Morning did not announce itself with birdsong.
Genevieve woke to the quiet hum in the walls, a steady resonance that seemed to replace the natural rhythms she was used to. For a moment she lay still, staring at the pale ceiling as memory returned in pieces. The flicker of lanterns. The mark above the door. The way her magic had leapt toward something she could not see.
She sat up slowly.
The room looked unchanged in the soft light filtering through the window. The hearth remained dark. The desk was neat. No sign remained of the symbol that had flared above the doorframe during the night. If she had not felt the echo of it lingering faintly in her chest, she might have believed it had been a dream.
Sylvester stretched beside her, shaking out his fur. "You slept," he said.
"Barely."
"That counts."
Genevieve stood and crossed to the window. Outside, Agragore's inner grounds were alive with quiet movement. Students and candidates crossed courtyards in small groups, their paths guided by lanterns that glowed softly even in daylight. The academy felt less watchful in the morning, though she suspected that was an illusion.
A soft knock came at the door.
Genevieve froze.
"Genevieve Rose," a voice called, polite and measured. "This is Steward Alric. May I enter?"
She exchanged a glance with Sylvester, then took a breath. "Yes."
The door opened smoothly. A man stepped inside, his posture straight and his robes plain compared to the others she had seen. He carried a small tablet tucked beneath one arm, its surface etched with faint runes that shifted as he moved.
"I trust you rested well," he said, though his eyes moved quickly around the room, noting the window, the desk, the hearth.
"I rested," Genevieve replied carefully.
He inclined his head. "Excellent. There was… an unusual fluctuation in the wards assigned to this chamber last night."
Her heart thudded.
"I was told not to wander," she said evenly. "I did not."
"And you complied," Alric agreed. "That is noted."
Not reassured.
He tapped the tablet lightly, then looked up. "The council has requested your presence later this morning. Until then, you are free to join the other candidates for breakfast and orientation."
Orientation.
The word sounded harmless. She suspected it wasn't.
Alric paused at the door. "One more thing. If you experience further disturbances, you are to inform a steward immediately."
"Disturbances," she repeated.
His lips twitched faintly. "That is the official term."
When he left, the door closed without a sound.
Sylvester hopped onto the desk. "That was not a check-in," he said. "That was confirmation."
Genevieve exhaled slowly. "They know it wasn't the wards."
"They know it was you," Sylvester corrected gently.
She dressed quickly, choosing simple clothes that felt grounding. As she braided her hair, she caught her reflection in the window glass and barely recognized herself. She looked the same. She felt stretched, as though the world had pulled her outward overnight.
The dining hall was vast but welcoming in a way the rest of Agragore was not. Long tables filled the space, warm light reflecting off polished stone. The scent of bread and herbs filled the air, comforting and familiar.
Genevieve hesitated at the entrance.
"Over here."
The voice belonged to the dark-haired boy she had noticed during the assessment. He sat at the edge of a table, posture relaxed but alert, his eyes sharp with curiosity.
She approached cautiously. "You were there yesterday."
He nodded. "Everyone noticed your turn."
That made her stomach twist. "I didn't mean to draw attention."
He smiled slightly. "That's usually when it happens."
"I'm Genevieve."
"Devyn," he replied. "From the eastern coast."
They ate in relative silence at first, broken only by the low murmur of conversation around them. Genevieve listened more than she spoke, piecing together fragments of other candidates' stories. Some came from noble families. Others from distant towns. A few spoke openly of tutors and lineage.
She said nothing about hers.
"So," Devyn said eventually, "do you plan to cooperate?"
"With what?" she asked.
He tilted his head. "Everything."
She considered the question carefully. "I plan to learn."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," she agreed. "It isn't."
After breakfast, they were guided through the academy grounds in small groups. A robed instructor spoke pleasantly about rules and expectations, about safety and responsibility. Genevieve listened, but her attention kept drifting to the way the academy responded to movement. Doors opened before hands reached them. Paths subtly adjusted beneath their feet.
Agragore was not passive.
At the end of the tour, the group dispersed.
"Genevieve Rose."
Her name carried across the courtyard. Mistress Elowen stood near a shaded archway, hands folded, expression unreadable.
"This way."
Genevieve followed, heart pounding.
They entered a narrow chamber lined with tall mirrors. The air felt thicker here, heavy with quiet magic.
"You felt the academy respond to you last night," Elowen said calmly.
"Yes."
"And you did not report it."
"I did not know what it meant."
"And now?" Elowen asked.
Genevieve met her gaze. "I think it meant you wanted to see how I would react."
A pause.
Then, a faint smile. "Perceptive."
"What happens now?" Genevieve asked.
Elowen gestured toward the mirrors. "Now you choose."
"Choose what?"
"Compliance," Elowen said. "Or agency."
Genevieve's pulse thundered in her ears. "Those aren't opposites."
"They are here."
The mirrors shimmered faintly, reflecting not just her image, but flickers of light beneath her skin. Her magic stirred, attentive and waiting.
Genevieve straightened her shoulders.
"I will not resist you," she said slowly. "But I will not surrender myself either."
The hum in the room shifted.
Elowen inclined her head. "Then we proceed carefully."
As Genevieve left the chamber, she felt the invisible threads tighten once more, not restraining her, but acknowledging her choice.
For the first time since arriving at Agragore, she felt something settle within her.
Not safety.
But resolve.
And Agragore, watching as it always did, adjusted its measure accordingly.