The Magisterium's specialized testing facility occupied an entire wing of the Central Tower's seventh floor, a labyrinth of halls and laboratories dedicated to the study of obscure and unusual magical phenomena. Ember, Pyra, and Kindle followed Heidi through passages lined with shimmering enchantments, the air tingling with the residue of centuries of arcane experimentation.

"This is where we conduct all our advanced magical analysis," Heidi explained, her cheerful demeanor unchanged despite the early hour. "Archmage Vosk has prepared Room Seven specifically for your evaluation. It's our most comprehensive testing chamber."

"Comprehensive," Pyra repeated, her voice carrying a note of resignation. "That's not ominous at all."

"Oh, you'll find it quite comfortable," Heidi assured them, stopping before a door marked with intricate golden runes. "We've made every effort to ensure your experience is as pleasant as possible. Beyond the necessary trials and evaluations, of course."

The door opened at Heidi's touch, revealing a chamber that combined elements of an academic lecture hall, an alchemist's workshop, and a healer's infirmary. Windows overlooked Amaranth's morning bustle, while carefully positioned mirrors created the illusion of greater space.

Galen stood near a table covered with crystalline devices, his scholarly excitement barely contained beneath professional composure. "Excellent timing. I've just finished calibrating the resonance analyzers."

Valerian emerged from behind a partition, his pale blue eyes reflecting the morning light as he settled them with a discerning gaze. "Welcome, ladies. May I offer refreshments before we begin? This process has the potential to be somewhat invasive."

Ember shook her head. "We're fine, thank you. Best to begin before nerves complicate matters."

"Indeed," Valerian conceded, gesturing toward a set of three comfortable chairs arranged near the crystalline instruments. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. We'll begin with basic magical signature analysis before progressing to more complex procedures."

Ember settled into the center chair, Pyra and Kindle flanking her. Pyra fidgeted nervously, while Kindle scanned the room, eyes narrowed.

"Just out of curiosity," Ember ventured, "how complex are we talking here?"

Galen picked up one of the smaller crystals, flicking a finger across its edge to produce a melodious chime. "We'll begin with basic magical signature analysis before progressing to more complex procedures. Don't worry, we'll explain each step thoroughly before beginning. Your understanding is crucial to the process."

"Before we begin," Valerian said, producing an official-looking document, "I need to confirm your understanding of these procedures. All testing is voluntary and may be discontinued at your request. Any data collected will be used solely for classification purposes and magical theory advancement."

"And if we refuse certain tests?" Ember asked, though she already suspected the answer.

"Then your classification remains incomplete," Valerian replied with bureaucratic precision. "Which would necessitate continued oversight until satisfactory documentation is achieved."

The implication was clear enough that arguing would be pointless.

"Let's get on with it then," Pyra said, settling back in her chair with resigned determination. "What exactly does 'magical signature analysis' involve?"

Galen activated one of his crystalline devices, which immediately began emitting a soft harmonic tone. "We're measuring the fundamental frequencies of your magical essence. Think of it as... fingerprinting your souls."

"That's reassuringly not creepy," Kindle muttered under her breath, earning a smirk from Pyra.

"The process is entirely non-invasive," Valerian assured them, adjusting controls on a second device. "You'll feel a slight tingling sensation as the analyzers map your magical patterns."

The tingling sensation proved to be an understatement. As the devices activated fully, warmth spread through their bodies like gentle sunlight, followed by a peculiar awareness of their own magical essence. They could sense their flames responding to the analysis, flickering in patterns that matched the instruments' harmonic resonance.

"Fascinating," Galen murmured, studying readings that appeared on a series of glowing displays. "Your fire isn't quite pyromancy as we understand it. The energy signature is... offset. As though it originates from a different fundamental source."

"Different how?" Ember asked, watching numbers cascade across the nearest screen.

"Traditional pyromancy draws power from elemental fire planes," Valerian explained, his attention fixed on his own instruments. "Your flames appear to be generated through an entirely separate mechanism. Self-contained, self-sustaining, and remarkably stable."

"Is that bad?" Pyra asked, glancing between the two Archmages.

"It's unprecedented," Galen replied, which wasn't exactly reassuring. "The theoretical implications alone could revolutionize our understanding of elemental magic."

The analysis continued for nearly an hour, with increasingly complex instruments applied to measure various aspects of their magical essence. Some tests required them to summon flames while readings were taken. Others measured their magical aura during rest states. The most intrusive required them to attempt specific spells while ensconced within a matrix of analytical crystals.

"We don't actually... cast spells," Pyra explained for the third time. "It just sort of... happens when we want it to."

"Curious," Valerian mused, adjusting dials on his newest configuration of crystals. "So, no incantations, no gestures beyond pointing or directing with your hands. No ritual components... Do you understand the mechanism by which this is achieved? Can you distinguish between spell-like effects and instinctive manifestations of your flame?"

"Not really," Ember admitted. "It's difficult to put into words. We simply... grasp a concept, form it into an intent, and will it to occur. Our flame takes shape according to that intent."

"So, a pure expression of mental shaping. No formal spellcraft involved at all." Galen stroked his beard thoughtfully. "An utterly unique magical paradigm. No wonder you've confounded our classification efforts."

"From a purely magical standpoint," Heidi said, entering the room with a platter bearing refreshments, "you are utterly unprecedented. A marvel of magical idiosyncrasy."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Pyra muttered.

The archmages exchanged glances, Valerian's expression somewhere between intrigue and uncertainty.

"You pose a fascinating conundrum," he finally said. "Unique, mysterious, yet undeniably present among us. Your abilities certainly warrant ongoing study, but they don't represent the class of threat that would require extraordinary containment measures."

"Not that we're contemplating such measures," Galen interjected, glancing at Valerian with a hint of warning. "We're simply engaged in an academic discussion."

"Right," Valerian replied. "Simply speculating. But your gifts do raise questions—questions that could impact magical theory on a fundamental level. Next, we'll test your enhanced physical capabilities. Specifically, your documented speed abilities."

Across the city, Ash and Cinder stood before an unremarkable door in one of Amaranth's quieter commercial districts. The chronicle-house Malik had mentioned turned out to be a modest bookshop squeezed between a bakery and a merchant specializing in imported textiles. Its windows bore no sign or title, just simple curtains that obscured the interior from view.

"This is it?" Cinder asked, studying the weathered sign that read 'Tomes & Eclectic' in faded gilt lettering. "Doesn't exactly scream 'gateway to mysterious knowledge preservation societies.'"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Sometimes the most important doors look the most ordinary," Ash replied, though she sounded less confident than her words suggested. "Malik specifically mentioned this location as a place where messages could be left for the Mnemosynes."

The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, announcing their presence to a shop that appeared empty except for towering shelves of books and scrolls. Dust motes danced in streams of light filtering through grimy windows, and the air carried the comfortable mustiness of aged paper and well-worn leather bindings.

"Hello?" Cinder called, her voice carrying through the narrow aisles. "Anyone here?"

An elderly man emerged from behind a counter stacked with manuscripts, his thinning hair arranged around a bald pate, and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his nose.

"May I help you, ladies?" he asked, his voice querulous but not unkind.

"We're looking for information about the Mnemosynes," Ash said directly, having decided that subtlety would likely prove counterproductive. "We were told that messages could be left here for their consideration."

The man peered owlishly through his spectacles, giving no indication that her words had made any sense to him. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to. This is simply a bookshop, specializing in used and antique volumes."

"Our source was quite specific," Cinder pressed, recognizing evasion when she heard it. "Malik Renard mentioned this establishment as a point of contact."

"Renard?" The man's bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise. "The wandering bard? Unreliable fellow, in my estimation. Given to tall tales and embellishments. I haven't heard that name in months. When did you speak with him?"

"Several months ago," Ash replied. "We were in a caravan together, bound for Amaranth. He suggested the Mnemosynes might be able to assist with our... scholarly inquiries."

The man studied them for a long moment, his gaze moving from face to face as though trying to evaluate their sincerity. "What sort of scholarly inquiries?"

"Questions about consciousness and memory," Ash said carefully. "Particularly regarding fragmented identity and the preservation of knowledge across multiple... vessels."

"Interesting terminology," the man observed. "Though I'm afraid such advanced topics are beyond the scope of my humble establishment." He gestured vaguely at his shelves. "Perhaps you'd be interested in some of our more conventional offerings?"

Cinder recognized a dismissal when she heard one, but Ash stepped forward, undeterred.

"We can pay," Ash said, producing a small purse that clinked with the weight of gold coins. "Generously, for access to the right knowledge."

The man's expression hardened noticeably. "Young lady, if you're suggesting that scholarly pursuits are merely commercial transactions, you've fundamentally misunderstood the nature of preserved knowledge. True understanding cannot be purchased—it must be earned through dedication, insight, and demonstrated wisdom."

"Then how do we demonstrate those qualities?"

"You don't," the man replied flatly. "At least, not here, and not in the manner you're attempting. Good day."

With that, he returned to his counter and busied himself with reorganizing his stacks of books, his posture clearly communicating his refusal to entertain further discussion.

Cinder glanced at Ash, who returned a defeated shrug.

"Come on," Cinder said loudly enough for the elderly man to hear. "We'll have to try the conventional libraries instead. Maybe the Astrolabe Archives will have something about theoretical consciousness multiplicity and the philosophical implications of distributed identity."

They reached the door before the man called after them.

"Wait."

Back at the Magisterium facility, the speed testing had transformed the largest chamber into an obstacle course worthy of an adventurer's arena. Crystalline markers dotted the space at varying intervals, delineating a complex path that twisted back on itself and incorporated a variety of terrains and elevations.

"Standard procedure," Valerian explained as Kindle stretched in preparation for the trial. "We'll measure your baseline speed, then compare it against established metrics for agility-enhancement spells."

"Enhancement spells?" Kindle asked, though she was already bouncing on her toes with anticipation.

"Haste magic," Galen replied, adjusting a crystalline lens the size of his head. "Spells that accelerate the target's physicality and perception, effectively allowing them to move, and think, faster than normally possible."

"Neat," Kindle replied, then shrugged out of her jacket, leaving only her loose shirt. The garment was sleeveless to accommodate her particular... exits.

"Whenever you're ready," Valerian said, gesturing to the starting point.

Kindle blew out a breath, then surged forward—exploding into a blur of motion as she began threading her way through the course. The crystalline markers flared to life at her passage, leaving a trail of shimmering light in her wake.

"Faster than expected," Valerian observed, adjusting his instruments.

"Faster than any existing spellwork," Galen agreed, "especially given the duration and lack of aftereffects."

Kindle finished her circuit and trotted back to the observers, barely winded. "How'd I do?"

"You exceeded expectations," Valerian replied, gesturing to Ember and Pyra in turn. "Let's see if your comrades can match your performance."

Pyra set a slightly slower pace but with fewer errors. Ember's path was closer to Kindle's but with greater concentration on maintaining speed over precision.

Valerian and Galen studied the resulting charts as the three women caught their breath. "Most fascinating," Valerian murmured.

"Unparalleled," Galen agreed. "Not even maximized and augmented Haste spells can replicate results like these, without utterly depleting the caster afterward."

"Is that good or bad?" Pyra asked, reaching for a cloth to wipe away the sweat on her neck.

"Good, certainly, from a magical perspective," Galen replied absently, still engrossed in his readouts. "Though it raises intriguing questions regarding the source and mechanisms of your powers."

Valerian flicked a finger at his crystals, which emitted a harmonic chime. "There are intriguing resonances between your abilities and certain fundamental magical principles, but the connections are... oblique. Unexpected."

Ember raised an eyebrow. "Which means?"

"It means," Valerian said slowly, "that your abilities align with established magical theory, yet they diverge from any known form of sorcery. You're not pyromancers or evokers or transmuters... but neither are you mere aberrations or anomalies. There is a pattern at work here. Something deeper and more profound. Something... " He trailed off, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Yes?" Ember prompted.

Valerian frowned. "Something I suspect I'm not authorized to speculate on. Let's continue, shall we? I believe the next test was to focus on your invulnerabilities and resistances."

"Distributed identity," the elder scholar repeated slowly, having returned to his position behind the counter. "That's a remarkably specific philosophical concept. Where did you encounter such terminology?"

Ash exchanged a quick glance with Cinder before responding. "Personal experience, primarily. We're seeking to understand the theoretical frameworks that might explain... unusual circumstances."

"What sort of unusual circumstances?"

"The kind," Cinder said carefully, "that involve consciousness existing across multiple forms while maintaining coherent identity."

"Hmph," the scholar muttered, drumming his fingers on his countertop. "And I suppose you'll claim to be ancient witches bound by mysterious curses next?"

Ash opened her mouth to respond, but Cinder beat her to it. "Not exactly. But if we were, hypothetically speaking, would that pose a problem?"

The man rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Hypothetically? I suppose that would depend on the nature of the curse and whether or not the ancient witches were inclined to engage in polite conversation."

"Let's assume the conversation was quite pleasant," Cinder countered.

"Then I'd suggest those hypothetical witches enjoy a cup of tea and engage in productive research on the nature of memory, identity, and the preservation of the same."

Cinder considered the words. "I suspect that hypothetical witches might appreciate an introduction to those holding information about such matters."

The old man was quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving between them appraisingly.

"The Mnemosynes don't typically concern themselves with theoretical inquiries. Their interests lie in practical application of preserved knowledge, particularly regarding phenomena that challenge conventional understanding."

"Which sounds exactly like what we need," Cinder observed.

"Perhaps," the man conceded. "Though gaining their attention requires more than gold or scholarly curiosity. They seek individuals who possess knowledge that might contribute to their preserved archives. Knowledge that isn't already contained within their collected memories."

Ash leaned forward slightly. "What sort of knowledge?"

"Understanding that comes from direct experience with phenomena beyond the mundane." The man's expression remained impassive. "Insights that can't be gained through conventional study or research."

"And if we possessed such insights?"

"Then they might be willing to engage in... mutually beneficial exchanges of information." The man moved toward a cabinet filled with scrolls and pulled out what appeared to be a blank piece of parchment. "Though I should warn you—the Mnemosynes test potential contacts quite thoroughly before agreeing to any substantive discussions."

"What kind of tests?" Cinder asked.

"The kind that determines whether your claimed knowledge is genuine, or whether you're simply another group of curiosity-seekers hoping to gain access to preserved wisdom you haven't earned."

He set the parchment on the counter between them, along with a quill that seemed to write in silver ink.

"Write your request," he instructed. "Include evidence of your unique insights and your reasons for seeking their knowledge. If your petition demonstrates sufficient merit, they may choose to respond."

"And if it doesn't?" Ash asked.

"Then you'll receive no response, and any further attempts to contact them will be ignored indefinitely."

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