We had earned our commendations. One week of service to the five branches—Rain-Scribes, Tempest-Sun, Cascade Bearers, Emerald Boughs, Uzunjati—and we stood on the stage to receive our reward. A simple thing. A recognition. A door opening to the real studies ahead. The gremlins had other plans. They came out of nowhere like a tide of spite, small and twisted and buzzing with the particular malice that only the First World’s rejects can muster. I reached for my magic—reached for the Silent Chord’s power, for the Fey Apparition’s tricks, for anything— And something struck me. I remember flying. Not the graceful flight of a bird or the levitation of a spell, but the brutal, bone-jarring flight of a body that has been thrown. Then darkness. Then the cold stone of the floor against my cheek. When I woke, the gremlins were gone. Neutralized. My companions stood over me, weary and bloodied but alive. Tewodros had fought like a storm. Nasha had been a force of nature. Ixy had spoken words of power that cut deeper than any blade. I had lain insensate on the ground, useless. The teachers arrived moments later, their faces a thunderhead of frustration. Not at us—at the insult. The gremlins had no cause, no grievance, no reason beyond a pure, irrational hatred for the Magaambya. They simply wanted to ruin something beautiful. The ceremony was delayed. Another day of waiting. I sit now in my room. Belesh is quiet, as if she senses my mood. My ribs ache where I struck the stone. My pride aches more. I have spent my life learning to be present, to tend, to listen. In a fight, those skills are worthless. I was a midwife on a battlefield. I tried to reach for power and was met with darkness before I could grasp it. The Fey Apparition hums within me, amused, I think. It enjoyed the chaos. It fed on the gremlins’ spite. It does not care that I failed—only that it had something to taste. The Silent Chord, as always, says nothing. Tomorrow, we will have our commendations. The gremlins will not return, or if they do, we will be ready. But I learned something today. A hard truth. Sometimes the universe does not want a midwife. Sometimes it does not want harmony or listening or patient warmth. Sometimes it wants a warrior, and I am not yet that. I must become more than what I was.
Lesson Learned: The Academy will not only ask me to heal and tend. It will ask me to fight. I cannot afford to fall at the first blow.
Belesh Note: She let me hold her for a long time after I woke. Small comforts matter. I will not forget that either.