Morning light barely broke through the heavy curtains when I quietly rose from bed. Packing didn't take long—I had almost nothing. The new uniform fit perfectly, as if tailored for me. That was unsettling.

  I cast one last glance at my sleeping brother. At this moment, without his usual mask of confidence, he looked like I remembered him. Just Elliot. My younger brother, whom I'd always protected. I didn't want to wake him, to say goodbye. It was easier this way.

  On the desk I left a note: "Transferred to a new class. Will explain later. Don't worry."

  The academy corridors in the morning hours resembled a labyrinth of shadows. Familiar turns, familiar creaking floorboards, familiar smell of old books and magical scrolls. But now all this seemed like stage props. A theater where I'd have to play yet another role.

  At the entrance to the east wing, a short man in a gray suit was already waiting for me. His thin face with pointed features looked pale in the morning light.

  "Mr. Caers? Please follow me."

  He didn't introduce himself. Just turned and walked forward with fussy little strides. I followed him, noticing how the architecture changed around us. The east wing had always been closed to students, various rumors circulated about it. Some said they conducted experiments on demons there, others—that ancient artifacts were stored there.

  Reality proved more mundane. Wide corridors with high vaulted ceilings, walls paneled in dark wood, heavy doors with copper plaques. Classrooms, nothing more. But there was something... alienating about this place. As if the space itself here obeyed different laws.

  We stopped before a door marked "Class 13." My guide knocked and, without waiting for an answer, threw it open.

  "I've brought the new student, Professor."

  The classroom was smaller than those I was used to. Six or seven desks arranged in a semicircle, a large blackboard filled with formulas I didn't understand. Five students sat at the desks—three guys and two girls. They all turned to me, studying with varying degrees of interest.

  At the board stood a tall man with graying short beard and attentive dark eyes. He nodded to my escort.

  "Thank you, Mr. Dears."

  When the door closed behind Dears, the professor turned to me.

  "Luten Caers, correct? I'm Professor Marcus Tyler. Head of the experimental class. You were all we were missing."

  "Sorry for being late. It was hard to find the entrance."

  "No matter. Since everyone's here, let's get acquainted."

  Professor Tyler swept his gaze across the classroom.

  "As you've all noticed, a new student has joined us. Luten Caers from... hmm, let's say, from the main stream. I think it would be fair if each of you introduced yourselves."

  A sturdy guy with a scar across his left cheek stood first. His movements were confident, economical, like a fighter used to conserving strength.

  "Kyle Ford. Son of Ford Senior. Almost no magic, but I can shut it down in others."

  He smirked slightly, appraisingly looking at me.

  "If you want to test it—come anytime. Just don't complain to the medics afterward."

  The girl with dark hair and scars on her arms sighed slightly, as if apologizing for Kyle's rudeness.

  "Mira Last. Psychometry. I read the histories of objects. Sometimes useful, more often—not really."

  Her voice was quiet but distinct. It carried a fatigue that couldn't be explained by lack of sleep or physical exhaustion. A soul's fatigue.

  "You're a former gifted one, right? I've heard about you. Heard a lot."

  I nodded, not knowing what to answer. Mira smiled weakly and returned to her notes.

  The thin nervous guy in the corner twitched as if bitten when his turn came.

  "Aris Drem. Shadows. I... work with shadows."

  His hands moved restlessly, as if trying to catch something invisible.

  "It's not scary. Just don't turn on all the lights. Please."

  When he spoke the last words, his eyes for a moment seemed to fill with blackness. Not just dilated pupils—darkness filled the entire space of his eyes completely.

  The fragile girl by the window stood, adjusting her reddish hair. A small vial with greenish liquid appeared in her hands.

  "Tara Velt. A witch, in simple terms. Mostly potions, brews, herbs. I can heal almost any wound, if it's not fatal."

  She twirled the vial between her fingers.

  "And I can cause almost any pain, if necessary."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The last phrase sounded so mundane it made me uneasy.

  The last to stand was a tall guy with a pale aristocratic face and cold gaze. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing a high forehead. He moved with some predatory grace.

  "Valentin Norse. I prefer to be called Val. Blood magic."

  He demonstratively ran his finger across his palm. A thin line of red appeared on the pale skin, but immediately coiled into a tiny crimson sphere hovering above his hand.

  "I'm sure we'll find common ground, Caers. After all, we both know what it's like to be special, then lose everything."

  There was a barely hidden challenge in his words. I met his gaze, refusing to look away. The small blood sphere above his palm pulsed like a tiny heart.

  "Enough, Val."

  Professor Tyler made a calming gesture.

  "Luten, now your turn. Tell us about yourself. What you could do before, what you can do now."

  I looked around the classroom. Five pairs of eyes, five different stories. Each of them was fractured differently. Each was here because they didn't fit standard frameworks. Like me now.

  "Luten Caers. Before—I could influence others' feelings and my own, but I lost my powers. I was kidnapped and held captive, they tried to get ransom, but I managed to escape."

  The class reacted differently. Some looked with bitterness, others didn't care. Their class clearly wasn't close-knit.

  "Well. Now that everyone's acquainted, let's move to the essence of our experimental class. You're all here because your magic doesn't fit traditional frameworks. It's either too dangerous, or too rare, or..."

  He looked at me.

  "Or it's been distorted or suppressed. Our task is to understand the true nature of your power and learn to control it. For some of you this will mean restoration. For others—taming. But for all—a new beginning."

  I sat in the empty seat between Mira and Tara. A strange feeling came over me. These people were strangers, unfamiliar, some—openly hostile. And yet I felt more in common with them than with my former classmates. Because they too were broken. And also trying to put themselves back together.

  The lesson began with theory. Professor Tyler spoke about non-standard manifestations of magic, about how traditional classification doesn't cover all the diversity of the gift.

  I listened with half an ear. It was hard to concentrate when Mira to my left occasionally threw studying glances at me, and Tara to my right quietly muttered something, mixing liquids in tiny test tubes.

  The atmosphere in class was tense. Kyle demonstratively looked out the window, Aris flinched every time sunbeams hit his desk. Val pretended to listen attentively, but his fingers restlessly tapped on the desk.

  We were all strangers to each other. Strangers suddenly gathered into one group.

  "Mr. Caers."

  The professor's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  "Do you agree with this statement?"

  "Sorry, Professor. I... got distracted."

  "I see. I was saying that lost magic can be restored if you find the right... key."

  "You think it's possible?"

  Val snorted from the other end of class.

  "Of course it's impossible. Otherwise people like you wouldn't exist. Burned-out magic is forever."

  "Not necessarily."

  Tara objected.

  "Depends on the cause of the loss."

  When the bell rang, Professor Tyler raised his hand, stopping us.

  "Before you leave, I have an announcement. According to the new program, your class will depart for your first training expedition in a week."

  Silence fell over the classroom. Then everyone started talking at once. Kyle jumped from his seat.

  "A week? We just met for the first time today! What nonsense is this?"

  "This is impossible. We barely remember each other's names. What expedition?"

  "Other classes had a year to prepare. A year of training, a year of joint lessons."

  Professor Tyler raised his hands, calling for silence.

  "I understand your concern. But the decision was made from the top. The expedition's goal is to test your practical skills in field conditions."

  "What skills? We haven't even trained together once."

  "And if we refuse?"

  Kyle hit the mark quickest.

  "You have no right to march us to our deaths."

  "That's not an option. Participation is mandatory for all experimental class students. Those are the rules."

  "Rules?"

  Val laughed, but there was no mirth in his laughter.

  "Or is it someone's order?"

  I was still processing everything but joined the discussion too.

  "The chosen class at least knew what to expect from each other. They trained together, fought together. And what do we have?"

  "Quite right, Mr. Caers. And since you have the relevant experience, you're appointed group leader."

  Now all eyes turned to me. Val's eyes showed open indignation, Kyle frowned, Aris looked frightened, Tara—thoughtful, and Mira... Mira was smiling, as if everything was going according to a plan she knew well.

  "Professor, with all due respect... I just appeared in this class today. We don't know each other."

  "It's decided. The expedition starts in a week. The goal—abandoned mines south of the academy. You'll need to explore one of the lower levels, collect ore samples and return. A simple task."

  "In the mines? But there's..."

  "Darkness. Yes, Mr. Drem. That should be comfortable for you."

  "What about demons?"

  Kyle continued hitting the mark.

  "Everyone knows lower-rank demons have infested those mines."

  "Nothing academy students couldn't handle."

  I muttered, finishing the teacher's thoughts.

  "Students who know how to work together."

  "The rules are the same for everyone. You'll get details tomorrow. For now, I recommend getting to know each other better. After all, soon you'll have to trust each other with your lives."

  We silently gathered our things. The atmosphere in class had changed: tension became palpable, almost material.

  Val, passing by me, hissed:

  "This is pure suicide. And if you think I'll obey a former 'chosen one' without power, you're deeply mistaken."

  "I didn't ask for this role. And I agree with you. A week is insanity."

  "Then do something! You were in that privileged class. There must be connections, ways to postpone this outing."

  "I'll try talking to the director. But I'm not sure it'll help. If Allarid is involved..."

  "Allarid?" Mira approached closer. "The new deputy director?"

  "Word gets around. He appeared recently but already made a name with his... specific teaching methods."

  "There are rumors that under his leadership several students didn't return from training."

  "And what do you suggest?"

  "First—eat. Then decide how we'll prepare for this expedition. Because it seems we have no choice."

  We headed to the cafeteria—five strangers randomly gathered into one class and faced with a common threat. It wasn't the best start for a team. But we had no other options.