I was becoming uncomfortably familiar with the crystalline dome ceiling of the infirmary. This time, though, the light rays' patterns seemed more agitated, as if reflecting my body's rebellion against magical overexertion.
"Welcome back to consciousness, Ash. I hope you've enjoyed your tours of unconsciousness. Perhaps next time we could arrange for you to visit a different part of oblivion?" Finn's voice carried its usual sarcasm, but I could detect the underlying concern.
I turned my head slightly and was surprised to find not just Finn, but an entire welcoming committee gathered around my bed. Gavril stood next to Finn, his face a mixture of worry and amusement from Finn's comment. Professor Blackthorn leaned against a crystal column, looking far less contrite than someone who had nearly gotten a student killed should. And, most surprisingly, Elias and Soren hovered near the entrance, maintaining a calculated distance while still clearly interested in my condition.
"Am I finally dead?" I croaked, my throat dry as parchment.
"Not yet, though you seem to be making a valiant effort," came a melodious yet stern voice. Lady Althea stepped into view, her skin glowing with that ethereal golden luminescence that made her look like a living star. Her eyes cycled through its various shades of green as she examined me.
"Lady Althea," I attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down.
"Remain still," she commanded, placing a hand over my chest. I felt a warm pulse radiate through my body. "Your probability matrix is severely destabilized. Again." The last word carried enough weight to sink a battleship.
"In my defense…" I began.
"You have no defense, Ardent," Lady Althea cut me off. "You were explicitly instructed to avoid strenuous magical activity." Her gaze shifted to Professor Blackthorn. "And you, Professor, were informed of his condition."
Professor Blackthorn pushed herself off the column with a casual shrug. "The duel was educational. And technically a draw."
"A draw that could have permanently altered his connection to the probabilistic framework of reality," Lady Althea countered. The luminescent plants growing along the walls pulsed brighter, seemingly responding to her irritation. "His cellular regeneration pattern is using increasingly chaotic pathways to achieve stability. It's fascinating but extremely dangerous."
"But fixable, right?" Finn asked, looking genuinely concerned now.
Lady Althea's expression softened slightly. "Yes, but only with complete magical abstinence." She turned her stern gaze back to me. "No spells, no charms, no cantrips, not even a flicker of magical intent for a full week. Your body needs to recalibrate its relationship with probability without interference."
"A week?" I groaned.
"Would you prefer permanent destabilization? Perhaps randomly teleporting parts of your anatomy throughout the Academy?" Lady Althea raised an eyebrow.
"A week sounds perfect," I quickly amended.
Elias, who had been silently observing from afar, finally spoke. "Impressive performance in the arena, Ardent. Especially for someone who claims to have no control over his... gift."
Before I could respond, Lady Althea interjected, "He has no visitors now. All of you, out. Except you, Professor Blackthorn. We need to discuss appropriate risk assessment protocols."
Professor Blackthorn's enthusiasm visibly dimmed. As my friends filed out, Finn mouthed "We'll wait outside" while Gavril gave me an encouraging nod.
Once alone with Lady Althea and a chastened Professor Blackthorn, I received a detailed lecture on the nature of my condition. Apparently, my "random cellular regeneration" was now showing signs of "probabilistic resonance feedback loops," whatever that meant. The bottom line was clear: no magic, or next time I might wake up with my limbs in different time zones.
After what felt like hours of medical jargon and thinly-veiled threats to my continued existence, Lady Althea finally released me with a final warning: "Remember, Ardent. Not. One. Spell."
****
My friends were waiting in the corridor outside, along with—surprisingly—Elias. Soren had apparently deemed waiting for a commoner beneath his dignity.
"So," Finn clapped his hands together, "no magic for a week. Should be interesting."
"For all of us," Gavril added with a slight smile. "Your luck still operates independently of your conscious magical efforts, correct?"
I groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Precisely what makes you fascinating," Elias said, stepping forward. "A force of chaos walking among us, unable to control his own destiny."
"Just thing I needed, a poetic description of my personal hell," I muttered.
Finn snorted. "Come on, let's get you dressed and back to the dorm. You've got a week of boring normalcy ahead."
"Nothing is normal at Arcanis," I reminded him as I ducked behind a privacy screen to change out of the infirmary gown.
Professor Blackthorn emerged from the infirmary, looking remarkably unfazed for someone who had just been reprimanded by a personification of healing itself. "Ardent, your combat instincts are impressive, even if your magical control is... unconventional. When you're cleared, we'll work on channeling that chaos more productively."
"If I survive that long," I replied, stepping out in my uniform.
"Survival is just probability management," she said with a wink before striding off down the corridor, boots echoing against the crystal floor.
Elias regarded me with that unsettling, calculating gaze of his. "Your recovery will be observed with great interest, Ardent. Perhaps we could discuss your unique relationship with fortune over dinner sometime."
"Is that an invitation or a threat?" I asked.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Can't it be both? Until later." He inclined his head slightly and departed, leaving me with Finn and Gavril.
"Well," Finn draped an arm around my shoulders, "one week of being absolutely, boringly normal. What could possibly go wrong?"