wasn’t much by any stretch of the imagination, but somehow she felt more pride in having earned it than anything else in her life.

“Lieutenant Usec,” she said out loud. “Legion officer of the empire.”