POV: NeomaMagic is a muscle.That’s what the Citadel instructors told the Highblood cadets. You train it. You break it down. It grows back stronger. But for me, the Void didn't feel like a muscle. It felt like a stomach. And if I didn't stretch it, if I didn't teach it how to digest what I fed it, it would eventually eat me.I sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of Training Sub-basement 4. It was 0300 hours. The barracks were asleep. Viggo was snoring in the common room—a low, rhythmic rumble. Even Wolfy had finally put his datapad down.In front of me lay a pile of scavenged industrial batteries. Heavy, brick-sized power cells I had swiped from the maintenance closet."Okay," I whispered to the silence. "Just a sip."I picked up the first battery. It hummed against my palm. A low, chemical vibration that tickled the nerves.I closed my eyes. Reached for the vacuum in my chest.Usually, I pulled energy in a panic—a violent, desperate gulp to stop a heart or freeze a bullet. T
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