"Argh... My head hurts. How long was I out?"

  Arlen groaned, clutching his forehead. His eyes squinted against the harsh white light of the infirmary ceiling.

  Before he could attempt to sit up, a weight slammed into his chest.

  "Arlen! You're awake!"

  Elira buried her face in his shoulder. She squeezed him so hard that the air left his lungs in a sharp wheeze. She was trembling.

  "Yeah... yeah, I'm awake," Arlen gasped, patting her back awkwardly with a stiff hand. "But if you keep squeezing, I might pass out again."

  Elira pulled back quickly, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry."

  "So... I'm alive," Arlen said, looking down at the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso. "I assume you didn't kill them? Because if I am in prison, the beds are surprisingly comfortable."

  "I didn't kill them," Elira said. A small, rare smile broke through her worry. "I challenged Marcelline to a duel."

  Arlen’s eyes went wide behind his cracked glasses. "You what?"

  "And I won."

  Elira recounted the fight. She told him about the arrows, the fire, and the Phoenix. Finally, she told him about the end.

  "The golden barrier... the one you modified," Elira said softly. "It took the hit. It shattered so I didn't have to."

  Arlen stared at her for a long moment. Then, he let out a laugh. It started as a chuckle, then turned into a full, relieved cackle.

  "It worked! I knew it! I knew you could do it!"

  "We did it," Elira corrected him.

  For the first time since coming to this hellish academy, the air didn't feel so heavy.

  Weeks passed.

  The bullying had stopped completely. When Elira walked down the hallways, the sea of students parted. They didn't look at her with mockery anymore. Their eyes looked at the floor with fear.

  In the library, Arlen was scribbling away, doing homework for both of them. Elira, meanwhile, was having a staring contest with a textbook.

  The book was winning.

  "Now that the bullying has stopped, what do you want to do from now on?" Arlen asked, not looking up from his parchment.

  "...I don't know," Elira mumbled, resting her chin on the table.

  "What do you mean you don't know?"

  "Well, you decide. You are the brain, after all."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Arlen stopped writing. He tapped his quill against his chin, leaving a small ink blot. "Then your goal is to learn more spells. Maybe Intermediate Elemental Theory."

  "No! I don't wanna!" Elira slammed her forehead onto the wood. "It is all gibberish to me! My head will explode."

  "Pfft... Hahaha." Arlen shook his head. "Then you should choose a goal for yourself. You have the talent, Elira. You just need a direction."

  Elira looked at him. She looked at the boy who had stood by her when everyone else spat on her. The boy who had almost died because of her.

  She made a decision.

  Later that afternoon, Elira and Arlen walked through the academy gardens. The autumn leaves fell around them, painting the ground in shades of orange and red.

  Elira stopped walking. Her face felt hot.

  "...Arlen."

  "Yeah?"

  "I have something to show you. But... you have to come to my room first."

  Arlen froze mid-step. His face turned a bright shade of crimson. "W-what?"

  "I am going to show you my Brand Magic." Elira looked down at her shoes, missing his reaction entirely. "But you have to keep it a secret, okay?"

  Arlen’s embarrassment vanished instantly, replaced by the intense curiosity of a scholar.

  "Your Brand Magic?" His eyes sparkled. "Absolutely. Let's go!"

  Inside Elira’s dorm room, the curtains were drawn tight.

  Arlen sat on a chair, leaning forward, waiting.

  Elira took a deep breath. She extended her hand.

  Focus.

  Don't let the monster out. Just a piece. A small, harmless piece.

  The air in the room grew heavy. A wet, squelching sound echoed in the silence.

  A small blob of flesh appeared on her palm. It wasn't light or energy. It was raw, red meat.

  It pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Slowly, it began to morph. It grew a torso. Then tiny, stubby limbs. Then a round head without a face. It was the size of a doll.

  It was the fruit of her countless hours of practice. She had shaped the horror into something small. Something manageable.

  Please don't freak out.

  Please don't run.

  The silence stretched on. To Elira, it felt like hours.

  She couldn't take it. She let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

  "It is disgusting, isn't it?"

  "It is... fascinating."

  Elira looked up.

  Arlen wasn't looking at her with disgust. He wasn't looking at the door. He was leaning forward, his nose inches from the creature.

  "Wow! So this is your magic?" Arlen whispered, his voice full of awe. "It created biomass from mana? No, that violates the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Is it summoning? Or transmutation?"

  "I... I can summon tentacles too," Elira stammered, confused by his reaction.

  Arlen reached out a finger. He poked the little creature’s belly.

  The creature jiggled.

  Elira’s heart almost jumped out of her chest. For a second, the image of Arlen covered in wounds and blood reappeared in her mind.

  "Don't touch it!" Elira pulled her hand back. "It is dangerous!"

  "Dangerous?" Arlen looked at her, then back at the creature, which was now waving its stubby arms. "Elira, everything is dangerous if you don't understand it. Fire burns, water drowns. But we study them so we can use them."

  He looked her in the eyes.

  "The more dangerous it is, the more you should study it. And... I can help."

  Elira stared at him.

  She waited for the punchline. She waited for him to call her a monster.

  But he just smiled, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.

  "So," Arlen clicked his pen. "Does it have a name?"

  Elira felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, a genuine smile forming on her face.

  "No. Not yet."