Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 3rd of Brightforge, year 315 UC
The blood wouldn't stop.
Bryan pinched the bridge of his nose, applying pressure to stop the bleed. The blood ran freely between his fingers, dripping onto the observation deck floor.
One drop. Two. Three.
"Hey."
Christopher stepped forward, hand outstretched.
"You okay?"
Bryan jerked backward, knocking Christopher's hand away.
"Don't touch me."
Blood spattered across his uniform sleeve.
"No, he's not okay."
Farrah said firmly, crossing her arms.
"This is the second time this has happened. Yesterday during our duel, and now today. Something is clearly wrong."
Alexander moved closer.
"You should go to the medical ward. There's no need to push yourself like this."
"It's nothing."
Bryan said flatly, though the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as it trickled down the back of his throat.
'I'm not weak. I don't need their help. This is nothing.'
He turned away from Alexander's concerned gaze, unwilling to let anyone see even a flicker of weakness.
He focused on the blood that continued to flow. This was his blood—he should be able to control it, manipulate it like any other. He concentrated, willing the flow to stop.
Nothing happened.
The blood continued to drip.
This wasn't right. His magic had never failed him before—not with his own blood.
"That's it."
Farrah stepped forward, her patience visibly thinning.
"You need medical attention. Now."
"I said I'm fine."
Bryan repeated, his voice rising despite the blood now dripping onto his collar.
Sabrina threw her hands up in frustration.
"Are you kidding me? You're literally bleeding all over the place! And that doesn't look like a normal nose bleed with how much you're leaking."
"Back off."
Bryan warned, taking a step backward.
Christopher reached out instinctively toward him.
"Whoa, man—"
Bryan jerked away.
"I told you not to touch me!"
"This is ridiculous."
Alexander said, his voice rising.
"We're not asking, Bryan. You're going to the medical ward even if we have to drag you there."
"Try it."
Bryan challenged as he glared at them.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, for—"
Sabrina stepped forward, her face flushed with anger.
"What is wrong with you? Do you think this makes you look tough? Because it doesn't. It makes you look stupid!"
"Sabrina…"
Alexander cautioned, but she wasn't finished.
"No, I'm done tiptoeing around him."
She snapped.
"Either he goes to get help, or I'm going to knock him out and carry him there myself!"
"I'd like to see you try."
Bryan said coldly as his hand twitched at his side.
The tension in the air thickened as they squared off, neither willing to back down.
"What's going on over here?"
Silivia's voice broke through the commotion as she approached, Alan following close behind. The two instructors pushed through the small circle that had formed around Bryan.
Alan's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene—the blood-spattered floor, Bryan's stained sleeve, the concerned faces of his teammates.
"Blackwood."
He said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Come with me."
Bryan opened his mouth to protest, but a fresh wave of blood cut him off. He swallowed hard, tasting copper.
Alan turned to Silivia.
"Watch the kids. See if you can get the upcoming match delayed or canceled."
Silivia nodded once.
"I'll try, but you know how the schedule is. They'll probably just have Team Three perform without their fifth member."
"Then that's what they'll do."
Alan said firmly. He placed a hand on Bryan's shoulder, guiding him toward the exit.
"The rest of you, stay here. Focus on preparing for your match."
As they stepped out into the hallway, Bryan couldn't help but wonder what was going on. The bleeding should have stopped by now. His magic should have worked. Nothing about this made sense.
"You're broken."
Zoltan's voice slithered into his thoughts.
"There's no fixing you. You're falling apart, piece by piece."
"I've had enough of you."
Bryan muttered under his breath.
"Shut up."
Alan glanced sideways at him.
"Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
Bryan said quickly, wiping away another trickle of blood.
"I don't need to go to the medical ward. I'm fine."
"Sure you are."
Alan replied, his tone flat with disbelief.
"That's why you're bleeding all over my hallway."
Bryan clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Look, kid."
Alan sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"You already collapsed last night. It's only been two days you've been here, and you're already causing trouble for the medical staff."
Bryan fell silent, his footsteps faltering slightly.
Alan stopped walking and turned to face him.
"What, surprised that I knew?"
He crossed his arms.
"There's nothing you students do that we don't know about. When a medical report comes through, and it's the second one, then naturally all the instructors are informed."
Bryan remained silent, his eyes fixed on a point past Alan's shoulder.
"You can stay silent all you want."
Alan continued.
"But it doesn't change the facts. So what's really going on?"
Bryan met his gaze finally.
"Nothing. It's just a nosebleed."
The blood had finally begun to slow, leaving dark stains down the front of his uniform.
Alan didn't respond right away.
He started walking again, slower this time.
The silence stretched for a while before Alan spoke again.
"Your team's probably going to lose the next match."
Bryan didn't flinch, but his jaw set tighter.
Alan caught the subtle gesture.
"That's on you."
What was he going to say? That this wasn't his fault. It wasn't, but Alan was not going to buy that.
They would lose because they were weak, not because he wasn't there. But, this was a team he was a part of, and a loss was a loss.
Bryan hated losing.
"But I don't think that bothers you because they'll lose."
Alan added.
"I think it bothers you because it means you didn't win."
He glanced sideways.
"You strike me as the type who thinks winning's everything. That losing means you're weak. Or worse—useless."
Bryan's eyes didn't leave the hallway ahead.
"You finished?"
Alan smirked faintly.
"Not even close."
He let the footsteps echo again before continuing.
"You know."
He said.
"When I see a student walk around trying to act like nothing's wrong, bleeding or otherwise… it usually means they're hiding something. Could be something small, maybe major. But it all has an impact, on them and on those around them."
Bryan still didn't react. He didn't need another lecture.
Alan let that sit for a moment.
"I had someone like that in my squad, back when I still served. Thought pain made him sharp. Kept pushing even when his hands were shaking. Bled out in his bunk trying to hide a rupture. No glory. No last stand. Just stupid pride."
Alan didn't push the story further. He didn't need to.
"You can tell me it's nothing. That it's 'just a nosebleed.'"
Alan shrugged.
"Hell, maybe it is. Maybe you're fine."
He looked ahead again, tone dropping just enough to be heard.
"But you're not the only one watching your team fall apart."
Bryan finally spoke.
"The bleeding stopped."
Alan didn't look surprised.
"That supposed to mean something?"
"It means I'm fine."
Bryan said.
There was a pause.
"No. It means you think you're fine."
Alan replied.
"Big difference."
Bryan didn't respond. This whole situation was turning out to be more of a pain than his inquisition training.
Alan didn't press further.
Instead, he just said.
"Medical ward's ahead. Let's see what the professionals think."
And Bryan kept walking.
But inside, he knew the truth.
The bleeding had stopped.
That wasn't the same as being okay.
***
The medical ward was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of staff moving between rooms. Bryan sat on the edge of an examination table, his bloodstained uniform making him look more injured than he actually was.
A middle-aged woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun examined him. Dr. Eliza Harmon, according to the identification badge clipped to her white coat. She calmly checked his pupils, pulse, and breathing.
"Second visit in two days."
She remarked, not looking up from her notes.
"That's quite a record, Mr. Blackwood."
It didn't seem like a record of any kind. People got hurt, they went to get fixed up. Physically, he felt fine. No bruises, no pain, no wounds.
The one thing Eliza had going for her, was that she was not the nurse from yesterday. Bryan wasn't sure what he would do if he met her again.
Alan leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, watching the examination. He hadn't said a word since they'd arrived.
"Any headaches?"
Dr. Harmon asked, pulling a small crystal from her pocket. It glowed with a soft blue light as she held it near Bryan's temples.
"No."
"Dizziness? Disorientation?"
"No."
The doctor's eyebrow raised slightly.
"Fatigue? Unusual stress?"
Bryan's expression remained impassive.
"No."
Dr. Harmon's lips pressed into a thin line. She placed the crystal back in her pocket and made another note on her chart.
"I'm going to perform a standard ether pathway examination."
She said, reaching for a different instrument on the nearby table.
"This won't hurt, but you may feel a slight tingling sensation."
"I was already examined yesterday."
Bryan told her.
"They found nothing wrong."
'Or they weren't looking for anything.'
He thought.
"Yes, I have those notes."
Dr. Harmon replied, glancing at her chart.
"But recurring nosebleeds warrant a follow-up. Your condition is... unique. We don't have much precedent for blood attribute mages."
Bryan's jaw tightened, but he didn't resist as she raised the instrument.
"Just get it over with."
Alan straightened from his position against the wall.
"By the way, Blackwood, who were you talking to on our way here?"
Bryan's eyes flicked toward Alan, then back to the doctor's instrument. Of course Alan would bring that up while the doctor was around. Just what he needed.
People thinking he was talking to himself. Another 'symptom' the doctor would add to her notes.
"No one."
"Really?"
Alan pressed.
"Because I distinctly heard you say 'I've had enough of you' and 'shut up.' Sounded like you were having quite the conversation with 'no one.'"
"Just thinking out loud."
Bryan told him, which wasn't wrong. If he could have transmitted those thoughts to Zoltan he would have.
"Must have been some thought."
Alan remarked.
Dr. Harmon paused, the instrument hovering near Bryan's temple. Her gaze shifted between Bryan and Alan.
"Have you been talking to yourself frequently, Mr. Blackwood?"
She asked.
"Or perhaps... hearing things? Voices, maybe?"
Bryan's expression hardened.
"No."
"It's perfectly normal under stress."
She continued.
"Many mages experience auditory phenomena when their cores are under strain. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I said no, didn't I?"
Bryan replied, each word clipped and cold.
Alan's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Watch your tone, Blackwood. The doctor is trying to help you."
'Then she should listen when I answer her questions, instead of asking the same thing different ways hoping for a different answer.'
Bryan thought to himself but knew that he shouldn't try to argue with Alan. It would get him nowhere.
Dr. Harmon seemed unfazed by his rudeness.
"It's fine Alan. Let's continue with the examination."
From the corner of his eye, Bryan caught a glimpse of movement—a small black shape darting behind a cabinet.
Dr. Harmon cleared her throat.
"Mr. Blackwood, I need you to focus please."
The examination proceeded in silence.
"Well…"
She said finally.
"Your pathways appear normal. No signs of corruption or blockage."
Bryan didn't look surprised.
"Like I said."
"However."
She continued, ignoring his comment.
These recurring episodes are concerning. If they continue, you could experience more serious complications—magical exhaustion, decreased control over your abilities, potentially even long-term damage to your core."
"It won't happen again."
Bryan said with finality.
Dr. Harmon looked skeptical.
"I'd like to believe that, but without knowing the cause—"
"It won't happen again."
Bryan repeated, cutting her off.
The doctor sighed, setting down her instrument.
"At minimum, I'm recommending rest for the remainder of the day. No training, no combat, no magic use. If you experience any more episodes—nosebleeds, fatigue, anything unusual—you are to report back immediately. Understood?"
Bryan nodded once, already sliding off the examination table.
"I haven't dismissed you yet."
Dr. Harmon said sharply.
Bryan paused, then sat down on the edge of the table.
"I want to be clear about something, Mr. Blackwood."
She continued.
"Whatever is happening, it's not something to ignore. The human body has ways of telling us when something is wrong. Ignoring those signals doesn't make you strong—it makes you foolish."
"Noted."
Bryan said, his tone indicating the exact opposite.
Dr. Harmon looked like she wanted to say more, but instead turned to Alan.
"He needs rest. And observation. If anything changes—"
"I'll bring him back."
Alan assured her.
She nodded, gathering her notes.
"You're free to go, Mr. Blackwood. Remember—rest. No exceptions."
As she reached the door, she paused.
"Instructor Walker, a word outside, please?"
Bryan's brow furrowed slightly at that remark. This entire time she's been calling him Alan, now Instructor Walker? Something was up.
Alan nodded, following her into the hallway. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Bryan's eyes immediately drifted to the cabinet where he'd seen Zoltan. The mouse was perched on top now, his purple eyes fixed on Bryan, tail flicking back and forth.
***
In the hallway, Dr. Harmon moved a few steps from the door, her expression serious.
"Was there a problem with his examination?"
Alan asked, keeping his voice low.
She shook her head.
"No, physically he seems to be healthy as can be. There's some minor damage to his pathways, but it's old and shouldn't affect him in any way."
"You're sure about that?"
Alan pressed.
"Quite sure."
She replied firmly.
"But that's not why I asked you out here."
She glanced back at the closed door.
"That small outburst he had when I asked about hearing voices—it was extremely defensive. More than the situation warranted."
Alan crossed his arms.
"You think he is hearing something."
"I don't just think it—I'd bet my license on it."
Dr. Harmon said.
"During the examination, his eyes kept darting around the room, tracking something. Like he thought something was in there with us."
"What would he be seeing?"
Alan asked.
"I don't know."
She admitted.
"But whatever it is, he believes it's real. That's what concerns me."
Alan sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Will it affect his ability to continue at the academy? Is he fit for training?"
"For now, I'd say we monitor him closely."
She replied.
"See what happens next before making any decisions. It could be temporary—stress, exhaustion, adjustment to a new environment."
Her tablet vibrated in her hand. She glanced down at it and frowned slightly.
"I have to go—the headmaster is requesting my presence."
She said, already turning to leave.
"Keep an eye on him, Alan. And if anything changes—"
"I know."
Alan nodded.
"I'll contact you immediately."
As Dr. Harmon hurried down the hallway, Alan stood outside the door for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, with a deep breath, he turned the handle and stepped back into the room.
"Well?"
Alan asked.
Bryan turned to him.
"Well what?"
"You going to follow the doctor's orders? Or are we going to have a problem?"
"I don't have a choice, do I?"
"There's always a choice."
Alan replied.
"But some are smarter than others."
Zoltan scurried down the cabinet and across the floor, pausing near Bryan's feet.
"He's testing you."
The mouse said.
"Seeing how far you'll push back. Careful now."
Bryan resisted the urge to look down.
"I'll rest."
He said to Alan.
"For now."
Alan studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"Good. Be sure to change your clothes so you don't scare anyone you might pass."
He gestured to Bryan's bloodstained uniform.
"That's not doing you any favors."
As Alan moved toward the door, he paused, looking back.
"One more thing, Blackwood."
Bryan met his gaze, expression guarded.
"Whatever you're hiding—whatever you think you need to keep to yourself—it won't stay buried forever."
Alan's eyes held his.
"Trust me on that."