With a foot mounted on a piece of collapsed debris, Kliff closed his eyes and listened. There it was, the discordant thrum of Essence. Most mages went their entire lives without perceiving the odd frequency for themselves. Conversely, though, it took an especially talented sorcerer to detect it.

Every creature on the planet naturally produced this Signature; it was proof of their existence. In Ruenist texts, it was taught that a person's Essence constituted their soul. Kliff wasn't huge on religion or philosophy, but he could acknowledge its merit concerning Magic Theory. The amount of Essence a person possessed would ultimately determine whether they were a mage or a dullard; a most important distinction, indeed.

Kliff broke off his spot and bolted at a hastened pace down the narrow road ahead of him. In the past twenty minutes since he'd been beckoned into the pocket prison, Kliff had already gotten accustomed to the otherworldly surroundings.

Cracked walls consumed by violet-colored vines that spanned for miles and miles. A darkened sky, for in its lack of stars, compensated with ribbons of light. Shattered pillars and staircases that led nowhere. Kliff absorbed it all in, and it became normal.

He arrived at a fork in the road, each leading in a different direction that looked unequivocally the same. Kliff closed his eyes again and reached for where the infrequency was the loudest. The lesson that Autumn had taught him replayed: Hone in on the glimmer amidst the flood. Generally, Essence didn't produce a sound, but it radiated a unique sensation, one that rolled through its environment like the elegant waves of the sea.

Occasionally, however, there were anomalies that fractured the fluid anonymity of it all. Tears in a world's design. In his training, Kliff learned that these anomalies signified a Breach, that is, a split in the Realms of Existence that spirits and otherworldly entities used to infiltrate the Physical Realm. In this instance, it wasn't a spirit responsible; this anomaly was new.

Pocket prisons themselves were composed exclusively of magical energy, and so the anomaly obstructing it was akin to a crack in a glass window or a fissure in an otherwise perfect-paved street. A discordant note, a broken wand, a blight. The way out.

Guess that's why he called it Integrity's Rift, Kliff thought, smirking to himself. To escape, I'll need to track down where this labyrinth breaks.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Kliff darted down the empty corridor, billowing winds slamming into him with every rapid step. It took some adjusting, but Kliff eventually got used to his strange, enchanted uniform. Whatever enchantment was placed on it made the fabric loosen and tighten in accordance with his movement.

Regardless of the extent of damage it might endure—whether it be a minor tear in the fabric or a significant rip at the sleeve—the uniform would repair itself almost instantly. The surging thing didn't even grow damp from his sweat. This peculiar characteristic eliminated the necessity for regular washing, raising Kliff's curiosity about the reason each student was issued multiple pairs, but he nevertheless made it a point to care for it. He had his etiquette lessons to blame for that.

Five more minutes of his hastened jog and the path expanded into a diamond-shaped courtyard littered with collapsed debris, decrepit pieces of architecture Kliff couldn't accurately identify, and had been partially consumed by violet veins slithering across its surface.

Some of the walls were caved in, and Kliff caught a glimpse of the corridor on the other side. As he stepped over the remains of a crumbled pillar, Kliff's eyes sharpened as something flickered on the ground. Ice? Kliff advanced to it, a hand hovering over his wand holster. Yes, it was indeed ice.

Adeline must have passed through here, Kliff thought, glaring.

Details of his surroundings enhanced as he dedicated to them the appropriate amount of attention. Sheets of ice splattered over particular segments of the walls, and when Kliff concentrated hard enough, he could just faintly sense the Essence particles floating in the air. A battle had occurred here, but with what?

A scream echoed in the distance, followed by a high-pitched and famished screech. Kliff narrowed his gaze. He had suspected this test wouldn't be as straightforward as escaping a vacant maze. Their strict teacher must have filled the place with hindrances to compromise his progress. From the sounds of it, some of his classmates had already encountered a few.

It was funny. He'd been taught before that pocket prisons were so big that should fifty ordinary humans be placed inside of one, the odds of two people ever meeting one another were next to zero. Did this mean that Integrity's Rift wasn't as large as he'd originally discerned? Kliff sighed, banishing needless considerations. Adeline had already made it through here, and there was no telling how many students had reached the exit. He hadn't a moment to spare.

But another scream drew his attention elsewhere, one that was desperate. One that lured memories he'd tried many times before to destroy. The part of him—the part inspired by Ark Regaleo, the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived—longed to interfere. Longed to help, just as the responsibility of a sorcerer dictated. This was a test, however. And so he couldn't afford to fail.

So, you want to be like Ark, do you? Autumn chuckled inside the memory that replayed in his head.

That imaginary, young fool nodded eagerly. I do! He's my hero. When I grow up, I don't just want to be a Professional Sorcerer. I want to be as great a sorcerer as he was.

Hmm, an admirable goal, Little Flame, Autumn commended. But that road to be the greatest, it won't be a cakewalk.

I know...but if you agree to let me serve as your apprentice, then I know I can be just as strong as he was. Maybe even stronger!

Kliff cringed as he remembered himself making the idiotic declaration. His naivety back then was enough to elicit a gag.

It isn't only about strength, Kliff. Ark valued more than just magic power. What made him truly great was what he stood for. An Autumn that didn't exist pointed her finger directly at him. I can teach you how to temper your magic, your fire, but that won't make you a true sorcerer. If you want to be like him, intend on being made a legend, remember to value your honor more than anything.

Honor? Kliff often thought of it as a vague concept. If Autumn could see him now, she might be disappointed in his decision. And if she knew what he'd done, he figured she'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. He could help, couldn't he? He could do something to assist his fellow classmates. But Kliff steeled himself to the outside world, listening intently for where the Essence grew weak.

Something clicked behind him, and Kliff didn't bother to see what it was. Gulping for air, Kliff dove towards a nearby wall, just as an enormous claw crushed the spot he had been standing on seconds earlier.

Kliff rolled into a steady crouch, glaring at the plated creature as it hissed at him, a kind of clicking fizzle. Deathstalkers? he thought, analyzing the insect. He'd never seen one before, but just as their name implied, they were predators not to be crossed.

But he had a wand.

Swiping the Salamander Wand from out of its holster, Kliff pointed its tip at the monster and shouted, "Fire Magic: Ignax!" The heat whistled up the shaft of the wand, kissing the fingers of his dominant hand with a smolder. A bright, orange-colored light shone in front of him as a fireball launched out of the wand and hurtled towards the deathstalker.

It hit!

A bubbling explosion engulfed the creature with fire and smoke, causing it to flail its claws uncontrollably and stagger back on its insectoid legs.

In a duel, don't strive to impress or flaunt, Autumn reprimanded him. Do whatever you must to end it as quickly as possible.

"Always," Kliff muttered under his breath.

Most novice sorcerers these days could stand to learn that lesson. He wasn't like the rest of them. There wasn't a need for him to bolster his skills and reveal all the techniques he'd amassed over his years of training. They were resources that shouldn't be divulged to the common and untrustworthy eyes.

The deathstalker ground its mandibles together, clouds of foam bubbling out. It locked its abnormal amount of eyes directly onto him, and charged forth with its right claw extended. Kliff wouldn't allow it to reach him, however. Quickly, the boy engaged in a hopping retreat, pouncing from one spot to the next. Behind him, there was a discharge of magic, a spell fired from a wand.

Kliff glanced back to where he'd heard the distinctive noise, only to be met by the sight of a vein-infused wall. The deathstalker hissed at him again, thrusting its claw at a rapid speed. Kliff crouched to his knees and leaped away from it. Had he been a second late the deathstalker would have cut him in half, his torso cleaved from the rest of his body.

But his dodge hadn't been entirely flawless. The creature had snagged a piece of his uniform. That was fine, it would grow back in a few moments. The bruise that stung his waist, well, it'd heal by the end of class; no need to pester the Medical Mages.

Fritz! Kliff cursed.

That was a rookie mistake. He was getting sloppy, and now wasn't the time to fret over someone else's well-being. Kliff attempted to widen the gap between himself and his targe. Howeverr, this deathstalker was persistent, hurrying after him wherever he went. Like most sorcerers, he preferred to fight his foes from a distance.

Not only were most of his spells long-ranged, but the magic in which he specialized was dangerous, both to himself and whomever he was fighting. And so it was ideal for him to keep out of the area of effect, lest he accidentally wound up burning alive within an inferno of his own making. It wouldn't be the first time.

Fire was powerful. Fire terrified him.

The deathstalker lashed its tail at him with such speed that the overlong appendage appeared as little more than a darkened blur. Kliff lowered himself to the floor and slid across the dirt, his shoulder cape whizzing as the stinger barely missed stabbing him in the esophagus.

Kinetic energy pounced, and Kliff lunged into the air, assuming a solid stance several feet from the deathstalker. Pointing his wand at it again, Kliff launched a flurry of consecutive Ignax spells. And while each of the fireballs hit their mark, they failed at permanently subduing the beast; its armor was too tough.

I want to be strong, a younger voice whispered in his ear. But what if I duel someone that's stronger than me? What then?

Remember this, Little Flame, Autumn had once told him. A novice can still best the most powerful sorcerer in the world, should they succumb to anger or pride. Emotions are a dangerous element when it comes to casting magic. They could lead to a Rejection, they can lead to a mistake. Should you face an impossible entity to where using your spells is obsolete, count on your other weapons to get the job done.

My other weapons?

Strategy, Autumn smirked. A dullard with a brain shines brighter than a sorcerer lacking one. You have got a sharp mind. Use it to pinpoint your enemy's weak spots.

And what if they don't have any weak spots?

Kliff blushed as the memory arrived at its climax. Silly Kliff. Everybody's got a weak spot. All you need to do is find it.

There! The opportunity shone brightly in his eyes. Taking a step, Kliff thrust his wand and shouted, "Fire Magic: Igralus!"

A rope of orange light ignited out the head of his wand. It didn't fly as quickly as his Ignax spell, though that isn't to say it was entirely slow. Rather, the unorthodox beam of fire lashed for the deathstalker at a steady rate, slithering across the air like a fiery serpent.

It wasn't until the deathstalker attempted to grab it with a claw, however, that the ribbon of fire shot over its head and began flying in a ring, maintaining a height above the creature to where neither of its claws could reach it.

Sweat trailed down the sides of Kliff's face. Igralus wasn't necessarily a powerful spell, it didn't require that much Essence either. Although it was incredibly difficult to control. It demanded Kliff's complete concentration to get it to move as he wanted it to. But with the deathstalker distracted—repeatedly snapping at the ribbon with its claws in a hopeless attempt at snatching a light source—Kliff could taste the flavor of victory.

"It's time to end this," he grunted, amassing a puddle of Essence, feeling the magical energy rush through his veins. Twirling the wand overhead, Kliff whispered but only two words.

"Fire Magic: Orde Igna."

This was his most powerful spell, one that nearly vaporized his very existence. A bolt of crimson energy zigzagged from the tip of his wand kept on a collision course with the unsuspecting deathstalker having had its attention diverted and its stomach exposed.

A second passed; Kliff fortified his stance so that he wouldn't be blasted away by what was to come. Another second, the deathstalker, in a brief instance of hesitation, turned to face the spell fast, soaring for it. A final second and a thunderous explosion struck Kliff's eardrums.

An intense heat wave incinerated the air, rolling its scorched whirlwinds that easily tossed pillars and other pieces of debris. A bright orange light catalyzed, engulfing the entirety of the courtyard, creating ashes and shadows. The ground complained beneath his feet, fissures and cracks jetting over the earth like the crooked legs of a spider.

Jetting some twenty feet skyward erected a cloud of smoke, pouring over him like a titanic, smoggy mushroom. Yes, he could understand now why Autumn had refused to teach him this spell; it was power incarnate.

Before him, disintegrating inside a famished blaze was the corpse of the deathstalker. It tainted the smoky winds with a putrid sort of odor, one that Kliff was familiar with. The stench of burning flesh.

Kliff watched the fire have at its prey with a stilled expression. Maybe at some point when he was younger, he would have found the sight horrific or disturbing. Now, a soul being claimed by flames was nothing new. Sighing, Kliff gave the inferno his back and proceeded quietly towards the anomaly.

*

* *

Kliff materialized at the front of the classroom in a sharp burst of violet-colored light. Nobody else was present, save of course for their professor and his avian companion. This meant that he was indeed the first to arrive, the first to complete the test. But the boy wasn't too surprised by the outcome. His magic had been honed, and his skills whetted to a dependable blade.

As he slid his wand back into its holster, Kliff started for the closest desk. He probably wouldn't be permitted to leave until the rest of his classmates had finished the test themselves. And in spite of his accomplishment, there were no words of encouragement or compliments from Professor Marsh. Kliff took in his unreadable expression; it was the look of mild irritation. Disappointment.

"I must say, I'm impressed," Professor Marsh said, hands shoved in his cloak's pockets as he approached. "Any sane person would have tried to flee from a deathstalker, much less take one head-on in a fight. Although I have been informed that you excel at Fire Magic."

Kliff nodded to himself as Professor Marsh passed him. "The beasts are intimidating, but even a novice like me is capable of besting one, should they know where to strike."

"Ah, yes," Professor Marsh agreed. The deathstalker is well-armored, but its underside is vulnerable. First, you distracted the creature, exposing its weak point. Then it was only a matter of finishing it off with a powerful spell, yeah? It was a sound strategy, to say the least."

"I think you will come to find, professor," Kliff said with an air of confidence and pride, "just how strong of a sorcerer I can be."

"Yes, I suppose I will. For now, though," Professor Marsh replied, unimpressed, "I think the grade of B minus will suffice."

Kliff's eyes stretched open in a cold surprise, and he couldn't control the gasp flung out of his mouth. "Only...a B...?"

"Minus."

"But, sir!" Kliff loudly protested. "I located the exit without fail. I cleared any obstacles you threw at me. Not only that, I was the first to escape Integrity's Rift!"

"Yes, that is so."

"Even yet, my grade is so...so average?"

Kliff balled his fists at his sides. The flames inside of him grew like a fire gone mad. These emotions were dangerous to nurture in a duel. But this wasn't a duel, nor was it a matter concerning life and death. Kliff could justify his rage, the anger he used to scorch Professor Marsh inside of slitted vision. This man, was he purposefully trying to rile his fury?

"No...this can't be. I refuse to accept it!"

"I take it you're dissatisfied, then?" Professor Marsh turned to face him. The crow on his shoulder ruffled its feathers, letting loose a muted squawk or three. "And how would you evaluate your performance, Dresden? What grade do you think you deserve?"

"Perfect!" Kliff shouted. "A perfect score, that's what I'm owed!"

Professor Marsh chuckled to himself. "If you truly believe that, then you have much more growing to do."

Kliff hesitated. "Wh..what?"

"You were so caught up in escaping the pocket prison," Professor Marsh said drily, "that you failed to notice the real objective of this test."

"What objective?!"

Instead of answering him, the sorcerer turned to glance at the numerous, flickering magiscreens hovering in the air, upon each displaying a different student inside of the pocket prison. All in real-time.

Silence stilled him as Kliff began to reconsider. Had he truly missed a vital aspect of the test? Was there a hidden factor he hadn't accounted for? No, plainly that was the case. He'd been so motivated to escape the Sunken Labyrinth that he didn't even pause to think if there could be another goal to be realized.

"Take a seat and watch, Dresden," Professor Marsh told him, not taking his eyes off the floating screens. "For now, let's see how your classmates fare."

Kliff settled himself at a desk, gazing up at the flickering magiscreens above. Perhaps his classmates could excavate the answer he was too blind to see.