This certainly wasn’t on my map.

  I had my doubts about magic’s ability to carve out a stable evacuation tunnel suitable for escorting so many people in the span of a few seconds. The only explanation for this tunnel was that it always existed, but was hidden for some reason. Another worry I had was the lack of exits this underground field had: it had only 2 stairways at opposite ends of the school, which served as both entrances and exits. They weren’t even sufficiently big, just wide enough to hold 2 people running alongside each other. This tunnel, however, was wide enough to fit 5 people standing alongside each other. With proper guidance, everyone can be evacuated efficiently.

  It’d work with proper lighting, but I don’t see sconces lining the walls.

  I turned around to see the students and company.

  Although they seemed calmer than when they were in the cafeteria, I still sensed they were on edge. Seeing a giant storm that close to the school could put anyone in a panic. The real question is how well they handle their panic.

  I had already imagined using a magical ball as a flashlight to traverse the dark tunnel, but that would only help see what’s in front of me. I was uncertain if I could produce functioning flashlight balls for everyone. It’d be easier if I just lit up the tunnel.

  Where does this lead anyway?

  I looked over toward Mr. Blonde.

  With how fast he commanded other students to reveal this passage, it’s clear he intends to use it, but there’s hesitation written on his face.

  I produced a paper with a simplistic diagram showing us near the beginning of the tunnel and an empty space at the end. I needed to know if this would lead everyone to safety, since it was extremely likely I’d be travelling down it too.

  Seconds after he took the paper, I produced a clipboard with the spring mechanism that holds sheets in place before conjuring and handing him a pencil. While I waited for him, I heard Mr. Bleach’s voice organizing the students. They were organized into 5 single-file lines. Moments later, 3 people stood in front of different lines. The nurse, the patient she treated, and Mr. Bleach.

  Seeing the lines, I moved toward the end of the shortest one, but was stopped by a tap on my shoulder. Mr. Blonde handed me the paper I gave him, with the addition of another symbol in the blank space.

  The design of the symbol looked much simpler compared to the school’s emblem. It was a longsword and a staff crossed over each other like skull and crossbones, all within a circle.

  When I looked up, he had already moved to one of the lines without a leader, with his golden dragon standing in front of the remaining one. I guess his dragon was intelligent enough to act autonomously, or was able to relay Mr. Blonde’s commands somehow.

  From the students’ left to right, it was ordered like this: The now healed patient, Mr. Bleach, the nurse, Mr. Blonde, and the Golden Dragon.

  I returned to stand at the back of Mr. Bleach’s line since it was the shortest. Coincidentally, my summoner was next to me at the end of the nurse’s line.

  He greeted me with syllables I didn’t understand, and I merely waved back.

  The lines started moving from left to right. The patient’s line went first. The front of the line looked like it was swallowed up by the depthless void as the rest followed through. When there were only 5 students visible, Mr. Bleach’s line started to follow close behind.

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  Like before, the nurse started following me and led her line. I guessed I wouldn’t be seeing my summoner until we reached the end of the tunnel.

  When we were deep in the tunnel, I heard Mr. Bleach shout something, and some students started producing small balls of flame, sizes ranging from golf balls to baseballs. The flickering of orange, yellowish light ahead of us told me the healed patient’s line had its students doing the same. I looked back and saw it was the same case for the nurse’s line. Although the number of students between each flame carrier wasn’t the same, the brightness throughout the tunnel was relatively even.

  We continued for a while until I realized something.

  Won’t we run out of oxygen?

  I had no idea of the tunnel’s length, so I couldn’t estimate how long we’d have to walk at this rate. Maybe we’ll be fine if we stay calm and maintain our pace, but that’s only an ideal what-if scenario. You can’t trust people to stay calm after magically sensing a hard-to-ignore storm.

  Ahead of us, the flickering lights of the flame suddenly disappeared. Sure enough, our pace started to slow down. Students were leaning against the walls of the tunnel. They looked lethargic, some even on the verge of sleeping. The nurse scooted past the crowd of still-standing students to check on the conditions of the fatigued.

  They were panting, gasping for air that was dwindling. The nurse borrowed someone with a small flame and brought that person from student to student, repeating the same series of questions.

  The big ball of flame was starting to shrink, and the student maintaining it was starting to show the same signs of fatigue and sleepiness. I turned around, and the group behind me was also starting to look antsy. It was only a matter of time before they too suffered the same fate.

  I heard shouting from the nurse’s group. The glow of their flames seemed to shift from brighter to dimmer in irregular intervals, not like the gradual death of a lit candle fire.

  Their movements started escalating, a look at how dangerous dense crowds could be. It reminded me of a few deaths I’ve heard about where the victims were trampled to death.

  The shouting escalated.

  Then the light vanished.

  The voices stopped.

  I was staring at a pitch-black abyss.

  Past life or not, I still had an instinctual fear of the dark. You can’t see anything but darkness.

  I liked seeing. I love seeing what humanity loves. I remember seeing what they hate. I look to explore curiosities and answers. Not being able to see that scares me a little.

  Fear overcame me, and I willed a glowing ball of light into existence.

  The ball I conjured instinctually was much brighter than any of the flames produced by students. Perhaps its brightness was proportional to how much I hated the dark at the moment.

  The squinting of nearby students told me it was too bright, so I dimmed it a little, still making it brighter than the light produced by the flames. I didn’t want to be responsible for making someone blind.

  The light showed me that I caught the attention of everyone I could see in the tunnel. Even the nurse seemed enamored by the ball of light.

  Umm…

  The nurse shook her head to recenter her focus on checking the conditions of students leaning against the tunnel walls. The students looking at me wore expressions that were a mix of wonder, curiosity, and suspicion. It was both relieving and unsettling. A small part of me wished for a moment like this, but I never thought past fleeting daydreams in moments like this.

  I blinked before copying the nurse’s headshake. This wasn’t the time to feel proud or nervous for showing off. We had an evacuation to commit to.

  I walked forward. Without any verbal command or hand sign, the students standing naturally parted, making a path for me. I held the levitating ball of light in my hand while making my way toward the front. The nurse shouted something, and I turned around to see her near the edge of the radius of my light. Right, she needs light too.

  I knelt and gave her a smaller levitating ball of light before standing up to go to the front, but she shouted again. When I turned around, the ball of light I had given her was gone.

  That’s weird. I didn’t imagine the ball of light disappearing. So why did it vanish?

  I looked at the ball of light floating above my hand.

  What made this ball different from the one that disappeared?

  The ball felt more real. Its existence felt heavier. It wasn’t a manifestation of “here’s a ball of light”, but a creation formed from the desire to banish the darkness agitating fear. The intent was heavier compared to the ball that disappeared.

  I focused on the ball of light before lifting it above my head, outside my field of vision. In my mind, I imagined the ball was still there. When I put less focus on it, the brightness lowered drastically, barely bright enough to see my arm. More shouts erupted from students.

  I put more focus on the ball, visualizing the same brightness I brought forth moments ago. That’s when I figured out an important aspect of my power.

  Visualizations requiring constant concentration and focus were more sensitive to vanishing than objects I created.