“The results?” Lucian asked.
Through the expansive window of Dr. Ross’s office, Lucian could see the shimmering waters of Biscayne Bay intertwining with the canals that now defined Miami. After succumbing to the relentless rise of the sea, the city now resembled a latter-day Venice, its glimmering skyscrapers partially drowned by time and tide. In the distance, a spaceship pierced the serene sky, leaving a contrail as it ventured into the unknown. Lucian imagined himself aboard that ship, far away from the nightmare unfolding before him.
“The results are in,” Dr. Ross confirmed, her voice snapping him from his reverie. “I won’t sugarcoat it. We’re witnessing unmistakable signs of metaphysical emergence.”
The room seemed to shrink, the words echoing ominously. Lucian felt a surreal detachment, as if he were a spectator in this scene, not a protagonist.
“This must be a mistake,” his mother said, her voice laced with denial. “I’m his mother. I’ve never seen him act like . . . one of them.”
Dr. Ross shook her head. “There’s no mistake, Mrs. Abrantes. The dream analysis conducted yesterday revealed clear meta-energy signatures. It’s an early sign, and a significant one.”
Lucian could feel his mother’s gaze, probing, searching for some sign of denial in him. But he could only offer silence, his focus fixed on the desk before him.
“But the screen going black. . .” His mother was fishing for something, anything, to deny what Lucian already knew to be true.
“It’s a consistent marker of emerging abilities,” Dr. Ross explained calmly. “Though full manifestation hasn’t occurred, catching it early gives us a chance. Immediate intervention might delay the worst. Lucian needs to be enrolled in an Academy as soon as possible.”
A chilling realization crystallized within Lucian. The fabled tales of mages going mad with their powers were no longer just stories; they were reality. A future tainted with decay, loss, and a battle against an inner darkness that threatened to consume him from the inside out.
His mother and Dr. Ross turned their attention to him, their expressions a mix of pity and desperation. Lucian felt paralyzed, fear and disbelief rendering him speechless.
His mother’s voice broke through his daze. “There must be a cure, something to prevent this . . .”
Dr. Ross shook her head, her voice carrying a hint of sorrow. “Unfortunately, modern medicine has its limits. The only viable path is training at a League-sanctioned academy. It’s not an easy journey, but a necessary one.”
The discussion about travel logistics seemed to buzz around him, a distant hum as he grappled with the staggering reality. Lucian felt cornered, his dreams and aspirations slipping through his fingers like fine sand.
A thought then struck him. He knew it was grasping at straws, but he couldn’t help himself. “And what if I go it alone?”
Dr. Ross regarded him with sympathy. “Lucian, that’s not a viable option. The League has measures in place to track unregulated mages. Escaping their radar is impossible, and even if you manage to, the results could be catastrophic.”
There was no way out then. This was his reality. He was a mage, doomed to go mad and die from a power beyond all understanding. Beyond all reckoning.
The room closed in on him, the paths before him narrowing until there was but one path left. The path chosen for him. The path he had no say in.
He felt a surge of anger, a fierce rejection of the hand he had been dealt.
He suddenly stood. “I won’t have it.”
“Lucian?” his mother asked.
“I won’t have it!”
He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. He sprinted from the room, running as far as he could from the looming shadow that threatened to cover him . . .
