"Can someone help? The healing gone wrong!"
The training hall erupted in chaos. A Section C student writhed on the floor, his legs locked rigid while his face contorted in pain. Above him, Elya Greystar stood frozen, her hands still glowing with misfired light magic.
What should have been simple healing had become paralysis. Her spell had inverted itself, turning restoration into torment.
Other students backed away. Whispers spread like wildfire. "Unstable cleric." "Broken magic." "Stay clear of her."
I stepped forward while they retreated.
The victim's manna channels were overloaded with corrupted light. His nervous system couldn't process the chaotic signals. Basic problem with an obvious solution.
I knelt beside him and placed my palm on his forehead. A counter-spell flowed through my fingers, a gentle dissolution that unwound Elya's tangled casting. The paralysis faded slowly. Feeling returned to his legs.
"Better?" I asked.
He nodded, gasping. Rolled to his side and tested his limbs. Everything worked.
The instructor pushed through the crowd. Professor Hendricks, same man who'd called my healing "minimally competent" two days ago.
"Miss Greystar," his voice cut like glass. "This is the third incident this month. Perhaps you should consider transferring to theoretical studies."
Shame burned in Elya's cheeks. Her hands shook as she lowered them.
"The sigil timing was off," I said quietly. "Happens when you rush the incantation."
She looked at me with surprise. Most people just told her to practice more.
Hendricks glared at both of us. "Class dismissed. Clean up this mess."
Students filed out, leaving us alone with scattered practice equipment.
"Thank you." Elya's voice barely carried across the space between us. Red hair fell across her face as she stared at the floor.
"Your light magic is strong," I said. "Just needs refinement."
She laughed bitterly. "Strong? I paralyze people by accident."
"Better than too weak to help at all."
I gathered training dummies while she sorted spell components. Normal maintenance work that gave us reason to stay and talk.
"How did you know the counter-spell?" she asked.
"Borderland healing. You see every kind of magical accident." Another lie that felt like truth. "Your core technique is solid. The timing layers just need adjustment."
Her shoulders straightened slightly. Most people treated her magical failures as character flaws. I was discussing them like mechanical problems with technical solutions.
"Could you... show me? The timing adjustment?"
"Sure."
That afternoon, we got paired for defense scenarios. Pure coincidence, according to the assignment board. Instructor probably hoped we'd fail together and save time on individual humiliation.
The practice chamber filled with construct golems. Stone and metal animated by basic war-magic. They moved with mechanical precision, attacking in calculated waves.
"Light barriers," I suggested. "I'll handle tactical support."
Elya raised her hands. Pure radiance flowed from her palms, forming shields that actually held their shape. I guided her timing with subtle gestures, helping her layer the sigils properly.
The first golem struck her barrier and bounced off. Clean deflection with no magical feedback.
Her eyes widened. "It worked."
"Focus. More coming."
I cast enhancement buffs while she maintained the light wall. Our magic flowed together smoother than expected. Her divine energy complemented my support spells in ways that felt natural.
The final golem fell to a coordinated strike. Her barrier channeled my force magic into a focused pulse that shattered its core crystal.
Silence filled the chamber. Then scattered applause from students who'd been watching through observation windows.
Elya stared at her hands like they belonged to someone else. First time her magic had worked flawlessly in public.
"Want to grab lunch?" she asked.
We found a quiet corner in the kitchen annex. Away from Section A's marble tables and Section D's forgotten alcoves. Neutral ground where conversation came easier.
"Where did you really learn magic?" she asked around a bite of bread.
"Village healer." The standard lie felt stale now. "You?"
"Temple training. Holy orders are supposed to produce perfect little miracle workers." She gestured at herself with bitter humor. "Obviously didn't take."
I studied her face. Genuine person trapped in a system that measured worth by results. Like most of us, she'd been labeled a failure before getting a real chance.
"Academy treats us like broken tools," I said.
"Worse. Tools can be fixed or replaced. They act like we're fundamentally flawed." Her voice carried years of accumulated frustration. "Like wanting to help people is somehow wrong if you can't do it perfectly."
Something clicked into place. Another ally who understood the system's cruelty. Someone with both ability and motivation to change things.
"What if it didn't have to be that way?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing." I finished my meal quickly. "Just thinking out loud."
But her eyes lingered on my face. She'd heard the real question underneath.
That evening, I sat in my broken dorm room thinking about connections. Friendship carried both strength and risk. Ryn and Lute were one thing, fellow outcasts with nothing to lose. Elya was different. She had potential. Real talent that could be developed.
Investment in others created stakes. Made me vulnerable in ways I hadn't been since the Spire.
"Emotional bonds are weapons," Ayrith warned. "They can be turned against you."
Maybe. But they also multiplied power in ways pure strength couldn't match.
Through my window, eye runes tracked new relationship patterns. Ardyn's surveillance network logged every conversation, every shared meal, every moment of cooperation.
Isolation had been safer cover. But isolation wouldn't change anything.
The next morning brought announcements. Professor Hendricks stood before our combined classes with official scrolls.
"Practical examination begins tomorrow," he announced. "The Labyrinth Wing has been prepared with controlled hazards. Students will demonstrate real-world application of magical theory."
Excited murmurs rippled through the ranks. Section A students saw opportunity for glory. Section D students saw chances for humiliation.
I saw something else entirely.
The Labyrinth Wing connected to older parts of the academy. Forgotten chambers. Hidden passages. Areas where surveillance was lighter and secrets might be found.
"Time to see what they're really hiding."