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It was after nightfall when Mira rushed along the empty hallways of Ivercrest, headed for the storage room she had spotted earlier. The perfect place to conduct her potion experiment. She held her notebook and supplies tightly.

She hustled by gold artifacts in glass cases and large statues of former Wielders—like Percival Brooks. Legend had it he defeated a hoard of Feeder demons by himself. Or Tobias Vandervalt, who was credited with saving an entire city from Inseeli demons. A heavy oil painting hung to her left depicting the moment Vandervalt and his men stormed into battle, knowing they were headed for certain death. Ivercrest was a museum, celebrating itself. No mention, though, of the atrocities Wielders unleashed during the war. It would taint the pristine image of the school. Better to forget the past than deal with it. That should be Ivercrest’s motto.

When she reached the storage room, she placed the ingredients and candles on a nearby table. Only moonlight illuminated the room, which was filled with supplies in differently shaped vials, bottles, and jars. She searched the vast selection of bowls to find the one best suited for her potion. She decided on snow quartz, which was an amplifying and harmonizing crystal.

Her palms were sweaty when she reached for the black candles, arranging them in a circle around the bowl.

Making potions was not simply following a recipe. It required concentration, and in this particular case, it was part of a larger spell, involving multiple potions.

She tied her hair into a knot and opened her notebook.

In her research, she concluded she needed to approach her scar removal in three different steps:

Locate the remainder of Dark Magic residue. (Although every healer had told her there was none, she was convinced their locator spells were simply not sophisticated enough.)

Extract the leftover Dark Magic.

Heal her scar.

It sounded easy, but years of failed attempts had told her otherwise. So far, she couldn’t even get step one right.

She took a deep breath.

“Worst-case scenario the locator spell doesn’t work,” she said to herself, lighting the candles.

She poured the serrumptase and nightgale shade in the bowl, followed by the other ingredients she had been collecting over the years. Common things that were easily available in most potion stores.

The resulting potion should be able to cut through the first layer of her scar so it could locate the Dark Magic residue in her system. Magic scars worked differently from regular ones.

She held her hand above the bowl and closed her eyes, focusing on her Caster magic. It activated the different ingredients and she tried to command them, feeling the delicate dance of powers. Composing potions was like juggling. She directed the ingredients, tempered one, and strengthened the other until that moment of harmony. When she was satisfied, she opened her eyes. The potion glowed bright blue, which was surprising because none of the ingredients should have created that color.

The problem was, she didn’t know exactly how much to use. Too much, and it could burn through her entire arm. Too little, and it wouldn’t penetrate the skin.

Using a pipette, she placed three drops on a piece of paper first. When it didn’t burn a hole into it, she deemed it safe enough to test on her skin. The blue liquid fell onto her scar. It didn’t hurt, so she let another drop fall. Maybe she had used too little nightgale shade? But when the next drop touched her skin, it turned black. She dropped the pipette with shaking hands and stared at the liquid, bubbling over as if it was boiling.

This must be another nightmare. She was going to wake up any moment now. Moving away from the table, she pressed herself against the wall.

“It’s not real,” she told herself. “It’s not real.”

Hot, searing pain shot up her arm. Her scar looked unchanged, but it felt like she had just touched Synth again. She screamed and the potion seeped down the edges of the bowl, burning through stone and metal.

It’s not real.

She fell to her knees and closed her eyes, hoping it would all end.

There was a snap in the air and then the magic reaction ended at once.

Blinking her eyes open, she saw a set of black shoes in front of her.

The pain in her arm subsided in an instant. Dark eyes landed on her with heavy accusation.

Highmage Obryn cast several spells to contain and clean up her mess until nothing was left aside from the melted bowl and a destroyed table.

Mira stood up as he moved to her supplies, including the illegally obtained ingredients she had assembled. This was it. She was finished at Ivercrest. He would recommend expulsion.

“Reckless foolishness,” he hissed with venom as he took her notebook. She wanted to rip it from his hands. It wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes but hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said, out of breath, searching for more words—better-suited ones for a situation like this—but she came up blank.