Chapter 2

Brandi Ratcliff descended the spiral staircase and walked down the long, drafty corridor until she reached her dormitory.

She pushed the door open. The room was exactly as she remembered it-neat, filled with books, and completely suffocating. She looked at the familiar furniture, feeling absolutely nothing in her chest.

She walked straight to her bed and picked up the high-grade space bag resting on her pillow. It had the silver peak crest embroidered on the front. She had won it in a tournament, bleeding for this academy.

Heavy, rushed footsteps echoed in the hallway.

A squad of academy enforcers shoved their way into her room, blocking the doorway. They were acting on Obadiah's direct orders.

The captain of the enforcers stepped forward. His face was a mask of rigid authority.

"Hand over all academy property," the captain barked. "By the Dean's direct order, that includes your identification badge, the uniform on your back, and the Silver Peak space bag you won in the tournament."

Brandi let out a short, cold laugh. She reached up and unfastened the silver clasps of her elite academy robe. She shrugged it off her shoulders and let the heavy fabric drop to the wooden floorboards.

Underneath, she wore a simple linen shirt and a pair of worn riding pants. She had bought them with her own money in the town at the base of the mountain. They belonged to her.

The captain frowned, his eyes dropping to the space bag in her hand. He held out his palm. "The bag. Now."

Brandi didn't hesitate. She tipped the bag upside down over her mattress.

Several vials of precious mana recovery potions, three advanced rune manuals, and a handful of glowing Mana Crystals spilled out, clattering against each other.

Greed flashed in the captain's eyes. He quickly scooped the items into his arms, then snatched the empty space bag right out of Brandi's hand. His greedy gaze briefly swept over her form, pausing for a fraction of a second on the hilt of a worthless, rusty iron dagger tucked into her boot. He sneered, completely dismissing the piece of junk in favor of the glowing crystals in his arms.

Brandi dusted off her palms. She turned toward the door, ready to leave.

Two enforcers crossed their long spears in front of her, blocking her exit.

"We need to search you," the captain said, his eyes narrowing. "To ensure you haven't swallowed any micro-storage rings."

Brandi's blood ran cold. Her eyes darkened.

She raised her right hand. Instantly, a highly compressed ball of fire ignited at the tip of her index finger. The heat was so intense it warped the air in the small room, making the edges of the enforcers' faces look wavy and distorted.

Her magic circuits were damaged, but her past-life combat experience allowed her to manipulate mana with terrifying precision.

The two enforcers holding the spears stumbled backward, the intense heat searing their skin. Fear widened their eyes. Their hands shook violently around the wooden shafts of their weapons.

The captain swallowed hard, taking a step back. He knew a compressed fireball like that could blow a hole straight through his chest.

"Get out of here," the captain yelled, trying to sound authoritative while his voice cracked. He signaled his men, and they scrambled out of the room, eager to divide the stolen loot.

Brandi extinguished the flame. She walked out of the dormitory and stepped into the wide, open courtyard of the academy.

Hundreds of students stopped and stared. Whispers hissed through the cold air. Some pointed at her plain linen shirt, mocking her for crossing Seraphina. Others just watched with cold, indifferent eyes.

Brandi kept her chin up. She didn't look at a single one of them. She walked with steady, measured steps until she passed through the towering iron gates of Silver Peak Academy.

She stood at the crossroads outside the walls. The biting wind sliced through her thin linen shirt, raising goosebumps on her arms. She shivered.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers brushed against three rusty copper coins. It wasn't even enough to buy a stale piece of bread in the town below, let alone a room for the night.

She lifted her head and looked toward the jagged, dark peaks of the Magical Beast Mountain Range in the distance. Heavy grey clouds hung over the trees. It was a death trap for a weakened mage, but it was also the only place where she could find unclaimed resources.

Without a second thought, she turned her back on the safe, paved road to the town and stepped onto the dirt path leading into the mountains.

The moment she crossed the tree line, the sunlight vanished, blocked by the thick canopy of leaves. The low, guttural growl of an unseen beast echoed through the damp air. The atmosphere grew instantly heavy, pressing down on her chest.

She slowed her pace. Her eyes scanned the underbrush, using her past-life knowledge to avoid patches of toxic moss. She needed to find a cave before nightfall.

She trekked through the dense, unforgiving woods for what felt like half the day. Her thin shoes sank into the mud, and her muscles ached with every step. She had narrowly dodged two low-tier shadow-wolves by hiding in a hollow log, holding her breath until her lungs burned, and managed to forage only a few miserable, low-value bitter-root herbs. Just as the crushing weight of despair began to settle over her, the sharp, metallic scent of blood hit her nose.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

She crouched down. Smeared across the dead leaves was a trail of fresh blood. It wasn't red. It was a dark, sickly purple.

Purple blood meant someone had been poisoned by a high-tier magical beast, or they were suffering from dark magic backlash.

Brandi had no intention of playing savior, but her instincts told her a dead mage might have a pouch of crystals left behind.

She reached into her boot and pulled out a rusty dagger-the only weapon the enforcers hadn't found. Keeping her breathing shallow, she followed the purple stains deeper into the thick, thorny bushes.