Red. Blue. Silver. Black.

They wore them on their wrists like ranks.

Some days, I forgot mine was even there — the dull red cloth wrapped around my wrist. But today, it bugged me.

I noticed it more when I passed a group of silvers in the hall. They didn’t speak, just stared as I passed, like I’d tracked mud into their perfect little kingdom.

“Didn’t think they let reds live this long,” one of them muttered under his breath. Loud enough to be heard.

I kept walking.

We were given the afternoon off after the Trial. Turner claimed it was a reward for an overall good class performance.

Iris found me behind the training annex, sitting on a crumbling bench in the shade, watching the clouds roll past the ruined part of the field. She dropped a wrapped sandwich on my lap without asking.

“You’re welcome,” she said, biting into her own.

“Not hungry,” I muttered.

“You will be when the adrenaline fades.”

She sat beside me, flicking a small stone with her boot.

“People are talking about you,” she said eventually.

“Because of the Trial?”

“Because of you and Leo.”

She leaned back, her blue band catching my attention. Bright and unmistakable.

“You know what the bands mean, right?” she asked.

I glanced at mine — deep red, worn from use.

“Tell me.”

She held up her wrist.

“Blue means my power’s under control. Predictable. I won't explode and accidentally put someone in the hospital.”

She pointed toward a group at a nearby table.

“Silver’s standard. Safe. Most students wear silver— it means the academy can file you away without worrying.”

She nodded toward my wrist.

“Red means… dangerous. With training, you’ll soon be upgraded to a blue.”

“Cool. So I’m a freak.”

“No,” she said, almost smiling. “You’re actually one of the few people here who doesn’t scare me.”

Back inside, the common room buzzed with low conversation. A few students gathered near the board where assignments and sparring matches were posted.

Leo was there too, arms crossed, flames gently flickering along his knuckles like he wasn’t even trying to hold them back. For once, his black band wasn’t hidden under a sleeve.

Black.

Iris had explained that one too.

Black was a special case. Dangerously powerful, and unpredictable.

What had he done to earn that band?

Leo glanced over, saw me watching, and gave a friendly nod.

“A red and a black,” Iris murmured. “Now there’s a pair no one wants in the same room.”

I scoffed, turning to her.

She was still watching Leo, but her expression had shifted— more curious than cautious.

“I used to think he was just a lazy prodigy,” she said. “But lately… I can’t quite wrap my head around him.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about what Leo said.

Let me know when you’re tired of holding back.

Was that what I was doing?

Holding back?