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Mira flinched. Of course she seemed happy if he had transmuted her emotions.

According to his file, Dawson had five signifiers. A powerful Wielder with remarkable dueling skills. Then her eyes fell on the next paragraph and her breath caught.

“He…he used to be Mercer’s soldier?” she croaked, hoping this was all an elaborate prank. But nobody said a word.

Just pretend you’re researching someone who has nothing to do with you, she reminded herself, and kept reading.

Because he had been a minor at the beginning of the war, the council had refrained from sending him to prison. There were exceedingly few details about what he had done during the war, and that worried her. Had he killed people?

She closed the file. It was enough for one day. Maybe she didn’t need to know more about him. Perhaps it was better to pretend none of this had ever happened.

—

The next day she felt constantly on the cusp of something. Like the feeling of having a word on the tip of your tongue that you can’t quite get to.

She didn’t remember anything of her time at Ivercrest except for her first day. The entry test. Getting pulled into the Dark Magic Institute. Her memories stopped right when she walked into a party to solicit ingredients for her potion. But she didn’t know if she ever got them.

Her head was in a cloud. Nothing felt quite real. Because Dawson’s spell didn’t go as planned, Obryn wasn’t surprised by the unusual side effects.

When she was released from the healing quadrant, Obryn walked her to her room. They passed through a magic gate to the Dark Magic wing. Until her feet hit the stone floor, she still didn’t believe it. But here she stood—a Wielder. With five signifiers. At Ivercrest. They passed empty hallways and a large staircase. Everything felt so cold and foreign, even the flame burning in a hand statue didn’t bring much warmth.

This place should feel like home.

“How is it possible that I ended up in Dark Magic?” she asked the Highmage as they ascended the stairs. The only sound came from their footsteps.

“Magic knows us better than we know ourselves. I believe when you entered Ivercrest you thought about removing your scar.”

She froze. Nobody knew about her plan to remove her scar. Obryn stopped a few steps above her and turned, perhaps waiting for her to realize what he was saying.

With everything that had been going on during the last few days, she had brushed aside the fact that she didn’t feel her scar burning. That she didn’t have nightmares.

“I don’t feel it anymore. My scar.”

Hands behind his back, he didn’t move a muscle as his dark eyes looked down at her, seemingly gauging what to tell her. “You don’t feel your scar anymore because you used your Dark Magic to remove Synth that was beneath it.”

Gasping for air, she held on to the railing for support. How? she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t speak as she fought tears. Obryn’s facial expression didn’t change. Instead of saying anything else, he turned and continued walking up the stairs.

She followed but dared to look under her sleeve. The stinging sensation that normally followed when she uncovered it didn’t come. Instead, the familiar lines, carved into her skin by Synth, sat dormant. No longer did they have any meaning.

“Do keep up, Miss Winters,” the Highmage reprimanded her.

There was a lightness to her step now. Everything she had come to Ivercrest for had somehow already been accomplished. Who cared if she got her memories back or not? The scar, although not removed, no longer had power over her. She was free. There was no reason for her to stay at the school. She didn’t need to know how to use her signifiers.

They entered her room, which she only vaguely recognized. Obryn told her there was no rush for her to come back to class and to focus on her recovery.

What was the point of staying at Ivercrest now that she had accomplished quieting her scar? She felt for it again, that beating drum of Synth. But the only thing she found was the gentle hum of her own magic.

She could just leave now. Return to Yharvan and never look back. But as her eyes fell on her Shadowflame and the signifiers on her fingers, she couldn’t help that burning need to know more about the last few months. Finally, she had freed herself from the Dark Magic underneath her scar, but she had no recollection of it.

Now that she knew it was Dark Magic that had helped her accomplish this, she couldn’t despise the dark ink on her hand anymore.

“How did I get so many signifiers in such a short time?” she asked the Highmage, who had not moved from the spot by her desk.

“I would not know. I wasn’t there.”

“Oh, I assumed it was in your class. Is there another Highmage who teaches signifiers?”

Obryn adjusted his glasses. “You acquired your signifiers outside of Ivercrest.”