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“If we knew the reason why her body reacted that way to the spell—”

“Yes, evidently we would all be better off knowing the exact cause.”

Mira wanted to say something but couldn’t.

With all of her energy, she tried to move her hand or open her mouth, but her body didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

The healer turned to Mira, and her eyes widened in shock. “Highmage Obryn!”

The Highmage shoved the healer to the side and grabbed Mira’s hand, feeling for her pulse.

“Miss Winters, how are you feeling?”

She swallowed, and her mouth felt like cotton. Her tongue was heavy. “I…” she croaked, and coughed instantly.

“Bring her some water,” the Highmage instructed.

The healer handed her a glass of water and she gingerly took it, sitting up shakily and placing it against her dry lips. Cool and soothing, the water washed the odd sour taste from her tongue.

“How are you feeling?” the Highmage tried again.

“My head hurts, but I feel all right. What happened?”

“Mira,” Ella exclaimed excitedly, and rushed to her bed. “We were worried sick about you.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” she said as she looked around the unfamiliar room. A healing quadrant of some sort. Her brain just caught up with the man’s name. Highmage Obryn. She had read about him. He was the head Highmage for Dark Magic. And then it all came back to her. The first day at Ivercrest. The entry test. “I hit my head pretty hard.”

“When?”

“During the failed entry test. Everything turned dark after that. And then…” But that couldn’t be true. A nightmare, perhaps? “I had this strange dream that I was dragged into the wrong department.”

They all turned silent, and she felt like she had said something wrong.

“What?” Mira asked, confused.

Ella looked crestfallen and stared at Obryn, who wrote notes in Mira’s chart.

“That was a nightmare, right?” she asked.

The Highmage kept writing. “No recollection of anything after the entry test at the Circular Hall on admission’s day. It’s more severe than I thought.”

Mira pulled her right hand from underneath the bedsheet to confirm it for herself. Then she saw it. Not a nightmare.

“That can’t be.” She stared at the Shadowflame on her hand. A sharp, piercing pain shot through her head. What had happened? She stretched her fingers and then, one by one, she saw the signifiers. All five. Impossible. She couldn’t have a single signifier, let alone all five. She was a Caster. Perhaps she was still in the nightmare. All she had to do was wake up.

Ella sat down on the bed next to her. “It’s all good, Mira. You’re actually an exceptional Wielder.”

She was going to be sick.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Obryn said. “It is important that you get some rest.”

“No, I want an explanation. How is this possible? I get dragged into the wrong department and now I have all five signifiers? That makes no sense.” Maybe if she reasoned with her nightmare, it would see how ridiculous this premise was.

Obryn adjusted his glasses. “Miss Winters, a fellow student wiped your memories, erasing seemingly everything from the moment you became a Wielder four months ago.”

She sat up higher in her bed. Coldness swept through her at the realization that this was not a dream. “Four months?” The thought of what she had lost made her feel sick. Months of her life. Wiped away. She was a student at Ivercrest yet had no recollection of it. Her head throbbed, trying to remember a shred of what had happened. “Who?”

“Not important at the moment. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”