ShadowBound: The Need For Power

After the hall had fully settled, Assistant Headmistress Lucia Greydon walked toward the pulpit.

The movement was enough to sharpen the silence. Every second-year sat facing the elevated stage, watching as she approached with her magic clipboard held neatly in one hand. The academy board and instructors had taken their places behind and beside the pulpit, their presence making the hall feel less like a simple announcement and more like a judgment chamber dressed in polished wood and banners.

Lucia placed her clipboard against the pulpit’s surface, lifted her gaze toward the students, and offered a composed smile that did absolutely nothing to ease the pressure sitting in the room.

"Good morning, second-years," she said.

"Good morning, Assistant Headmistress," the students answered, some more confidently than others.

"It is good to see all of you again," Lucia continued. "As I told you last week, your Theory scores would be ready before your deployment. That day happens to be today."

The reaction was immediate, even if most students tried to keep it contained. A few shoulders stiffened. Someone near the back inhaled too sharply. One student looked down as if mentally preparing a funeral for his academic dignity. Another sat straighter, trying to look brave in the same way a person might stand tall before execution.

Lucia’s expression remained calm. "In addition to receiving your scores, you will also receive your final and more detailed briefing on the Bastion Assessment. That briefing will be delivered by Headmaster Thion himself."

That created another wave of attention.

Scores were terrifying, but the final briefing mattered in a different way. Theory results would bruise pride and rankings. The Bastion briefing would shape how they walked into Eldervale. Students shifted subtly, tension dividing itself between dread over numbers and anticipation over survival.

Lucia gave them a few seconds, then tapped her clipboard with two fingers.

"With that said," she continued, "it is time for you to see your Theory scores."

The hall entered a state of barely restrained emotional collapse.

Some students sat rigidly, faces blank with the sheer effort of not reacting too early. Others leaned forward despite themselves. A few looked away from the stage as if refusing to see the scores might delay their existence. Dylan placed a hand over his heart with theatrical reverence. Maxwell quietly muttered something that sounded like a prayer and an insult tangled together. Asher’s expression hardened into combat readiness, as though the scores themselves might step off the screen and challenge him.

Lucia tapped the clipboard again, then swiped upward.

A large magical screen appeared above the stage in a clean burst of blue light.

The screen widened until it stretched across most of the space behind the pulpit, bright and clear enough for every student to read. It was divided into several sections: Name, Core Myst, Magic Theory, Knight Combat Theory, Elective Theory, and Total Theory Score. Beneath the headings, the names of all second-year students appeared in ranked order, each row displaying the scores they had earned in their respective papers and the total score that placed them within the year’s Theory ranking.

For one breath, no one moved.

Then every student began searching at once.

Some started from the bottom, either out of fear or painful realism. Some scanned the middle first, hoping the academy had placed them somewhere respectable. Others searched from the top with the kind of confidence that either came from brilliance or delusion. The reactions unfolded all across the hall in different shapes.

One student found his name far lower than expected and immediately looked like someone had stolen several years from his life. Another found hers higher than expected and covered her mouth, eyes bright with relief. A boy near the side stared at his row, blinked, rubbed his eyes, then stared again as if the numbers might rearrange themselves out of pity.

Liam looked through the screen without hurry.

He found his name roughly where he had predicted it would be.

Seventeenth.

Not bad.

Better than first year, certainly. He read across his row with calm attention.

Liam Hunter — Core Myst: 73/100. Fire Magic Theory: 85/100. Knight Combat Theory: 91/100. Tactical Espionage Theory: 97/100. Total Theory Score: 346/400. Rank: 17.

His Core Myst score was exactly the sort of number he expected. Not terrible, not impressive, and clearly the thing dragging the total down. Fire Magic had gone well enough. Knight Combat Theory was strong, which made sense since practical combat structure came easier to him than abstract phrasing.

Tactical Espionage was his highest, unsurprisingly. A ninety-four from Seraphina and Kaine likely meant there were things they respected and things they were still annoyed by, which was probably the closest to praise that class offered without turning it into psychological harassment.

Liam was not bothered.

Seventeenth was useful. High enough to be respectable, low enough to avoid unnecessary celebration. He could live with that.

Beside him, Asher found his own name several moments later and immediately looked personally insulted by reality.

"Asher Hawthorne — Core Myst: 64/100. Fire Magic Theory: 82/100. Knight Combat Theory: 87/100. Combat Strategy Theory: 75/100. Total Theory Score: 308/400. Rank: 49."

Asher stared at the screen.

Then his mouth twisted.

"Forty-nine," he muttered, as if the number had crawled out of a sewer and touched him. "Trash. This whole thing is trash. Core Myst can rot. Combat Strategy can burn. Who even decided seventy-five was acceptable for that overcomplicated pile of words? And forty-nine? Forty-nine is a coward’s number."

Liam looked at him. "A number cannot be cowardly."

"This one is."

"You improved."

"I did not ask for encouragement."

"That was not encouragement."

"Good."

Two rows ahead, Maxwell had found his own row and looked more surprised than upset.

"Maxwell Samson — Core Myst: 61/100. Enhancement Theory: 79/100. Knight Combat Theory: 84/100. Forgemastery Theory: 81/100. Total Theory Score: 305/400. Rank: 52."

Maxwell stared at the numbers for a moment longer, then slowly leaned back.

"Huh," he said.

Dylan turned around in his seat with a grin. "That is the sound of a man shocked he survived."

"I did better than I thought," Maxwell said, still looking at the screen. "I actually did better than last year."

"Look at you," Dylan said. "Growing. Developing. Becoming almost academically presentable."

Maxwell’s pride lasted exactly two seconds before his eyes narrowed. "Almost?"

"Let us not rush greatness."

Several rows ahead, Charlotte had already found her name and smiled with the satisfaction of someone who accepted victory as her natural fragrance.

"Charlotte Raven — Core Myst: 78/100. Beast Magic Theory: 86/100. Knight Combat Theory: 84/100. Tactical Espionage Theory: 96/100. Total Theory Score: 344/400. Rank: 18."

Her smile widened when she noticed whose name sat directly above hers.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes glimmering with the kind of thought that should have been stopped before reaching speech. "Again?" she murmured. "Just beneath Liam in a theory test. The stars are clearly trying to tell me where I belong."

Ariana froze.

Sheila closed her eyes for a second.

Neither of them needed to ask what Charlotte meant, because Charlotte had made absolutely no effort to hide the direction of her thoughts. The secondhand embarrassment hit both girls at once. Ariana’s cheeks warmed faintly as she looked down at her hands, while Sheila pressed her lips together with the quiet patience of someone trying very hard to remain royal in the presence of shamelessness.

Charlotte seemed pleased by their suffering.

"You could simply say you did well," Sheila said softly.

Charlotte’s smile turned innocent in the least innocent way possible. "I did say that. Spiritually."

Ariana whispered, "That is not what spiritually means."

"It means many things if one is creative."

Sheila chose not to respond.

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