“—we arrived late and found an air mage of all things squeezing the breath out of her lungs—”

“—I texted you at four and you got there at six. You literally had one fu—”

“—all this noise isn’t going to help—

“—your sister will be fine, I checked her over—”

“—let her get rest, saints knows she needs it—"

Val fell in and out of consciousness, feeling a palm on her forehead and the motion of someone carrying her. Whether she rode in a car was a mystery. At a point, voices came and went until a period of calmness thankfully rotated in. Ensconced in a number of blankets, as soon as she hit the snug embrace of a pillow, Val slipped into intense repose.

…

The loud yawn of an old door opening fissured the numb state of her mind, the sound bringing forth several memories, both pleasant and glum. This is Caro’s bedroom.

“Is she asleep?”

Bradley’s voice, deep in timbre, carried across from what Val assumed to be the doorways. It was always distinct, nearly monotone, never rising in pitch or tone no matter the topic—the exact opposite of his sister, Caro. Val did them the favour of pretending to sleep, deciding the hassle of conversation was too much right now.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Val’s eyebrows twitched up. While also moderately deep, the voice was clearly feminine, carrying a lilt of practiced intonation. Who’s that?

Creaks reached Val’s ears as they walked forward, the bed bending forward as the pair leaned against the frame, taking a seat right in front of where Val lay.

Val felt Bradley pull up the bedsheets to her shoulders. The action warmed her and she reeled in the smile threatening to break out on her lips, convincing herself to fall back asleep.

“I cannot stand some typics,” Bradley whispered, and Val could almost imagine behind her closed eyes the scar through his left eye warping as he talked. Though still monotone, Val’s ears learned to pick up the slight tint of emotions that edged in now and then. "To stand there as a young, sixteen-year-old girl is harassed right in front of you, just how low would you have to be at that point? For a mage sleeping in FHAs, a mere shout would disrupt her incantation, and do more than any of them cared to do.”

“Not everyone’s capable of looking out for more than themself, hon. Across all Identification Strains—typic, unbound, and mage,” the lady said, “you and your family are largely the exceptions. You know that.”

Hon? Val repeated internally. That seemed a little too close for friends, especially directed towards a person like Bradley. He'd be the first to shut down any means for assumptions. Are they…? Nah, Val thought, my sleep deprivation is finally catching up to me.

“Still very much irksome,” he muttered, unaware of Val's inner turmoil. The conversation lulled into silence for some time, Val almost slipping back into sleep before the lady spoke again.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she murmured. “Like the trials.”

The sudden and unfounded change in topic managed to tug on Val’s interest.

“How’re the preparations for that going?” Bradley asked.

“Some final touches to be done here and there, but it’s pretty much finished at this point,” she heard the lady respond.

“That’s weird,” Brad answered. “With how you’ve been stressing over the past couple of days, I thought it might not happen.”

Val’s ears perked up, the sleep all but banished at his words.

“It’s not the trial I’m worried about.” Her sigh ran deep. “I’m wondering how I’m going to hand out 2500 Aether Artifacts.”

“What, there’s too many?” Brad asked.

“Too little,” she emphasized. “Leave it to the Aether Artifact Allocation Committee to stress me out.”

“For you to spell out the full name…” Brad chuckled, which might have woken Val up even if the conversation was about clouds. He never chuckled. “Must be hell.”

“Well yeah, anything I say gets lost in a sea of votes,” she muttered in return. “It’s huge. I’m talking thousands.”

“Fiona, I know you hate to hear it,” Brad said, “but your family name carries weight—a truck ton of it. No need to add the fact that you’re a dual-bound Magus or a military Captain.”

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Val might’ve stopped breathing, the information becoming too heavy to bear. The Tripartite Trial was an event to detect those who have the potential to be a mage, that was how it had always been. Now, hearing there was a screening underneath yet another screening twisted Val’s gut into an ugly ball of nerves. Not to mention breathing the same air as a dual-bound Magus of all things.

“Let’s carry this conversation elsewhere and give Val some room,” Brad said as he made headway for the doors, evident by the noises following him.

“I’ll follow you out, just checking something on my phone.”

“Alright,” Brad called out.

With the conversation gone and little to focus on, Val marvelled at the clarity in her mind. Instead of the muddled mess slowing the gears of her brain, it was an expanse of untouched water. Still and calm, with the littlest of things reaching the forefront of her mind.

It made it all the easier to find quite the oddity.

The lowest of mages, the likes who had to take the bus to commute, made the threat of a vertiginous fall a reality. Yet a Magus, two entire ranks above that of a Novice, left her feeling better than her time around the typics. Val figured she could chalk it up to some rare skill.

More strange was the success at her pretense of sleep. Her lacking attempt might’ve thrown Bradley off, his senses still very much in the bounds of normality, but definitely not a mage.

Memories of Dad and Mom taking turns to catch her grinning under the blankets to sneak past their nightly checks—what had been rebellious to her back then—never working out remained vivid, and their highest peaks as elementalists were Novice.

There was no way a so-called Magus could not do the same. The mystery quickly devoured Val’s restraint, and as the Fiona's footfalls receded, she couldn’t keep it in.

“You knew I was awake.” Val pushed up on an elbow and stared at the back of the lady, shrugging off a few of the blankets and ignoring the explosion of colour throughout Caro’s room. “Why lie? Why have such a specific conversation, one I don’t think I was supposed to hear, unless you wanted me to have this information?”

“It’s hardly anything special.”

Val flinched back as the lady threw a glance over the shoulder, striking blue eyes encasing everything they gazed upon. She was Kidraan, tight curls puffed down to frame her face of mahogany complexion. Dark military fatigue bottoms and a white thermal shirt outlined her tall, athletic stature, and a metal plate with a name etched onto it dangled from her neck.

Rhodes. F

From the get-up alone, Val couldn't obtain the exact jurisdiction she was in, but it was obvious she served in some sort of way. Bradley, a member of the Defender's Army, the civil force responsible for rift ruptures and the like, exuded the same energy off of him.

Cool, calm, and collected.

“Scions of the First Halo have this info before they can walk," Rhodes added.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you intended for me of all people to hear it.” Val’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at here? What are you planning?”

The woman flashed a smile that would’ve made the average man blush. “I'm merely… evening out the playing field.”

----------------------------------------

Val rubbed the sleep from her face and shook herself awake, putting the rather interesting talk with the lady—Fiona—to rest. She had left for the living room without another word, not bothering to clear the accusation Val threw her way. Questions continued to rattle her mind in the mage's absence, enough to spur her out of bed. Rounding the corner out of the hallway, she could hardly take two steps before a blur of umber-brown hair and bright, golden eyes slammed into her torso.

“Slow down there, little guy.” Val chuckled as she wrapped her littlest brother in a hug.

Her worries vanished as Anderson broke out in a grin missing a couple of front teeth. “C’mon Vallie, we have a surprise set up!”

“Is it really a surprise if you tell her?”

Val didn’t have to look to know that it was her second brother’s remark that echoed across the room. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts while messing up his spiky pile of blonde bed hair.

“He's just excited,” Val said, eyes roaming the room as she was pulled in by Anderson. Banners hung from the ceilings, up around the couch, and even above the doorstep leading outside. A detail she missed while unconscious.

“He’s always excited,” she heard Kenneth mutter back as she passed.

The Hayes family decided to turn on more lights than usual, spheres full of radiant enchantments bathing the room in a cozy yellow. The long dinner table—a combination of all the counters they could find, including Caro's gaming desk—was covered in a checkered tablecloth, loads of dishes piled across.

At the center was sliced brisket laid onto a layer of tall leeks, grass-like almost, with drizzled gravy to finish off the Kidraan dish. A wide array of fruit trays were organized in an artistic manner around it, spaces filled with jugs of juice.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Caro stood akimbo at the head of the table. “Let’s eat!”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Happy New Years!”

Bradley raised a hand and paused the celebration, heads turning in his direction. "Tonight, we honour the prep graduates, Valory and Carielle, as well as," he gazed upon Caro, "a future, rising mage."

“Two mages.” Gazes darted from Bradley to Val at her statement, similar expressions of shock across their faces—slack jaw, raised eyebrows, stilled hand. A hint of a smile graced Val’s lips as she watched Caro’s almond-brown eyes widen in giddy anticipation. “Probably not rising for me though. I’d prefer growing, and very slowly, at that.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Bradley offered a smile, his cup hefted above the center of the table. “Both of whom I consider sisters, both of whom I consider talented—we wish all the best for tomorrow's trials. While my parents aren’t here, know that they think the same as well.”

Val’s words remained lodged in her throat. Settling for a heartfelt nod, she tapped his cup.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

As they dug in with vigour, as she ate and celebrated with loved ones, Val couldn’t help but smile. This, she thought, this is what I have to protect.

The Efron and Hayes families, too busy raising their glasses to a year of prosperity, failed to catch the unusual swaying of shadows behind the curtains. By the time Fiona’s ice-blue eyes glanced its way in suspicion—the response under the span of a millisecond—it was gone.