Alara was only vaguely aware of the stares and whispers that followed her out of the room as she trailed behind Jimena. The young woman didn’t even look at Alara as she led her down the hall.

This is it. This is when I get kicked out. She thought she would have felt more misery at the prospect, but as she followed after the woman in front of her, she just felt tired.

The walk to the councilrooms felt longer than normal. When they finally arrived. Jimena only gave a short knock on the door before opening it and leading Alara in. Before she could say anything, Jimena had disappeared back out the door.

The room was a large circle, the walls lined with woven tapestries of bright reds, teals, and pinks. A small fire burned in a hearth set against the rounded wall, the smoke drifting up and into the walls of the Haven. The circular Council’s table sat in the middle of the room, its surface a scattering of maps, books, and papers. Six chairs held the six councilmembers who were in the middle of a heated argument. A couple other seats sat a little away from the table and Alara wondered if she should sit. She wasn’t quite sure how long her shaky legs would keep her standing at this point.

“This is unacceptable.” One of the women at the table said, the wrinkles on her face deep with concern. Although they had never talked in person, Alara knew Senya Juanez was the oldest member of the Council in both age and tenure, and one of the three blameless that helped rule the realm.

“They are becoming a dangerous liability that needs to be stomped out if the Haven is to survive,” one of the men said—another blameless. His green eyes stared daggers at Emaru, who sat still and silent across from him.

Alara knew the members on the Council didn’t always fully agree with each other, but there was a tension in the room that she didn’t expect.

For centuries, the Council sat balanced with three mages and three blameless. As the original founders intended after the Bruya Wars, this forced them to compromise and find agreement among themselves, despite the bad blood that had once festered between those who held magia and those who didn’t. But as Alara stared at the six councilmembers before her, it didn’t feel like the bad blood resided only in the past.

She made eye contact with Jorye Molina, the third mage on the Council, who cleared his throat and gave a tight smile. “Our guest has arrived.”

Five other pair of eyes swiveled toward her and she felt her heart give a small lurch. A jumble of words and pleas formed in her head, a dozen arguments for why the Council should keep her on in the Haven.

“Alara,” Senya Cruz spoke. Until now she had been silently watching the exchange between the others.

Before should continue, however, Nile cut in sharply, “Your roommate Quenti appears to have gone missing. What do you know about this?”

Alara could taste copper on her tongue and she felt the blood rush from her head. Not what she was expecting. Her eyes flickered to Emaru who looked her impassively. The other six sat in silence.

“I—” she stuttered, “I have no idea. I haven’t seen her in a few days.” Emaru’s eyes were intense and dark; the three blameless scowled at her. Senya Cruz seemed to be wearing a smirk of satisfaction—she probably predicted that Alara would screw this up. “I haven’t been in the room a lot, and I just thought we kept missing each other. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me that you hadn’t seen her in a few days.” It wasn’t a question.

Alara felt sick.

“Clearly,” Senya Cruz cut in, “the child should not have been entrusted with this task. The decision to give her supervision of a feral new magite was a mistake.” This time the councilwoman cold eyes were directed at Emaru, who didn’t meet her gaze, but continued to glare at Alara.

“Did she run back home?” The other female blameless spoke this time—Senya Wila. Her eyes were bright and her voice smooth. “There is a precedent of new magites getting homesick.”

“We have reason to believe she was lured out of the Haven by bruyas,” Senya Manuel Ando, the third blameless, said.

“Bruyas…?” Alara tried to make sense of her thoughts. She couldn’t imagine Quenti being stupid or naive enough to get involved with bruyas. Then again, maybe she’d been foolishly brave enough to think she could use them to get back home. “Seems…stupid, doesn’t it? Even for her.”

All six eyes darted back to Alara.

“Sorry,” Alara said, her voice weak and her face red with anxiety. “I mean…Quenti seemed a bit brash. But to run off with the bruyas? Maybe she has just gone home.”

“We’ve sent messengers down to Hurazon to notify her father, but she hasn’t been seen on the Via Sura nor was she seen leaving the Haven. It’s doubtful she made this escape without some help—from bruyas or…” Senya Juanez let her words trail off.

Again, the eyes turned back to Alara.

“I don’t know where she is,” she said, probably more defensively than she intended. “She didn’t say anything. I…there was a girl she talked about from the neighboring village. She seemed important to her and she said she wasn’t at the Haven.”

Senya Molina pushed a map of the southern realm across the table at her, his eyes warm. Alara traced her finger along the Via Sura and found the marking for Hurazon. Just northeast of it was the village of Attalea. No other marked points on the map sat near the other town. Alara pressed a finger on the map at the scratched handwriting. “Attalea. It’s probably this one. I mean, I assume.”

No one said anything. Senya Molina looked at the map, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

“Perhaps we’ll have to check there then,” Emaru said, her eyes still focused on the magite as though she were trying to read her mind.

Alara had to reminder herself that the councilwoman wasn’t a mind-walker, but she still felt a shiver down her spine.

“Can I go?” Alara’s words were slow and soft, her eyes darting back toward the door. She just wanted to get away from the tension and have room to think about the fact that she had failed yet again—and at the simplest of tasks.

Emaru’s voice was sharp. “You’re going on the search.”

“What? Why? I already told you what I know.”

“Because you can use your mind-stalking skills to find Quenti again. Her mind is familiar to you and she likely will trust you more than us—assuming she has been brainwashed by the bruyas.”

“She didn’t trust me enough to tell me she was running away. I doubt she’ll trust me now.”

“Nonetheless, your mind-stalking skills are invaluable in this case. Even if the girl has just run off homesick, the road is dangerous alone. The sooner we find her, the better. For her own safety.”

“But I’m…” Alara hesitated, but slumped her shoulders in resignation. “I’m not even good at using my magia.” There was no point trying to pretend. If they didn’t kick her out for losing track of Quenti, they weren’t going to be forgiving about her magia any longer.

“You are walking a thin line at the Haven. This is a second chance to prove you can graduate and are eligible for the School of Protectors.”

“I need more time to practice,” Alara said. “I’m trying, I promise, but I just need more time. I’m not ready.” Her eyes were pleading now, but the only amount of warmth was from Jorye, whose eyes were slightly creased in pity.

Senya Cruz spoke this time. “Perhaps she is right. She’s uncontrolled, lacks precision in her magia skills, and likely will be of little use to any of us.”

“Alara,” Emaru said, her eyes focused on Senya Cruz, “can you please step out for a moment while we discuss some things.”

The frazzled magite rushed out without a second glance and leaned against the cool wood of the door as she closed it behind her, head spinning.

It seemed like an hour passed, although more likely it was only a few minutes, before the door opened and Emaru stepped out into the hallway.

“We’ve discussed the situation,” she said, “and I emphasized that obviously you have a choice in all of this. You do not need to come with us to search for Quenti.”

Alara let out the breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding and gave Emaru a look of pure relief.

“However…”

Shit.

“…before you go back to class, I want to show you something.”

Emaru’s face was soft, but Alara felt like she was about to step foot in a trap. Then again, there wasn’t much of a choice with the the woman staring down at her with that familiar frown of hers on her lips.

Alara finally nodded stiffly and let herself be led down the hallway. They wound though the Haven’s tunnels, toward Cielo. When they finally stepped out of the Haven, it took a second for Alara’s eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light that streamed unfiltered from the cloudless sky. The temperature rose at least twenty degrees as they made there way outside. It wasn’t even noon and the air was heavy with the heat of the day, evidence that the dry season was finally upon them.

As they stepped onto the street, Alara saw they were on the west side of Cielo on one of the lower terraces. The buildings here were old and squat. While many of the stone structures of Cielo were fitted together without mortar, carved perfectly for their purpose, the ones here were haphazardly balanced, mortar, moss, and mud slathered between the gaps. The streets of Cielo were almost always bustling at this time of day, yet here they were quiet. Only a few people wandered about or lurked in doorways, watching as they passed. The atomsphere had turned a bit fetid, the buildings pressing in on both sides. A single cart wouldn’t have fit along the street here.

“Do you know what happens to magites who do not succeed within the Haven?” Emaru’s voice was soft.

Alara shook her head. In all the time she had worried about failing out of the school, she had never wondered about what would happen after. Perhaps a part of her just thought it impossible that she might ever leave. Maybe she just imagined she’d move back into Emaru’s quarters and spend her days fighting with Adelmo in the stables, grooming the l’lamagas.

“They are outsiders. Neither mage nor blameless. Feared for their magia, lacking the control or strength to succeed as a part of the realm. Some try to return to their families and the villages they came from, but they are very rarely accepted back. Magia has proven itself dangerous and in turn, those who don’t learn how to control it are as well. For some, the magia—uncontrolled and untrained—leads them to madness. Those who survive long enough, usually end up here. Not a part of the Haven, not quite a part of Cielo. They beg, they work the fields, or find other means of making a living.”

She stopped in the shadow of the tallest building on the street. Alara stared at a woman who was leaning in the doorway. She wore the traditional mage tunic, but her legs were bare, the edge of the fabric hitting her well above the knees, a belt tightly fit around her waist. Its collar was cut low and her chest threatened to spill from it as she leaned over. The woman made eye contact with Alara and winked. Alara’s face flushed and she quickly looked away.

“I know I’ve been soft at times with you,” Emaru admitted. “I’ve indulged your passion for tactical fighting over building your magia and let things slip. But you must understand that I do care about you.” She put her hand on Alara’s shoulder, her light gray eyes looking into her own with a pleading softness. “This is your last chance to prove to the Council that you belong here. I can’t protect you anymore after this. If you truly want to become a councilguard, you need to prove to them that you can do this. After you’ve joined the ranks, you can swear off magia if you still want to.”

Alara look around again, avoiding the eyes of the woman still leaning in the doorway near them. Although she had always loved coming out to Cielo from the Haven and basking in the sunlight, she felt a dread settle in her gut standing on the streets. She wanted to help the realm. She wanted to fight for the realm. It’s all she had ever wanted since the day her parents had died. And now, she was about to lose it because of her own fears and stubbornness. She squared her shoulders and met Emaru’s eye with a fierce look.

“I’ll go. I’ll use my powers and I’ll bring Quenti back.”

Emaru gave Alara a large smile and briefly touched her cheek, just above Alara’s burns. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

They turned and Alara felt a wave of relief as they left the narrow streets of the slums, heading back toward the Haven. She had never felt so happy to feel the cool, wet air of the underground tunnels hit her face.

“Pack a few days’ worth of clothes and your weapons in case we meet any bruyas. You can meet us at Sura Gate tomorrow at sunrise.”

Alara stumbled a second, a jolt of panic seeping back into her body. She looked up at Emaru. “You’re coming too?”