Dual Rebirth: Vengeance of the Discarded Daughter

High above the inner courtyard, in the top floor of the central black tower, Archmage Gallagher Vargas poured amber liquor into a dirty glass. The sharp smell of alcohol filled the messy office.

On his desk, a monitoring crystal linked to the Gauntlet of Will suddenly flared bright red. Then, with a sharp ping, it split perfectly in half, the light dying instantly.

Gallagher stopped pouring. The liquor overflowed, spilling over his knuckles and pooling on the wooden desk.

His cloudy, bloodshot eyes snapped to the broken crystal. The lazy posture vanished.

The heavy oak door to his office swung open. Eleonora Frye, his second-in-command, walked in. Her usually stoic face was pale.

"The Gauntlet's energy reserves," Eleonora said, her voice shaking slightly. "They just flatlined. Completely drained."

Gallagher didn't answer. He dropped the bottle on the desk and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the silver doors of the Gauntlet exit far below.

Eleonora looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "The transit time... it was exactly ten breaths."

Gallagher spun around. His boots scraped hard against the stone floor.

Ten breaths. That didn't just break logic. It tied the all-time record set by Julian Savage, the Order's most terrifying prodigy.

"Give me the file," Gallagher demanded, holding out his hand.

Eleonora handed him the crumpled transfer writ Pip had sent up via the pneumatic tubes.

Gallagher stared at the name. Alina Padilla. He looked at the classification. Prismatic Dud.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Gallagher's scarred face. He let out a low chuckle.

"Those old fools at Silvercrest," Gallagher muttered, tapping the paper. "They had a monster living in their house and they thought it was a stray dog."

"Should I have the Enforcers escort her to the Inner Ring?" Eleonora asked, stepping forward. "A talent like this needs immediate protection and resources."

Gallagher's smile vanished. His eyes turned cold and calculating.

"No."

He walked back to his desk, grabbed a quill, and dipped it in red ink. He crossed out the section labeled 'Inner Ring Assignment' with a violent slash.

In thick, heavy letters, he wrote: Menial Ward.

Eleonora gasped. "Archmage, you can't be serious. Putting a record-breaking prodigy in the Menial Ward? They scrub floors and clean beast pens. The bullying there is lethal."

"If she breaks from a few peasants throwing mud, she isn't the blade I need," Gallagher said coldly. He stamped the paper with his official seal. "Send it down."

Down in the courtyard, Alina stood calmly in front of the silver doors.

A group of inner disciples stared at her like she was a ghost.

A young disciple with a clipboard stepped forward, his hands shaking so hard the paper rattled. "N-name?"

"Alina Padilla," she said. Her voice was steady, giving away absolutely nothing.

A mechanical brass bird dropped from the sky, landing heavily on the disciple's table. It spat a rolled-up piece of paper from its beak.

The disciple unrolled it. He saw the Archmage's red seal. He read the assignment.

The fear in his eyes instantly evaporated, replaced by deep confusion, and then, a mocking smirk.

"Well, Padilla," the disciple said loudly, making sure the crowd heard. "Looks like you're assigned to the Menial Ward."

The courtyard erupted into whispers.

"Menial Ward? But she survived the Gauntlet."

"The Gauntlet must have malfunctioned. Look at her, she doesn't even have a wand."

"Bullshit," another apprentice scoffed, wiping down a table. "She's a Prismatic Dud. The Padillas must have given her some priceless, illegal family artifact to survive in there. The Archmage probably saw right through her pathetic trick and threw her in the Menial Ward out of sheer disgust."

Alina heard the insults. Her heart rate didn't spike. Her face remained a perfect, blank mask.

She understood exactly what was happening. Gallagher Vargas was a paranoid lunatic. He was testing her.

She didn't scream about injustice. She didn't demand to see the Archmage.

She reached out, took the assignment paper from the smirking disciple, and looked at him.

"Which way?" Alina asked.

The disciple's smirk faltered. Her extreme calm made him incredibly uncomfortable. He pointed a shaking finger toward a dark, descending staircase in the corner of the courtyard.

Alina adjusted the strap of her bag and walked toward the stairs.

Up in the tower, Gallagher watched her through a spyglass spell. He saw her walk away without a single complaint.

He threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. He slammed his hand on the window frame.

"She didn't even blink!" Gallagher shouted, turning to Eleonora. "She knows I'm watching. She knows it's a game, and she just called my bluff. I love her already."

Eleonora looked at the Archmage, then back out the window. A deep sense of dread settled in her stomach.

Alina disappeared into the shadows of the staircase, heading straight into the worst hellhole in Aethelgard.