Sasha.

--- Third entry ---

So I said that the date never happened, right? So dramatically, even. I realize I’m thinking about you, how you would read it, and how you’ll experience it as I plan; in a way, I want you to feel things. How I would’ve if I had read it.

But I have no idea what you would feel, do I? You are me, but also… not. And it’s fine. You don’t have to, you know? Just please, live. That’s all I really want. Please, please, live.

We went today over the failsafes Edgar and the others constructed to keep me—you—from self-annihilating right away. The spellwork is still a bit too complex for me, but I should be able to do it in a couple of months. But he really wants me to understand the matrix and conduits; I’m not fully convinced, but he keeps insisting I should learn as much as possible in the short time left. As if I’ll need any of this there. Did you use any of it? Do you remember learning? Did I do enough? Did it help you, at least a bit?

Anyway, failsafes. I dread to think of why and how they will be used. I cannot imagine it—instinctive self-annihilation. I want to live so much. Why won’t you? What will Chaos do to you?

I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?

So, back to the date that never happened.

Monday, the week when we agreed to meet on Friday—I remember this week very well because this was the beginning of my end—was pretty ordinary at first. We were at lunch in the cafeteria, and everything was usual: students laughing, plates clattering, the hum of chatter creating a comforting buzz around me. I had just taken a sip of my second coffee of the day—okay, maybe fourth, but who’s counting?—when I overheard it. A research study. And they were paying well. I was always broke, remember? Meaning I needed money. Desperately.

“Yeah, booths are all over campus,” someone at the next table said, waving a glossy flyer. “They’re offering decent cash for a quick test. No needles.”

It did matter because I didn’t like needles back then. Pain was… different then, wasn’t it? I knew nothing about real pain; I still don’t, not really. Not yet. But you do, don’t you?

The study wasn’t unusual; the campus was always buzzing with some kind of research. But this felt different—bigger. The flyers were too well-designed, with a sheen that suggested serious money behind them. Nothing like the usual psychology department surveys or whatnot.

“Hey, wanna go see what it’s about?” I nudged Alex, who was balancing her tray as she sat down.

“You and your extra gigs,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, let’s do it. After class.”

I almost forgot about it by the time the lecture started. Cell biology was harder to focus on than usual, maybe because I hadn’t had enough coffee. Still, after class, we made our way to one of the booths just outside the faculty building.

I often think now, what would’ve happened if I didn’t volunteer? Would they still have found me? Edgar says yes, that the next stage would’ve been to scan everyone anyway. But it would’ve been much later, and possibly with worse consequences. More eruptions, a much higher risk of full-scale invasion, less time to train, less chance that you survive. So, I guess it was for the better. Although I want nothing more than to pretend that somehow I could’ve been left unfound.

That somebody else someplace else would’ve been found. Not me. Please, just not me.

Am I a bad person to wish this fate on someone else? Do you despise me for it?

Well, back to the study. Two researchers in white coats stood by a folding table. A line of students had already formed. They handed me a consent form—something about energy mapping, soul frequencies, and population statistics. I skimmed through the text, catching a few key terms, but it looked standard. They were probably just gathering data to see how arcane patterns varied among students, I thought. They made an effort to look like that, at least.

I signed it, handed it back without much thought, and stepped into a small, nondescript space inside the booth. The researcher didn’t even look up as I entered. He seemed tired, shadows under his eyes.

“Long day?” I asked, trying to make small talk as I sat across from him.

He chuckled without humor, adjusting some wires connected to a glowing, rune-covered machine. “You could say that.”

When he finally glanced up at me through the scope, though, everything changed. His weariness vanished, replaced by wide eyes and stiff posture. He quickly motioned for his colleague, a woman in her forties, who leaned over and peered through the same device. Her reaction mirrored his: surprise, confusion, and—recognition. They didn’t expect to find it, did they? But there I was.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Uh, everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but my pulse quickened.

They exchanged a look—one that spoke of something more than just curiosity—before the man straightened up. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, though his voice was higher, tenser. “Just some unusual readings.”

“Nothing to worry about,” the woman added with a forced smile. Liar. There was everything to worry about. But not for them, of course.

They asked for my contact details once more, even though I’d already filled them out on the form. I scribbled them down again, feeling a flicker of unease but brushing it aside. It was probably just an administrative thing.

“Thank you for participating,” the woman said, her smile polite but not entirely comforting. “We might need to follow up soon. It’s just standard procedure.”

I nodded, stepping out of the booth and back into the cold, but something stayed with me. Guess what? You think I was considering what it could really mean? No. I had a spark of hope, maybe? Maybe they’d found something special. Maybe all my dreams of studying magic weren’t as far-fetched as they seemed. Maybe…

Alex raised an eyebrow when I approached. “Boring, right?”

“Not sure,” I admitted, slipping my hands into my coat pockets. “They said they might need me again.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “They didn’t say anything to me.”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual, but inside, that flicker of hope refused to go out. Maybe this was my shot. I wanted to study magic so desperately that I latched onto this one thing. But at least it bought me some time before realizing the truth.

The next morning, our dorm was a blur of the usual rush—Alex frantically searching for her other shoe, and me downing my third cup of coffee. As soon as we stepped outside, the sharp, cold air hit me. The kind of chill that wakes you up no matter how much sleep you get, even if you might have spent most of the night overanalyzing the day before.

And then, this feeling came. Like someone was watching me. My skin prickled, and I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. Of course, nothing. I shook my head, willing myself to calm down. You’re not important enough to be followed, Sasha, I told myself. How I wish that had been true.

“Everything good?” Alex asked, catching my glance.

“Yeah, just... thought I saw something.”

“You’ve been watching those crime shows again, haven’t you?”

I grinned. “Maybe.” But I was right. I was being followed. At least I wasn’t paranoid.

She rolled her eyes, and we laughed, but the feeling didn’t completely fade. I tried to shake it off. It had mostly faded into the background by the time we were halfway to the lecture hall.

Until the course coordinator walked into the room, her eyes scanning the class.

“Alexandra Irving?” she called, her voice cutting through the usual classroom murmur.

My heart skipped a beat. What did I do? My brain jumped from the harmless prank from last semester to something far worse—something happening to my family. Ilya. Kostya. Mom.

“Come with me, please.”

I glanced at Alex, who looked concerned but said nothing. My stomach twisted as I followed the coordinator down the hall. Deep breaths, Sasha. It’s probably nothing.

But when she led me to a room I didn’t recognize, the unease settled back in, heavy. The space was filled with arcane devices and arc-tech, and people in white coats milled about, their expressions too serious for comfort. At the center of it all stood a man with a soft smile, his eyes far too sharp. He introduced himself as "Master Ivan." Master meant he was a certified mage; that’s an honorific you get when you earn a diploma. They probably call you "mistress" now, right? The female version? They do me. "Mistress Irving." I actually like it, despite… everything. Do you? Do you understand these nuances? They probably seem so strange to you, don’t they?

Back then it was still "miss." “Ah, Miss Irving,” he greeted me with a small nod. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured to a chair. “We just need to run a few more tests. Shouldn’t take long.”

I glanced around, nerves tightening in my chest. No other students. Just me. “What kind of tests?” I asked, my voice smaller than I’d like.

“Just follow-ups from yesterday,” he said, waving it off like it was nothing. “Routine.”

I wanted to leave, but they insisted I’d agreed to it—showing me the form I’d signed yesterday, my signature clear at the bottom. I stared at it, trying to make sense of the legal jargon. How did I miss this?

They handed me a cup of coffee. A good one, not the watery cafeteria kind. They were polite, treating me like an adult, like everything was perfectly normal.

I sat down, gripping the warm cup in my hands, while the machines hummed softly. They strapped devices to my wrists and temples, all while making strained small talk. It was strange, but not uncomfortable; the machines pricked occasionally with static, like tiny sparks under my skin. A part of me still clung to hope. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was my shot.

The tests dragged on longer than I expected, and the researchers murmured quietly to each other, their words just out of reach. I felt like a puzzle they were trying to solve, and each test was another piece they were trying to fit into place. All the while, I kept telling myself it was fine. This was the university. They wouldn’t do anything bad, right? Right?

Finally, they unhooked me, the machines letting out soft clicks as they powered down. Master Ivan handed me an envelope—thicker than before.

“Thank you, Miss Irving. We appreciate your cooperation,” he said, but his smile felt off, like there was something he wasn’t saying. I wonder what he was thinking at that moment. Did he hope they were right, or did he hope they were wrong?

I stood on shaky legs. “So… is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he assured me, but his eyes said otherwise. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything more.”

I nodded, stepping outside into the cold. The chill bit into my skin, but it didn’t feel refreshing. I clutched the cash envelope in my hands, but its weight didn’t ease the tightness in my chest.

Something wasn’t right. Even then, I felt it.

Whatever had happened in that room, it wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.