"Re-evaluation Project, codename 'Echo.'"
The words displayed on the conference room's projection screen, dense clauses and notes below. Six people sat around the oval table, all mid-level or higher Bureau officials. Examiner Miller sat at the end, a freshly printed report spread before him.
At the head sat a man in his sixties, hair completely white but neatly trimmed, gold-rimmed glasses on his face. Karl Vincent, Deputy Director of the Bureau's Education and Development Department, directly overseeing Academy affairs.
"So," Vincent adjusted his glasses, gaze sweeping the attendees. "We have a former Senior Enforcer, deceased for three years, miraculously returned, bearing an erased danger-brand, possibly memory-impaired, magically unstable, yet displaying control equivalent to at least A-rank last night."
"Between B+ and A-, based on field data analysis," someone from Technical interjected. "Rain manipulation precision extremely high, but energy fluctuations indicate unstable output with sudden drops."
"Exactly what we need to assess." Vincent nodded, turning to Miller. "Examination report conclusion?"
Miller cleared his throat. "Alicia Winter's story has multiple ambiguities, but the core—severe injury, amnesia, long-term isolated recovery—doesn't conflict with existing evidence. The medical station does exist; her physiological indicators show recent major trauma and long-term malnutrition. As for the magical brand's disappearance, likely caused by anti-magic backlash combined with some unknown ancient magical residue."
"Risk assessment?"
"Medium to high." Miller spoke cautiously. "She currently displays cooperative attitude, but the former danger marker cannot be completely ignored. More importantly, her timing—coinciding with a recent series of anomalous incidents within the Academy."
Someone shifted in the room.
"You believe there's connection?" Vincent asked.
"I don't speculate without basis." Miller said. "But too many coincidences warrant extra caution. Recommendation: incorporate her into Project 'Echo,' send her to the Academy for six months closed evaluation. Academy environment is controllable, allows observation while limiting external contact."
"Agreed." Security Department's representative spoke. "If she truly has issues, better handled at the Academy than in the city."
"And if she's clean?" a female official from Education asked. "A former Senior Enforcer with field experience, even diminished, is valuable. Project 'Echo' was designed precisely for such individuals—helping them readjust, recover, return to duty."
Vincent pondered a moment, fingers lightly tapping the table.
"Vote." he finally said. "Those in favor of incorporating Alicia Winter into Project 'Echo,' sending her to First City Magic Academy for six-month evaluation, raise hands."
Six hands went up.
Unanimous.
"Recorded." Vincent nodded to the secretary, then turned to Miller. "You notify her. Depart tomorrow morning. Academy has been alerted; they'll arrange a special observation team."
Miller nodded. "Understood."
Meeting adjourned, people filing out. As Miller organized documents, Vincent approached him.
"Off the record," the Deputy Director lowered his voice. "I don't like this. Dead returning, ancient brands, amnesiac commander... sounds like bad drama. But since it happened, we handle it. The Academy is your area, Miller."
"I'll ensure tight monitoring." Miller said.
"Not just monitoring." Vincent met his eyes. "I want the truth. About what really happened three years ago, why she returned, what she really remembers or doesn't. By any means necessary."
"Including?"
"Including all Academy resources." Vincent left a final sentence before turning away. "Including employing 'that student.'"
Miller's expression froze momentarily.
Then he nodded.
"Understood."
After the fourth meal in the examination room, the door opened.
This time only Miller entered. He carried no files, expression slightly more relaxed than before, but the scrutiny in his eyes unchanged.
"Decision's made." he said directly. "You're approved for Project 'Echo,' assigned to First City Magic Academy for six-month re-evaluation. Upon completion, reassignment based on assessment results."
Alicia stood from the bed. "When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning." Miller assessed her. "Academy will provide uniforms and necessities. Personal items—if any remain—can be requested from your old residence. Given your special circumstances, the Bureau will provide a basic stipend for essential purchases."
"What preparations do I need?"
"Mental preparation." Miller was blunt. "The Academy isn't as you remember from three years ago. Curriculum updated, faculty partially replaced, students mostly new generation. More importantly, Project 'Echo' participants have special status. You'll be observed, tested, judged by different standards. This isn't returning to school; it's another form of examination, just more... academic."
Alicia nodded. "Understood."
Miller paused, seeming to hesitate about his next words. Eventually he spoke: "The Academy will arrange an observation team for you. Superficially to help new students adapt, actually recording your every move. I suggest... cooperation."
"I will."
"Also." Miller took a small envelope from his pocket, placed it on the table. "Your temporary ID and initial clearance. Only basic areas and course materials accessible. Advanced zones and classified archives require gradual unlocking—if you pass assessment."
Alicia picked up the envelope, didn't open it immediately.
"Examiner Miller." she said suddenly. "Three years ago, were you involved in the post-mission investigation of 'Echo from the Abyss'?"
The room's air seemed to thicken.
Miller's expression didn't change, but his eyes deepened. "Why ask?"
"Just curious." Alicia's tone was flat. "A mission causing Senior Enforcer casualties should have thorough investigation. I wonder what the conclusion was."
"Conclusion: mission failure, cause categorized as accidental activation of unknown ancient magical artifact causing structural collapse and magical backlash." Miller recited fluidly. "All related archives sealed, clearance A+. You shouldn't ask, shouldn't think about it."
"And if I insist?"
"Your evaluation might fail on day one." Miller's voice cooled. "Remember, Alicia, you're not an Enforcer now. You're an observation subject. Curiosity is dangerous in this state."
They stared at each other several seconds.
Alicia looked away first. "Understood. Apologies."
Miller said nothing, turned to the door. Hand on the handle, he stopped.
"There's a student at the Academy." he didn't look back. "Evelyn Ross. She'll be part of your observation team. If you encounter... difficulties, you can approach her."
Then he opened the door and left.
Alicia remained standing, holding the thin envelope. Miller's last statement felt less like advice, more like a warning. Or a hint.
Evelyn Ross.
She memorized the name.
Then opened the envelope. Inside, a metal card, silver, intricate magical patterns along the edges. Front engraved with her name and temporary student number, back with Academy emblem: wand entwined with stars, small text below—"Knowledge and Power Walk Together."
Also a handwritten note:
"Tomorrow 8 AM, Underground Garage Sector 3. Travel light. No farewells needed."
She pocketed card and note, returned to bed. About twelve hours until morning; she needed rest, needed body and mind prepared.
The Academy.
She closed her eyes, letting memory-images surface: main building's towering spire, perpetually shrouded in mist; library's spiral staircase humming faintly underfoot; training ground's rune-embedded floor absorbing students' stray energy; cafeteria's ever-present herbal tea scent mixed with young mages' sweat and excitement.
But those were impressions from three years ago.
What was the Academy like now? What did Miller mean by "not as you remember"? Curriculum updates she understood; magic was a rapidly evolving field. But "students mostly new generation"—had all older students graduated? Or had the Academy undergone some... transition?
Too many questions, too few answers.
She stopped thinking, focused on breathing. Slow inhale, hold, slow exhale. Several cycles, heartbeat steadying, muscles relaxing, consciousness gradually sinking.
Sleep came faster than expected.
She dreamed.
Not memories, more fragmented: dark corridors, footsteps echoing in the distance, but she couldn't tell if chasing or being chased; glass shattering, countless fragments suspended mid-air, each reflecting a different face; and whispers, many overlapping whispers, indistinct but carrying urgency and warning.
Then a hand.
Reaching from darkness, grabbing her wrist.
The hand was cool, skin pale, nails neatly trimmed. Around the wrist, a thin silver chain with a small deep green gem.
She tried to look up at the hand's owner, but the dream began collapsing like a sandcastle meeting water.
Last thing in consciousness, a sentence spoken in a voice she recognized but hadn't heard in three years:
"You shouldn't have returned."
Alicia's eyes snapped open.
Room dark, only camera's red light pulsing regularly. She was drenched in cold sweat, heart pounding violently. Her wrist seemed to retain the dream-hand's touch—cool but grip tight.
She sat up, pulled back sleeve to check wrist.
No marks on skin.
Just a dream.
She got up, walked to the room's small bathroom, splashed cold water on her face. The mirror showed a pale face, faint shadows under eyes, the scar nearly invisible in dim light. She looked older than her years, but something in the eyes unchanged—that focus, that readiness for danger.
Training's brand, deeper than any on skin.
She dried her face with a towel, returned to bed. Still hours until dawn, but she knew sleep wouldn't come. So she sat cross-legged, began basic meditation exercises.
Magic users needed regular meditation to balance internal energy flow, cleanse contamination from external magic residue, stabilize mind. Alicia hadn't practiced systematically for three years, but the body remembered procedure: adjust breathing, sense internal energy nodes, guide circulation, filter impurities...
Initially difficult.
Energy like clogged waterways, flow sluggish, intermittent. She could feel those nodes—magical junctions throughout the body—some dim, some abnormally active like faulty streetlights flickering. Typical aftermath of long-term neglect and anti-magic backlash.
She patiently cleared bit by bit.
Start with simplest circulation: from heart node, down left arm to hand, back, through neck to right arm, return to heart. Small loop, low intensity, like rehabilitating a limb starting with finger movements.
First loop took nearly ten minutes.
Finished, left fingertips tingled slightly, like blood flow returning. Good sign.
She continued.
Second loop faster, seven minutes.
Third, five.
By fifth, circulation basically smooth, energy flow weak but stable. She felt dim nodes responding, like rusty machinery being oiled.
Then she attempted expanding loop scope.
From heart downward, through abdominal node, branching to legs, converging at feet before returning. Lower body circulation harder than upper, possibly because legs were injured in the collapse; physical wounds healed, but energy channels still damaged.
She slowed, guided carefully.
Time lost meaning in meditation. By the time she'd preliminarily cleared all major nodes, outside though unseen should be dawn.
Body felt lighter, mind clearer. The heaviness from long-term neglect lessened, though far from peak condition, at least no longer feeling like a rusted puppet.
Knock on the door.
"Ms. Winter, please prepare. Departure in thirty minutes."
She rose, final room check. Nothing to take, only the Bureau-provided casual wear—dark gray pants and shirt, plus jacket. She pocketed the temporary ID, waited.
Door opened precisely.
Two unfamiliar people this time, man and woman, both wearing Bureau Transportation uniforms. They didn't speak, just gestured to follow.
Through several corridors, elevator down to underground third level, past a double-verification security door, they reached a garage.
Not last night's garage; this larger, holding various vehicles from sedans to armored transports. Air smelled of gasoline and magical energy mixed, faint ozone scent—residue from high-intensity magical equipment operation.
"This way." the male staff pointed to a medium-sized van.
No Bureau markings on the vehicle, painted ordinary dark blue, looked commercial. But Alicia could sense multiple protective spells layered on the body—physical defense to magical shielding.
Rear door slid open.
Two people already inside.
One was Lila Thorne, last night's field commander. She'd changed to casual clothes—black pantsuit, light gray jacket, blonde hair still tightly bunned. Seeing Alicia, she merely nodded slightly.
The other a young man, early twenties, brown curly hair, glasses, looking down at a tablet. He wore Academy-style uniform: dark blue jacket, silver trim, small badge on collar.
"Get in." Lila said.
Alicia entered, sat opposite Lila. The young man looked up, adjusted glasses, offered a polite but distant smile.
"Daniel White, one of Project 'Echo' coordinators." he said, voice more mature than his appearance. "Assisting your transition to Academy life. I'll brief on project content and Academy status during the journey."
Doors closed, vehicle started, smoothly exiting garage.
Outside, city morning scenes flashed by: commuters, shops just opening, street cleaners. Ordinary, daily, magic-free world.
"First, welcome to Project 'Echo.'" Daniel opened a file on his tablet. "Full name: 'Long-Term Absent Magic User Readjustment and Ability Assessment Program,' jointly operated by Bureau Education and Development Department and First City Magic Academy. You're the seventh participant this year, and the only former Senior Enforcer."
Alicia nodded to show listening.
"Project duration six months, three phases." Daniel continued. "Phase One, basic assessment and adaptation, approximately one month. You'll undergo comprehensive magical ability testing, theoretical knowledge exam, psychological state evaluation. Simultaneously adapt to Academy environment and schedule."
"Phase Two, specialized training and mission simulation, four months. Based on Phase One results, design personalized training plan including but not limited to magical control enhancement, combat drills, teamwork. Simulated missions interspersed to assess performance under pressure."
"Phase Three, comprehensive assessment and position matching, final month. Based on five months' data, produce final assessment report, recommend suitable position direction. Possible outcomes include: return to original post low probability , adjusted position, extended evaluation, or... exit from magical use field."
Last said euphemistically, but meaning clear: if evaluation failed, she might be forced into retirement.
"Understood." Alicia said.
"Regarding Academy life." Daniel switched files. "You'll be categorized as 'Special Student,' meaning your schedule differs from ordinary students. Some courses solo instruction, some combined with upper years. Accommodation in special student dormitory sector, single room, basic monitoring—regulation, please understand."
"Monitoring includes?"
"Location tracking, magical fluctuation recording, public area behavior observation." Daniel recited fluently. "Private areas like bedroom and bathroom excluded. All data for assessment only, destroyed per regulations post-assessment."
Alicia offered no comment. Monitoring expected, perhaps even more lenient than anticipated—at least bedroom private. Suggested the Bureau viewed her more as "resource needing observation" than "danger needing confinement."
Vehicle left city limits, onto suburban highway. Outside scenery gradually shifted from buildings to trees and fields. Academy located northeast in hilly terrain, chosen reportedly due to ley line convergence favoring magical study and research.
"Academy's current Dean is Professor Elena Morris." Daniel continued. "She assumed position after you... left, previously head of Theoretical Magic Department. Vice Dean Alfred Chen handles daily operations. Your observation team comprises three members: one faculty, one senior student, and me as coordinator."
"Faculty is?"
"Professor Katherine Blair, ancient magical rune expert. Student is Evelyn Ross, fifth year, top-ranked in all subjects."
Evelyn Ross.
The name Miller mentioned.
Alicia's expression unchanged: "They volunteered for the observation team?"
Daniel paused. "Faculty assigned by Academy. Student... Evelyn applied voluntarily. She's interested in former Enforcer experience, considers it valuable learning opportunity."
"That's what she said?"
"Approximately verbatim." Daniel adjusted glasses. "Evelyn is that kind of... goal-oriented student. She rarely does meaningless things."
Vehicle turned onto a forest road. Trees tall and dense, sunlight dappling through leaves. Road surface changed from asphalt to smooth stone slabs, stone pillars at intervals along sides, complex runes carved on tops emitting soft glow.
Academy boundary markers.
Also part of the protective barrier.
Alicia felt the vehicle pass through an intangible barrier—slight resistance like passing through a water curtain, then air changed: fresher, magical concentration noticeably higher, energy flow perceptible even in breathing.
"We've entered Academy territory." Lila spoke for the first time. "From now, all magical use must comply with Academy regulations. Unauthorized spellcasting will be recorded and may trigger alarms."
She looked at Alicia. "Your temporary clearance permits basic practice, but any magic beyond basic level requires prior application. Understood?"
"Understood."
Vehicle continued several minutes, then trees suddenly parted, view opening wide.
First City Magic Academy unfolded before them.
Main building a majestic Gothic structure, dark gray stone, spire piercing clouds. Surrounded by over a dozen smaller ancillary buildings: library, laboratories, training halls, dormitories. Complex centered around a broad central plaza, huge fountain at center, water jets forming ever-shifting geometric patterns in air.
Beyond, training fields, herb gardens, magical creature enclosures, and a mist-shrouded forest—the Academy's practical zone, simulating various wilderness magical environments.
The entire Academy enveloped in a faint blue aura—the main protective barrier, normally invisible, detectable only by those with strong magical senses.
Compared to three years ago, appearance little changed.
But atmosphere different.
Alicia could feel it: energy flow in the air more active, also more... tense. As if the entire Academy in a state of high alert, surface calm but undercurrents turbulent.
Vehicle stopped before main building.
Daniel exited first, then Lila, finally Alicia. Academy quiet in early morning, only distant sounds of students' morning drills. Air cool, carrying grass and some magical herb scent.
Main doors opened, a middle-aged woman emerged.
Around fifty, black hair streaked with silver, simply styled low bun, wearing deep blue professor robes, frameless glasses on face. Expression serious but not severe, like a teacher strict but fair with students.
"Alicia Winter." she approached Alicia, extended hand. "Katherine Blair, faculty member of your observation team. Welcome to the Academy."
Alicia shook hands. Professor Blair's hand steady, palm with thin calluses from long-term writing and rune-drawing.
"Thank you, Professor."
"Commander Thorne will handle document transfer." Blair turned to Lila, the two stepping aside for low conversation. Daniel said to Alicia: "I'll take you to the dormitory first to settle, then campus tour, preliminary assessment this afternoon."
"Alright."
They headed toward dormitory sector. Passing central plaza, several students hurried by, carrying books or lab equipment. All wore Academy uniforms—dark blue jacket with silver trim, only slight badge variations by year. Seeing Alicia, some cast curious glances but none stopped or inquired.
"Special students' existence not secret but not publicized." Daniel explained. "Most students know of Project 'Echo,' but not specific participants. Recommend maintaining low profile, avoiding unnecessary attention."
"I will."
Dormitory building southeast corner, four-story structure, more modern than main building but matching style. Daniel led her to third floor, end of corridor.
Door marked "307-S," S for special.
He used clearance card to open.
Room much larger than examination room, more comfortable: single bed, desk, wardrobe, small sofa, private bathroom. Window faced Academy's rear herb garden, visible patches of magical plants glowing faintly in morning light. No visible monitoring devices on walls, but Alicia could sense faint magical fluctuations around room perimeter—probably monitoring barrier edges.
"Necessities in wardrobe, two uniforms, sizes should fit." Daniel said. "Basic toiletries in bathroom. I'll fetch you for lunch. Until then, rest or familiarize yourself. But don't leave this building—clearance restrictions."
He handed her a campus map and schedule.
"Green areas on map freely accessible, yellow require application, red prohibited. Schedule this week's preliminary arrangement, may adjust."
Alicia accepted. "Thank you."
Daniel nodded, turned to leave. At the door, he paused.
"One more thing." he didn't look back. "Evelyn Ross may proactively contact you. She's observation team member, authorized to approach for conversation or testing anytime. If she's... direct, please understand it's her style."
"What is her style?"
Daniel considered. "High efficiency, low social redundancy, almost obsessive dedication to magic. Some at the Academy call her 'machine,' but her grades and abilities are impeccable."
Then he left, door closing automatically.
Alicia placed map and schedule on desk, walked to window. In herb garden, several students in gardening robes tended plants, movements practiced. Distant training field, faint magical flashes visible—morning drills ongoing.
Calm surface.
But she knew that wasn't all.
Miller's warning, Daniel's hints, and the imminent Evelyn Ross... all pointing to one thing: internal Academy changes she didn't know about, and her placement here served both as observation subject and potentially observing eyes.
She turned to the room.
Simple, functional, no personal traces. Like a hotel room, temporary residence belonging to no one.
She took the temporary ID card from pocket, silver surface reflecting outside light. Name and student number both temporary, like her current identity—between dead and alive, Enforcer and student, past and present.
She placed the card on desk, walked to wardrobe.
Opened, two Academy uniforms hung neatly inside. Dark blue jacket, silver trim, Academy emblem embroidered left chest. Below, folded shirts, pants, underwear. All items new, tags still attached.
She took one set, placed on bed.
Then began changing.
Uniform fit perfectly, like tailored. Fabric special-made, slight magical resistance, could withstand low-level energy impacts. Dressed, she looked at her reflection.
Dark blue made her face paler, the scar barely visible at collar edge. She didn't look like a student, too mature, eyes holding things no Academy student should have. But the uniform provided a layer of disguise, at least superficially.
Knock on the door.
Light but clear.
Alicia turned. "Come in."
Door didn't open.
Knocked again.
She walked to door, looked through peephole.
A girl stood in the corridor.
About eighteen or nineteen, medium height, slender build, wearing Academy uniform but jacket open revealing white shirt inside. Deep gold hair in high ponytail, complexion pale, features exquisitely crafted like fine art. But most striking were her eyes—emerald, green, like deepest parts of early spring forest, clear but bottomless.
Girl held a tablet, expression calm, patiently waiting.
Alicia opened the door.
They faced each other.
Girl's gaze lingered on Alicia's face a second, swept over the scar, returned to eyes. Her expression showed no change—no curiosity, surprise, any common emotional reaction.
"Alicia Winter." she said, voice clear, tone even. "I'm Evelyn Ross. Your observation team member. Available now? I need to collect some baseline data."