The dust from the Resistance attack had settled by the time morning arrived. It seemed as if I had barely returned to my apartment and fallen asleep when Milo, Sebastien's assistant, was pounding on my apartment door. Eyes still sticky with sleep, I stood in the doorway, blinking uncomprehendingly at the assistant. "Get dressed," Milo ordered. "I'm supposed to take you to your evaluation."

"That's still going on after everything that happened last night?" I examined Milo for any signs of pulling an all-nighter. His complexion was even, and his eyes were alert. There was nothing in his demeanor announcing he had been helping with the death notifications. In fact, I didn't remember seeing him anywhere after his initial escort.

"Yes. The chancellor doesn't want the Resistance's scare tactics to affect ordinary life."

With sleepiness still hindering my movements, I turned to get ready for the evaluation. No one had informed me what to wear, or if it would even entail physical exertion, so I settled on basic black leggings and a long-sleeved blue blouse. I hurried a comb through my hair, and with a second thought, tied it back into a ponytail. Milo was leaning against the wall near the door when I exited the bedroom. Saying nothing about my improved appearance, Milo exited the apartment and walked down the hall, clearly expecting me to follow him.

My stomach softly protested the lack of food. I didn't ask Milo if we could make a detour to the cafeteria. His uptight aura already provided me with the answer. Besides, I had quickly learned at the jail that if I was not awake to accept my meals, one would not be provided, and I would have to wait until the next meal. Milo's body language also forbade me from asking questions about the previous night. Although his strict, introverted demeanor probably didn't earn him many friends, I could see him being able to efficiently complete the tasks required of the chancellor's personal assistant.

As Milo led me to the evaluators, I observed the rest of the castle as we passed through its different parts. It appeared as if it was business as usual. People in professional attire were walking the same halls, some of them with paperwork cradled in their arms. Some gave Milo a nod of acknowledgment as they passed by. The route Milo took guided us away from where the explosions had occurred the previous night. We didn't walk through any of the damaged areas, and I got an impression of just how large the castle was. No one was discussing the attacks in their morning conversations with coworkers. It was like the attacks had never happened.

The evaluator offices were in the castle's basement. The air instantaneously felt cooler the moment Milo and I crossed that threshold and went underground, while the hallways remained consistent with the ones on the higher floors. There were a thousand doors lining the hallways, and at random points, perpendicular hallways intersected the ones we were on.

Milo finally stopped in front of a single door at the end of a dead-end hallway. A woman was waiting for us just outside of the door. She was petite underneath the white lab coat tailored around her form. It was buttoned up high enough to conceal whatever shirt she was wearing, and its hem stretched to her mid-thigh. Her straw-colored hair was chopped around her chin. It was too thin to form a structured bob. The name on her lab coat revealed her name was C. Cleary. There was a "M.S." after her name.

As we approached, her mouth formed into a welcoming smile. She waited until we were only a couple of feet away before she said, "Good morning," and performed the small greeting I had begun to associate with the mages. There was warmth and empathy in her eyes, and a little interest. That little inkling of genuineness induced me to trust her, even though this was our first meeting. I murmured a return greeting. "It’s an honor to meet you, Briara. I'm Cynthia, the evaluator director."

Milo muttered his farewells before pivoting and returning the way we had come, his duties finished. It left Cynthia and me standing in front of the door. Not finding Milo's behavior rude, Cynthia instead opened the door. "Do come in; let's get you situated."

I stepped into a small waiting room. Rows of chairs lined the walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. Directly across from the entrance, there was a rectangular window. Behind it, a receptionist's desk had been arranged. Another door was next to the receptionist's window. The waiting room and receptionist's desk were vacant. "We're usually slow during this time of the year," Cynthia commented as she saw my gaze assess the empty room. "You should have seen it a month ago. It was complete chaos. We had people wait listed."

"Why's that?" I felt compelled to ask.

"The start of a new school year. First-year students need an evaluation before they go so their coursework can be geared towards their affinity. Most parents unfortunately wait until the last minute to get the testing done," Cynthia tsked. She directed me through the other door. Beyond, I saw it led to a wide corridor. The receptionist's desk had the necessities. Two restrooms were behind the desk. On the other side of the corridor, there were a couple more doors. They had been left open to reveal small conference areas. Cynthia guided me into the first one. A file folder was already on the table, along with a decanter of water, two glasses, and mini muffins. "After what happened last night, I figured you hadn't yet had breakfast," Cynthia stated as she pushed a glass of water and the muffins towards me.

I muttered my appreciation and grabbed one muffin.

Cynthia pulled the file directly in front of her. From across the table, I saw my name was printed across a white label sticker that had been stuck to the folder. "How much do you know about magic, Briara?” Cynthia inquired.

"Nothing," I admitted.

Cynthia nodded as if she had expected as much. "The chancellor informed me your mother raised you as a mortal. There's suspicion that she may have restricted your powers, something which your eventual caretaker followed through on as well. I'm not sure how it will affect your test results. There's also the fact that most people know what their affinities are and have been training with them for years when they get to your age."

Even though I had just discovered I was a mage, I felt concern multiply in my gut. "Will there be problems because of it?"

"It's certainly abnormal. Short answer is we don’t know." Cynthia shoved an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're behind, but it sounds like the chancellor is going to get you in private lessons to help you get to where you need to be."

"How long will that take?" I wondered. If I could learn how to control my magic, I would feel better about preventing another massacre from occurring. Sebastien had implied it had occurred in the first place because my magic had been bottled up inside of me for too long, and it had nothing else to do except explode.

"It all depends on what tier you are." At my confused expression, Cynthia explained, "The tiers correspond to how much magic you have access to, or to put it more simply, how deep your 'well' goes. There are five discernible tiers of magic, with tier one being the lowest and five being the highest. Most people nowadays reach up to tier three at the most. Some try to force their wells to go deeper. They end up destroying themselves with their ambition. There have been instances where someone blew themselves into tiny pieces while someone else made themselves go insane," Cynthia sighed. I felt my gut stirring with apprehension. "There's only so much a tier three with an affinity of mica can do. For instance, while tier three mica can grow and maintain a garden using their powers, they lacked the ability of molecular acceleration."

"Affinities? What are they?" I had heard the term at the senators' dinner.

"Elements. Mages bind with one element at birth. Evaluations are used to determine a child's affinity and his tier level. Nowadays, there are only four that the mages have bonded to, depending on their linage. There used to be more affinities. Evolution has all but diluted them from our bloodlines." All the sudden, everything that the senators had said at dinner was making sense. Cynthia opened the file folder. There was a small stack of papers inside of the file. Looking at it upside down, I saw that the top paper had a grid on it. Cynthia rotated this top page and slid it down to me. Gazing at it, I saw the upper left corner contained my name and had a time stamp. The time stamp reflected that the report had been generated earlier this morning. "Are you familiar with Punnett squares, Briara?”

Shifting my gaze downwards, I noted the grid was exactly that: a Punnett square. "Yes," I answered.

"Affinities are passed down along genetics like a person's hair color and freckles are," Cynthia lectured. "We use Punnett squares to narrow the scope of the evaluation and shorten the exam time. It's somewhat comparable to when you go to an optometrist, and they start the exam on your last prescription. The evaluators have records on every mage's affinity, so I was able to pull your mother's data to use for your evaluation. Madeleine's affinity was aerie, and she was charted at a level three. Since we do not know who your father might be, and thus have only half of the story, I've plugged in different affinities for him just to see what your results could be." Cynthia tapped the sheet of paper that was in front of me. "The first page reflects your results if your father's affinity was the same as your mother's: aerie."

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I tracked the data across the grid. If my unknown father had had the same affinity as my mother, I had a ninety-eight percent chance of having the affinity. "It seems simple enough."

Cynthia threw another paper over the first one. "Then we get into other factors that may complicate this. What if your father's affinity was not aerie, and he had mica? That changes this a bit. On the dominancy scale, pyra has a five percent higher rating than aerie. There's still a slight chance you could receive aerie, or the combination of the two can also lead to a mica ability."

"So what you're telling me is that you don't know where to start with my testing due to not knowing what my father's affinity is?" I stated. "Can't you just review the video from the massacre and see if that gives you anything?"

"Unfortunately, no," Cynthia stated. "I have reviewed the video. It wasn’t very helpful, as there are signs of every affinity in it. It’s very unlikely for you to have all four. The more likely culprit is that the magical variation resulted from how long your ability was impaired. The magic trapped inside of you may have mutated due to other environmental factors. We don't have a lot of research in that area, although it's been known to happen more than having affinities for all four. Your testing will be complicated, yes, but we have some theories that will hopefully speed up the process."

Instead of reviewing the next Punnett squares, I asked Cynthia if we could begin the evaluation. The director agreed, gathered the paper, and shut the file folder. She clutched it in her right hand as she directed me out of the room. At the end of the corridor, there was a descending set of stairs. We took them down; I wondered if we were in the middle of the rock that the castle sat on.

The bottom step opened to a large concrete warehouse. Interior windows divided the warehouse in half. Small, enclosed glass offices were lined up across the warehouse floor. Each office contained an instrumental panel. Behind the windows, there were enormous machines, like those used for CT scans and MRIs. Each machine was separated by more rows of windows. The heat from the lights shining down from the high ceilings affected me as soon as I stepped off the bottom step.

Apart from a few people clad in blue robes and standing in front of one of the middle offices, talking, it was completely empty. The employees looked up and stopped their discussion as we approached. Curiosity shone in their eyes as they assessed me. "Briara, this is the team who will help me conduct your evaluation," Cynthia introduced.

We exchanged polite greetings, and afterwards, a young woman with red hair pulled up in a ponytail stepped forward. She seized a thin gown from where it was hanging on a nearby railing and handed it to me. "Will you change into this? There's a changing room right behind us."

"Personal clothing can affect the results,” Cynthia said. "Sometimes, elemental essence may taint the clothing fibers. Even washing doesn't get it out. We must ask you to take off your undergarments as well. I'll let you get settled. I'm going to get the program started." Reluctantly, I accepted the dark green gown and entered the small changing room. As I changed, I wondered how they kept the robes from being affected by the elemental essence. My other thought was related to hoping that I would be concealed well enough when I exited. There were only two strings holding the back together—one around the neck, and the other slightly above my buttocks. I tried to tie them as tightly as I could. I still felt exposed.

The red-headed girl examined me when I exited the changing room. "No jewelry, right? Nothing in your ears or piercings elsewhere?" Although I had had my ears pierced since I was two years old, I had to remove my earrings upon my transition into incarceration. Everything had gone into a property bag as soon as I had stepped foot inside of the facility.

"Nothing," I assured. I glanced at her lab jacket and observed that the name knitted on the left side was Maier.

Maier led me past the office, where I saw Cynthia had already taken a seat at the center console. Her back was turned towards me as her focus was on the hologram before her. Several charts and diagrams were reflective against the glass windows. Cynthia didn't look up as I was led into the room where the machine was. Maier straightened the thin cotton blanket already spread out on the exam bed that was a part of the machine. This part was fully removed from the machine's hollow underside, where I assumed it slid into during the testing. The small screen at the machine's apex had my name scrolling across it, one letter at a time.

"It's so scientific," I murmured.

Maier glanced back at me, her ponytail swinging. "Not what you were expecting?" I shook my head. "The identification of an affinity has come a long way. Can you believe that in the past, there were groups of mages who threatened the child's life just to compel the magic to come out? After that, the first machines we had sent electrical current down the kid's spine to force the magic out; I heard it was quite painful. We're far past those barbaric days," Maier laughed. She patted the bed. "Hop up on here and lie down on your back."

Trying to not expose my backside, I awkwardly scrambled onto the board. There was a miniature pillow made from the same material as my gown and the blanket underneath me. I settled my head onto the pillow. My body was stiff with my anxiety. Some of it may have crossed my face because Maier gave me a side glance as she was pressing buttons on the machine. "Really, you have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is just lie there, as still as you can be, and the machine does all the work. It's actually a pretty light show. Now, you won’t squirm as much as the kids do and force us to give you a tranquilizer shot, right?"

"I shouldn't," I replied, even though Maier was smiling as if she was joking.

Maier pulled a set of small stickers with tabs from her lab jacket pocket. She moved around the bed as she started to place the tabs on specific areas of my body. "I figured. Our subjects are usually seven years old when their parents bring them in. By then, mom and dad are exhausted of home schooling the little rascal and are hoping that there is some sign of magic coursing through their kid's veins so they can ship the kid off to the Academia. Sometimes, we get them in as early as five, believe it or not. It's idiocy. Magical ability is usually dormant in children until at least seven. It's extremely rare for a five-year-old to demonstrate any magical ability." Maier was professional as her hands dug underneath my gown to place a couple of sticker tabs there.

Curious, I asked, "The children stay at home with their parents until their magic manifests itself?"

Maier nodded as she pulled a bundle of cords away from the machine. She went about attaching the cords to the stickers using the clips at end of the cords. There were stickers lining the pathways down my limbs and dividing my chest and head into quadrants. "I know it's strange. I've heard of mortal children getting shipped off to school daily once they turn three or four. Yet, with mages, parents are forced to take care of their children at home. It's important, especially since once the magical ability manifests itself, the kid will be at the Academia nine months out of the year and away from the family."

"How old was the oldest child you've seen in here?"

"We consistently get children who are twelve or so. Those are the saddest ones, because it usually means that their magical ability never manifested, and they are basically mortal. Yet, they have to go to the Academia, too, and get more of a formal mortal education. Twelve years is the deadline for the Academia enrollment, or otherwise you violate the law." Maier requested my index fingers. She clipped a machine onto each. Maier took a step back before fumbling with the scanning machine's buttons.

Biting my lip, I glanced at Cynthia, whose head was bowed down as she focused on the hologram display in front of her. "What’s she going to be doing?"

Maier sent a look over her shoulder. "Evaluator Cleary is proctoring your test. She makes sure you’re okay, and the system is doing what it’s supposed to be doing."

"Through a hologram?" My brows furrowed.

"A hologram? What, no. We call the displays erions. They are connected to our magic."

The bed started to move further into the machine's underbelly. The backwards movement stopped when my heart was directly underneath the middle part of the machine. I heard Maier's retreating footsteps before the sounds of a door locking. After that, it was silent until the machine started to work. Its humming noises were loud. From what all I could see in front of me, the office that Cynthia had claimed seemed to be miles away. I could see the crown of her head hovering above the erion. She had four evaluators hovering over her as she manipulated the erion. I swallowed and stared above me at the machine's underbelly, waiting for the light show that Maier referenced.

It started gradually. First, there were flashes of pink, purple, and blue. Then the colors bonded together, forming a circular mass of energy. From there, it expanded until it surrounded me and separated me from the machine. There were blobs of the pink and purple, while a bright light took over the middle of the circular masses of energy. The mass was constantly in motion, always moving, always transforming. I felt overwhelmed by the beauty of it. This same pattern occurred several times. It started with the simple flashes of light before expanding into one large supernova. The colors changed, however. Greens and oranges were introduced. Sometimes, the purples and blues disappeared, only to return with the next supernova blast. The second mass had the lights in lines throughout it, as opposed to the cotton candy blobs. In the third, the lights were a cluster of millions of dots. I didn't know what any of it meant. I was mesmerized nonetheless.

My thoughts drifted down errant paths. One of the main ones had me imagining what this would have been like if my mother hadn't chosen to flee from Astraera, and instead, had stayed and raised me here. Would my mother have bombarded the evaluators with appointments as soon as I was five, or would she have waited patiently? I could remember back to how small I had been when I was seven years old, so it was easy enough to envision that version of myself resting on this exact table. They wouldn't have needed to tranquilize me; I would have been able to remain still during the exam. My mother would have stood behind the evaluator conducting the testing in the office. Her arms would have been crossed as she watched over me protectively. Perhaps she would have been proud that I had reached that milestone.

These were the moments that my mother should have been here for. We had done everything together until she left to fight that monster.

A soft tear was zigzagging down my face when a small head with straw-colored hair appeared in my direct range of vision. One with red hair drawn up into a ponytail closely followed. The bed had been moving out of the machine and I hadn't even noticed. "That's it," Cynthia announced.

Maier moved around my body to remove the cords and stickers. "What did you think?"

I blinked upwards at them. "That's all?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"It's amazing, right?" Maier smiled.

Slowly sitting up, I aimed another question at them. "What are my results?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"The chancellor has asked us to not tell you. He wants to be the one who discusses them with you. I'll finish my report by this afternoon and get it over to him," Cynthia advised. I tried to read her expression for answers. She had mastered being expressionless.