Life had been good lately. Strangely good.

  Inside Elira's room, the afternoon sun shone through the curtains. The warm light lay on the mess of books and papers.

  "Okay. Try to make it hold the quill," Arlen instructed. His pen hovered over his notebook.

  Elira sat on the bed. Her eyebrows furrowed.

  A small blob of flesh lay on the desk, about the size of a grapefruit.

  Focus.

  Elira visualized a hand. Five fingers. Knuckles. A palm.

  The flesh rippled. Slowly, three stubby fingers extended from the main body. They wrapped clumsily around the quill on the desk.

  "You did it," Arlen whispered.

  The blob dissolved into a puddle of goo. The quill fell.

  "This is so hard," Elira groaned, falling back on her pillows.

  "Three seconds," Arlen said, hand moving on his note. "A two-second improvement from yesterday. Your control increases exponentially when you remain calm."

  He pushed his glasses, a grin on his face.

  "At this rate, constructs are possible. Shields. Maybe even medical prosthetics."

  Elira scrunched her nose. "Gross. Who would want that?"

  "If it saves lives, does its look matter?" Arlen countered. "Besides, I think it looks cute, in a horrifying way."

  Elira looked at the puddle on her desk. She commanded the substance to return. It seeped back into her skin.

  It felt warm… like a part of her.

  "...Maybe," Elira whispered.

  The changes weren't just in her room. They bled into other parts of her life.

  "The fundamental principle of mana conservation states that energy cannot be created, only converted," the professor lectured. His voice droned on. "Can anyone tell me the exception to this rule?"

  Usually, Elira would stare at her desk. She would try to become invisible.

  Today, she looked at Arlen. He nodded.

  Elira raised her hand.

  The class went silent. Even the professor was surprised.

  "Yes... Student Elira?"

  "Soul Resonance. Spells’ output exceeds exponentially when the soul resonates with ambient mana. Though scholars still argue that it draws from a higher dimension."

  "Correct," the professor said, a smile on his face. "Excellent answer."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Elira sat down. Her heart fluttered.

  "Tch."

  A sharp scoff echoed from the back.

  Marcelline kicked her desk. Her eyes glared at Elira’s back.

  "Don't get cocky, peasant," Marcelline hissed. Her voice was loud enough to reach the nearby tables. "Memorizing a textbook doesn't change your nature. A rat in a dress is still a rat."

  A month ago, Elira would have stayed silent.

  Now, she locked eyes with the princess.

  "And a princess who loses to a rat," Elira murmured, tapping her finger on her desk. "What does that make her?"

  The air left the room.

  No one laughed. No one breathed. The entire class froze, terrified by the sheer audacity.

  Marcelline’s face turned purple. She slammed her hands on her desk. "You little..."

  "Is there a problem, Princess Marcelline?" the professor asked, turning around to look at the class.

  Marcelline froze. She looked around at the silent room. A public outburst here would only lower her dignity further.

  "No," she spat. "No problem."

  She sat back down, seething.

  Elira grinned back at Arlen. The boy tried to keep a straight face and gave her a covert thumbs-up under the table.

  The incense's smoke lingered in the air. Its lavender smell was suffocating.

  Elira sat in the chair, trying not to sneeze.

  Across from her, the woman was talking. And talking.

  "...and frankly, the cafeteria's refusal to stock gluten-free mana bread is an assault on my spiritual wellness. I felt my aura dimming just walking past the kitchen. You see it, don't you? Those environmental toxins are the silent killer of potential."

  "...I guess.”

  Elira looked down at the woman's nametag.

  Ms. Livia

  I should remember that.

  "Exactly. I knew you would get it." Ms. Livia leaned forward. Her eyes narrowed, scanning Elira's face. "You look different today. The dark circles are fading. Finally doing those breathing exercises I mentioned?"

  "Uh... sure," Elira lied.

  "I knew it!" Ms. Livia clapped. "My methods are flawless. I should really publish a case study on you."

  She scribbled something down on her notepad, probably the title of her future memoir.

  "Now," Livia said, admiring her manicure. "The administration mentioned the integration program. The deskmate. Is he still tolerating you?"

  "Yes," Elira said. "Arlen."

  "Right. The bookish one. Probably desperate for extra credit. Is it working? I imagine it's exhausting for him to drag you along."

  Elira tightened her grip. Her hands press on her skirt.

  "He helps," She said softly.

  "Well, that's something," Livia sighed, checking the clock. "Just be careful. You don't want to become a parasite. Co-dependency is such an ugly trait, and boys like that eventually get bored with charity cases."

  Elira stared at her reflection in the teacup.

  He doesn't see a charity case.

  She didn't say it out loud. Livia wouldn't understand. She would just turn it into a lecture about boundaries or her own dating life.

  "And the magic?" Livia asked, stifling a yawn. "Still terrified of your own shadow?"

  Elira looked down at her hand. She remembered the warmth of the flesh blob.

  "...I don’t know."

  "Hm?" Livia raised an eyebrow.

  "It's... better."

  "Good," Livia said, standing up abruptly. "Then my work here is clearly done for the day. You're improving, Elira. Try not to ruin it before next week."

  "Right," Elira said, standing up. "Thanks."

  "Visualize the cloud!"

  Elira walked out of the office. She closed the door, separating herself from the suffocating smell of lavender and the sound of Livia humming.

  She took a deep breath.

  Livia was wrong. About the charity. About the parasite.

  Elira walked along the hall.

  For the first time, the future didn't look like a black void.

  It looked like hope.