We walked in an orderly line, organized by class and rank, seniors nearest the front and juniors bringing up the rear.

The procession of academs was accompanied by no less than fifty mages. I suspected many of them were members of the rumored Hall of Lords, but didn’t have anything to go on besides the authoritative presence I felt in each of them. No matter where they hailed from, however, it was clear their allegiances lay with Magisterium’s ruling body, and they were powerful indeed.

To my surprise and delight, our group had come through the ranking matches intact, but they all looked worse for wear— not that I looked much better. My arm still hung at my side, useless, but the pins-and-needles I felt dispersed the mounting anxiety I had felt. Rogue was so out of sorts that she’d allowed Rathlin to take some of her weight on his shoulder.

Frank had returned to his usual, lazy self, Rocket had regained the fiery confidence of someone with muscle than brain, and Nadia was a cooly dismissive as ever. Their masks— for that was what they were— had slipped back in place, but I could tell the trio was weary beyond measure. For that matter, as I looked around at the plodding mass of students, it was clear the ranking matches had taken quite a toll on all the academs.

The mages herded us through the Academy like sheepdogs, poking and prodding those that didn’t keep up or otherwise slowed down the procession. Bored at our slow progress, my mind wandered. To me, it suddenly seemed that we had arrived at the Victorian-styled building in the blink of an eye. Despite the outwardly-appealing nature of the structure, I felt a growing sense of unease about our supposed ascension.

Where had the official said we were bound? Some other sector, I was sure… but I was hazy on the details. Then it came to me. “Anyone heard of the colorless sector?” I asked, perturbed. I would have voiced my concerns earlier, but everyone had the same slack-jawed, dead-eyed look that made it seem like nothing would have gotten through to them. If we were on our way to another sector— a sector that I suspected didn’t exist, not officially anyways— why were we being corralled in some lonesome building at the edge of the Academy?

“Nah, why? I hear they're taking us to hallowed ground to receive a special commendation from the Headmaster.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard—”

“You’re all wrong. We’re going to be sworn in as mages by the Hall of Lords.”

“Quiet in the back rank!” barked a rheumy-eyed old mage with a mouthful of crooked teeth, yellowed with age.

My anxiety, which had been for the most part dispersed as the strength in my left arm gradually returned, returned with a vengeance. How could so few people be telling such drastically different stories? I didn’t see how they could have held such conflicting views— unless it was intentional. I swallowed back a harsh retort and started panicking in earnest. The mages looked less and less like an honor guard and more and more like a prison detail.

I discreetly attracted the attention of the half-dozen academs that had, by necessity, become unto a family unit in the past few months. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat the truth: I didn’t much care for Rocket, Stein, or Nadia, but in the months we’d spent in close quarters, attending the same lectures and lessons and living, for all practical purposes, the same life, they had become the closest thing to family that I’d ever had. And from what I’d read on the subject and observed for myself in the years I’d been enslaved to the Matriarch’s will, families didn’t always get along— more than that, it was common that they didn't get along at all at the best of times— but they stuck together in times of crisis.

“I have reason to believe we’re headed into trouble.”

“Trouble? What trouble could we possibly find when we’re about to join the upper echelons of society? All doors will soon be open to us, and when we gain new privileges to match our new rank, no one would dare bar our way,” Nadia whispered fiercely, and I balked at her sudden ferocity.

My proclamation had little to no effect on the remainder of my so-called family. Rogue was too drained to voice a reply, and it was all Rathlin could do to keep her upright. With my two closest confidants so disposed, I faced a firing brigade of disbelief. The words I had prepared to bring the situation to light died in my mouth.

Rocket laughed sardonically. “With the powers that we now command, what troubles could touch us?” came his scathing reply.

“So much for that tact!” Nyx said amusedly. “Well, there’s no point in speculating, not at this juncture. Look here, everything is sure to come to light now that the honorable Headmaster has deigned to join us.” My shadow wriggled and formed a sharp point.

I directed my attention to the place Nyx had specified. For the past ten-fifteen minutes, our escort of mages had left us to our own devices. Academs milled about unconcerned. Those with the strength to move without prodding were laughing amongst themselves, while the vast majority looked much subdued. Scores had fallen prostate, still more were sleeping standing up.

Headmaster Alfarian roused the undead horde with a booming thunderclap that had every last one of us standing rigidly upright and at attention. I chewed my fingernails nervously and awaited his pleasure while he surveyed the sorry lot of academs that had won the distinct honor of standing in his presence.

The Headmaster raised his liver-spotted hands. His commanding aura enveloped the academs and pressed down on us. “Like those that preceded you in months, years, decades past— you have proven that you are more than beings of circumstance born to power, but are possessed of swiftness of mind and strength of will that will aid in securing Magisterium’s rise for generations to come.” His proclamation was met by dead silence, then raucous, roaring approval. Even the least energetic of the bunch found they possessed a newfound reserve of energy that enabled them to add their hoarse voices to the cheer.

“Henceforth you will join the ranks of the elite, the powerful, the few entrusted with the secret knowledge of Magisterium. When you walk through this door, you too shall become a touchstone of society, which without the Kingdom of Magic would cease to function. I do hope you appreciate the great honor of your new roles. Do not be deterred by the unknown! March forth with the knowledge that you are joining the ranks of the powerful, that you have become, in a word, indispensable.” Headmaster Alfarian let his hands drop, stepped aside, and nodded sagely at our jittery honor guard.

Academs shuddered with ecstasy at the high praise. The excitement was too much for some, who fell in a heap, unconscious. With zeal approaching religious fervor, still others bowed and scraped at the Headmaster’s feet. Whether they ran, stumbled, crawled, or were dragged by their companions, the academs rushed the building— which, on further inspection, was possessed of more Gothic qualities than its Victorian counterpart.

I was pulled along by the flood of academs, who had, in truth, become little more than a mob. They pushed, shoved, and otherwise crowded into the bottlenecked entrance to the grand structure, a huge arched entryway. The first ranks passed through at a magnanimous wave of the Headmaster’s hand, ushered in by the pressure of the middle ranks, who were in turn pushed relentlessly forward by those in the rear.

I struggled and flailed in an attempt to break loose of the heaving mass of humanity, but it was like fighting the receding tide: you might slow its onset, but it could not be stopped. I pressed my lips together and looked for a way out— there was none, and I decided it was in my best interest to conserve my energy— I had the feeling I’d be needing every last ounce of my strength for what was to come. Battered and bruised from my efforts, I allowed myself to be swept up by the unrelenting tide.

As I rammed through the bottleneck, my perceptions expanded and the progression of time shuddered to a near-stop. I looked left. I looked right. I realized the columns I saw to either side had the same look as the crumbling columns in the Chamber of Trials. With dawning horror, I looked up at the archway that connected the portal.

In that instant of time that stretched on and on, I connected the dots like a four-year-old attempting his first drawing.

The Academy, despite its name, had never been much for academics. Our acceptance had been conditional on whether we could strengthen our bodies sufficiently and call upon our magic in a time of crisis. We hadn’t learned a whole lot of magic theory, and the majority of our practical lessons had revolved around learning how to summon our power, but not wield it.

Had the ranking matches been nothing more than a clever ploy to root out the Academy’s most advanced students? For what purpose was Magisterium nurturing potential mages? On the day I’d submitted my application for citizenship, there had been thousands of other hopefuls vying for the highest reaches of the wondrous society.

“Come on, kid. You know the answer to that.”

A sinking feeling in my gut told me I did know the answer, but I wanted to be sure. “Can I have a hint?”

Nyx’s disapproval was palpable. “Think back, think back to the beginning. What’s missing?” he stressed the last word.

Missing? Missing! That was it, that was the key!

I remembered the disappearances. As raw recruits, we’d been told that we had the right to quit the program at any time, and although the groups cycled through training constantly, plenty washed out. In the Chamber of Trials alone, around fifty had been lost, never to be seen or heard from again. And… I wasn’t certain, but during the first two blackouts, which hadn’t even seemed worth mentioning, I stopped seeing familiar faces on my jaunts to other sectors or lessons held on Academy grounds.

The most recent blackout was my first opportunity to see the Academy represented, and there had been thousands, but who was to say it had been represented in its entirety? I was part of an isolated six-person group led by a wizened old mage that hadn’t graced the Academy grounds in decades. What if the nervous tension I sensed had been more than fear borne of a lack of security, rather that it had been a manifestation of the growing dread in academs that had discovered that not all was as it seemed?

Nyx sighed heavily. “You fail to remember the blow you struck against Absentia.”

I… it hadn’t been intentional— I was just trying to save my own skin— but I might have hobbled Absentia during my escape from the gray world.

“Think. How could Magisterium benefit by training half-baked mages? What does the City of Wonders rely on more than anything else?”

I blinked. From the simplest daily chore to the most complex mechanics, Magisterium would cease to function without a continuous and massive influx of anima. As evidenced by the blackout I’d experienced in Rose District, the Kingdom of Magic was no magical wonderland when its reserves ran low.

“That’s right you dunce— magic. The average citizen might believe a simple energy tax could be levied across the population with little to no adverse effects… even foreign mages would be fooled, as there’s no way to ascertain the feasibility of the system without knowing the total population of the city.”

By the time I comprehended Magisterium’s true nature, I had already fallen prey to the city’s most enticing honeypot. The Kingdom of Magic required massive amounts of anima to maintain its many functions, and latent mages were the perfect fuel for the proverbial fire. I finally understood how dire my predicament was, and it was too late.

The crystallized moment shattered as I was pushed from behind into the dark underbelly of the Kingdom of Magic: the colorless sector.