The Magisterium testing chamber felt larger with only four of them occupying it. Ember sat in the chair where Kindle had been moments before, her hands pressed flat against her thighs as she stared at the empty space that somehow retained the impression of her sister-self's presence.

The scent of ozone and something sharper—the metallic afterglow of instantaneous death—lingered in the air like a physical weight.

"The redistribution effect is remarkable," Galen murmured from behind his protective barrier, crystalline instruments humming as they recorded the magical resonances flowing between the survivors. "I can actually observe the personality integration occurring in real time."

Valerian seemed to ignore Galen's observations. His attention remained wholly focused on the remaining women, his brow furrowed as he jotted down additional notes.

"How do you feel? Any disorientation? Physical discomfort?"

Pyra laughed, though the sound carried an edge that hadn't been there an hour ago. "Disoriented? Try rearranged. Kindle's sense of humor just landed in my head like a migrating bird." She rubbed her temples, grimacing. "We're getting the usual merging pains, too. Head's like it's about to explode with all the shuffling around inside."

"This merging pain you speak of—" Galen gestured towards her. "Would you describe it as sharp or a dull? Pulsating? Constant?"

"It's like... like a headache, but with... I don't know how to describe it. It's... more? There's an ache, but there's also this sensation like our thoughts are... untangling. I guess? It's just getting harder to... focus." Pyra squinted, as if the words were struggling to find their way into the world.

"This 'untangling' effect," Galen said, his interest sharpening, "do you believe it is due to individual personality differences being absorbed into the collective identity, or is there a suggestion that there are particular thoughts, values, or even abilities that are more keenly retained within certain personas?"

Ash, who had been leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed, lifted one eyelid halfway to peer at Galen. "How would we even answer that?"

Galen seemed unperturbed by her response, already scrawling down additional notes in his ledger. "It's a difficult question, I admit."

Behind the protective barriers, Beatrix entered the observation chamber, her steel-gray braid swaying stiffly against her back. As always, her face was an impassive mask.

"What of their powers?" she cut in, her voice slicing through the room like the sweep of a sword. "Any signs of consolidation or amplification?"

Valerian gave Beatrix a curt nod. "It's as they said. The redistribution of their shared power is obvious enough. We could even see it in the readings during the amalgamation process."

"I can confirm," Galen said, tapping one of his magical instruments in emphasis. "The devices recorded a surge in power across all of our subjects as their companion died." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Beatrix. "Though the term amalgamation is a bit harsh, given the circumstances."

Beatrix's lips thinned. "It is an apt term for what we've observed, Galen. Four vessels containing the essence normally distributed across five."

Ember winced, both from the continued throbbing at the back of her skull and the cold, clinical nature of Beatrix's observation. They were people—living, breathing people—not just... vessels. But to Beatrix, they were little more than magical phenomena to be studied and categorized.

"That's not how it feels," Ember protested. She glanced over at Cinder, who now rubbed at her neck as if the discomfort had migrated. "It's like... parts of Kindle are... slowly becoming parts of us. But not all of them, and not all at once. It's like..." Her words drifted as she struggled to articulate the sensation. "Like coming back from having a cold. You still feel off, but you're getting more and more of yourself back."

Galen turned an inquiring eye on her. "Fascinating."

"Yes, how fascinating." Beatrix's tone was not one of wonder but of satisfaction, like someone who had just fit a particularly troublesome puzzle piece into its proper place. She stepped out of the testing room and, after a moment, spoke again.

"You said you required twenty-four hours before you can resurrect Kindle, correct?"

Ember nodded. "Give or take."

"Very well. Then we shall reconvene tomorrow."

The waiting period stretched like taffy between their fingers. They returned to their townhouse, but the space felt wrong—too quiet, too empty, like a song missing its harmony. Spark sensed the wrongness immediately, chittering anxiously as he moved between their chairs, searching for the missing fifth member of his family.

"I keep expecting her to comment on my cooking," Pyra said, stirring a pot of stew with unnecessary vigor. "Usually she'd have made three jokes about my seasoning choices by now."

"She'd probably point out that we're oversalting to compensate for emotional distress," Ash replied automatically, then blinked in surprise. "That was definitely her voice in my head."

Cinder sprawled across the sofa, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes. "The headache's getting worse. Like someone's rearranging furniture in my skull."

"At least we know it's temporary," Ember said, though her own temples throbbed with the rhythm of four hearts trying to beat in harmony with a fifth that wasn't there.

They spent the evening in restless activity—Pyra reorganizing the kitchen, Cinder sharpening every blade in the house, Ash reading the same page seventeen times, Ember pacing circuits around their sitting room. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt complete.

Sleep came fitfully to minds that felt simultaneously overcrowded and incomplete.

Tomorrow came sooner than any of them expected. Despite the long night's sleep, their exhaustion felt bone-deep, the loss of Kindle lingering like an open wound. Even as they gathered in the familiar chamber, Valerian and Galen poised to observe, Beatrix standing like a sentinel of judgment, the room seemed to echo with the absence of their fifth.

Galen's voice, usually measured and calm, sounded just a touch tighter as he asked, "You'll begin the resurrection soon?"

Ember, her eyes heavy from lack of restorative sleep, rubbed at her temples. "Yes. Once we've begun the process, we won't be able to stop until it's complete."

"That is fine by us." Galen glanced back at Beatrix, who offered a nod so slight it could have been merely a twitch.

The four women stood in the chamber's center, hands joined in a loose circle as they prepared for the ritual that had become disturbingly familiar. Ember could feel Kindle's presence stirring within their shared consciousness, like someone waking from deep sleep.

"Ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Cinder replied, though her voice carried Kindle's distinctive note of nervous excitement.

"Beginning energy release," Ash announced for the observers' benefit, then closed her eyes and reached deep into the wellspring of power that burned at their core.

The flames began as whispers of blue light dancing between their joined hands, then grew steadily brighter as they channeled the excess energy that Kindle's death had concentrated within them. The fire swirled upward, forming a column that twisted and danced with impossible beauty.

"Remarkable energy output." Galen's instruments registered readings that made him shake his head in amazement. "The intensity alone exceeds what most mages can produce."

The column of flame expanded, becoming a vortex of sapphire fire that filled the chamber with warmth and light. Within the dancing flames, shapes began to form—suggestions of human features, glimpses of familiar gestures, the echo of laughter that sounded distinctly like Kindle's voice.

"There," Pyra whispered, pointing to a more solid shape taking form within the firestorm. "She's coming back."

The figure grew more distinct, flames coalescing into flesh and bone as though sculpted by an invisible hand. Arms, legs, the curve of a spine, the familiar tangle of flame-colored hair. Kindle's form solidified like sculpture emerging from marble, naked and gleaming with residual fire.

The vortex collapsed, flames dissipating into wisps of smoke as Kindle gasped her first breath of returned life. She stumbled, caught herself, then looked around the chamber with an expression of dawning comprehension. "Oh."

Ember smiled, gently reaching out to pull Kindle into a firm hug that the others quickly joined. "Welcome back."

The chamber erupted in activity as Valerian and Galen activated their instruments to capture the phenomenon's aftermath. Recording crystals hummed with captured data while Heidi hurried forward with a warm robe to preserve Kindle's modesty.

As they helped wrap their newest-old sister-self in the robe, Kindle glanced around the room. Her movements were unsure, as if she was navigating a foreign land, and her eyes gleamed with the mixture of recognition and bafflement.

"So that's what dying and coming back feels like."

"How do you feel?" Galen asked eagerly, though he maintained respectful distance while Kindle adjusted the robe around herself.

"Like I've been sleeping in four different beds at once." Kindle flexed her fingers as if she were reacquainting herself with their sensation. "And... a little bit... scrambled. Disjointed."

"That's a good word for it," Pyra agreed. "Everything was all... everywhere, you know?"

"The memory retention appears complete." Valerian made rapid notes. "Can you recall the experience of death itself?"

"It was..." Kindle paused, gathering the strands of her memory. "It wasn't painful. One moment I was listening to you explain the spell mechanics, the next I was... elsewhere. Aware but not embodied. I could sense the others, feel their thoughts and emotions, but I couldn't participate directly."

She stretched, working stiffness from muscles that had just been recreated from pure energy. "The strangest part was feeling my own personality distributed among them. Like being scattered across four mirrors that each reflected a different angle."

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"Extraordinary." Beatrix's professional composure couldn't quite mask her fascination. "Complete consciousness preservation across multiple vessels, followed by successful reintegration upon restoration."

Ash pulled her back into the group. "Welcome back, Kindle."

Kindle embraced Ash back. "Good to be back."

"So, how was your first death?"

"Overrated." Kindle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I give it three out of five stars. Interesting journey, but I wouldn't recommend the destination for extended visits."

They chuckled as Kindle resumed her usual playful mood, though something in her eyes suggested the experience had marked her more deeply than her light words indicated.

The classification meeting took place in Beatrix's formal office two days later, and it soon became clear that this was a ritual every bit as practiced as the rest of the Magisterium's assessment and evaluation procedures. The five women occupied their familiar semicircle of chairs, though the atmosphere felt different—less adversarial, more ceremonial.

Beatrix, Galen, and Valerian were arrayed before them in a similar formation, though today, instead of instruments and apparatuses of study, the archmages had brought with them thick leather-bound tomes embossed with ornate seals. It appeared, to Ember's eyes at least, rather like a gathering of judges on the final day of a trial.

But unlike a traditional courtroom, the room lacked obvious spectators. The only observer, other than the participants themselves, was Heidi. Standing discreetly in a corner, she still wore her usual formal attire, though she had added a scribe's robe in anticipation of the forthcoming ceremony.

Beatrix, seated squarely in the middle of the trio of archmages, held in her lap not a tome but a simple parchment scroll, which she unfurled with the care of one handling an ancient relic. Even unrolled, the document was rather unimpressive, a modest list of points written in an elegant, spidery script.

Next to Ember, Cinder leaned over and whispered, "Looks like someone's shopping list."

Ember shot her a look but couldn't hide her smile at Cinder's irreverence, which somehow served to untie the knot of tension that had been forming in her gut.

Beatrix glanced up from the parchment, her eyes falling on Ember first as though she'd heard Cinder's words, then she looked at each of the other four in turn.

"Since before the founding of Amaranth itself, the Magisterium has adhered to a set of principles designed to safeguard the realm from magical threats both overt and concealed."

Her voice, normally so cold and passionless, seemed almost stately here, the droning of a speaker who had delivered these same words many times before. There was a rhythm to it, as if she were reciting an oft-told litany.

"The powers at our command bring forth wonders that can inspire the imagination to greatness. However, uncontrolled, they can ravage lives and cities with equal ease. It was in recognition of this truth that the founders of the Magisterium codified the practices by which we now govern the use of magic."

As Ember listened, her attention was drawn not to the figure of Beatrix reciting the familiar history of Amaranth but to Valerian, seated just to Beatrix's left. His eyes moved about as well, finding each of the five women briefly before shifting, as though he were wary of their response—or perhaps, eager for it?

"It is a testament to their wisdom," Beatrix continued, "that these principles have seen us through over four centuries of history, unbroken and unchanged. What they sought to establish—a balance between liberty and protection, between innovation and oversight—remains the cornerstone of our enduring commitment to ensure magic serves not just a privileged few, but all the peoples of Amaranth."

She paused, her gaze falling again to the parchment, and in that silence, Ember felt an invisible weight settle over the room, as though all the momentous events of history were suddenly bearing down on them. She could almost hear the rustle of the founders moving about the room like ghosts in the background.

"And it is in that spirit that we of the Magisterium today continue their tradition—weighing your abilities against our established system of classification, testing the limits of that system as a metallurgist might test the temper of a newly forged blade."

It was Valerian who spoke next, his words overlapping with Beatrix's final ones as he launched into his own practiced speech, which Ember imagined must have been delivered under similar circumstances on countless other occasions.

"Under normal circumstances, this process culminates in assigning your power into one of our established magical classifications," Valerian said, his tone formal yet gentle. "This not only serves to verify that you do not pose an existential threat to Amaranth and its peoples but also aids in our understanding of your power, a necessary prerequisite for achieving the high levels of competency and control we expect of all the citizens of Amaranth—mages and non-mages alike."

His eyes flicked briefly to Ember. "While we cannot classify you under our current system, the spirit of our procedures still stands." He carefully took up one of the thick tomes from beside his chair. "We are charged with two duties here today. First, to officially inform you that your power is not a threat to Amaranth and its peoples. And second, to propose a new magical classification for your abilities which will address these... shortfalls in our current understanding."

Beatrix stood, taking up the parchment in her hand, letting it unroll a bit farther as she prepared to speak. But she hesitated as her eyes fell to the parchment, her mouth forming silent words as if she were rehearsing what came next.

"For nearly five hundred years, no magical form has eluded our classification system," Beatrix resumed a moment later, her speech faltering uncharacteristically. "The essence of our duty to Amaranth requires that we understand all magic—that we harness it so it might be wielded as a tool and not a scourge. To achieve this, we rely on systems. When these systems fail, we... adapt them."

Beatrix's eyes returned to the parchment in her hands.

"What I propose to this esteemed assembly, then, is a new category of power—a classification that has never been used before and, I wager, shall never be used again. If you are amenable to it, that is."

The five sister-selves traded looks of mingled surprise and curiosity.

A new classification? For them and them alone?

Kindle let out a huff of surprise. "So are you planning to explain this new classification, or just sit there making mysterious pronouncements?"

Beatrix let the hint of a smile touch her lips, the closest she'd ever come to such a gesture that Ember had seen.

"The proposed classification for you is... 'Exalted.'"

"Exalted?" Pyra echoed, eyebrows high on her forehead.

Ember felt her jaw fall slack, and she couldn't tell if she was more stunned or baffled. The others all wore similar expressions of shock.

"The word was chosen carefully." Beatrix continued. "It refers to power lifted high above all others—to something distinct and beyond mere classification. This is not a categorization, not a system, and certainly not a means to equate you with other magics." She let the parchment reroll in her hands, and her smile—nearly undetectable though it was—grew ever so slightly wider. "It is simply a statement of fact. Your power is exalted."

Pyra mumbled, "Exalted..." as if tasting the word.

Ember shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "That's a bit... lofty."

"And if we don't want the title?" Ash's tone was wary.

"I admit, I've never much cared for labels," Valerian began, "but to my mind, this one fits as well as any could."

"A rose by any other name," Galen offered, gesturing toward Ember and her sister-selves.

"My concern isn't whether it fits—it's what the Magisterium is agreeing to." Ash pressed. "If we accept this, are we committing to anything?"

Beatrix gave a simple, frank shrug. "Exalted status grants you unprecedented autonomy within Amaranth's magical community. No registration requirements, no periodic evaluations, no restrictions on power usage beyond basic civil law."

"So..." Pyra began, "total freedom?"

Beatrix nodded once. "Yes. You will have the right of self-determination, to do with your powers what you will within the bounds of the law. There is but one... two stipulations, but I trust you will not find them onerous."

"What are they?"

Beatrix folded her hands behind her back. "First, I've recommended to Kaelin Reed that the Adventurers' Guild promote you to a new rank: S-Rank—with the remit that this rank should only ever apply to you alone."

Cinder's eyes widened. "Wait. So we're going to officially be the strongest guild members in Amaranth?"

"In the realm. The guild has branches in other nations, or so I'm told."

"Reed was skeptical," Valerian interjected, "but it's hard to argue with Beatrix's assessment once you look at the details. You're already A-Rank, after all. Taking into account your, ah, completion rate and the difficulty of the missions you've accepted since arriving, well... your capabilities certainly justify the honor."

"The other stipulation," Beatrix resumed, "is merely a request, but a sincere one."

"And that is?"

"Cooperation. Should the Magisterium encounter phenomena similar to yours, we may request your assistance in understanding or managing the situation. In exchange, we'll extend to you any resources, information, and influence at our disposal. You'll be acting in an independent advisory capacity for the Magisterium, at your leisure, beholden to no one."

Pyra laughed nervously. "That's... a lot." She turned to her sister-selves, murmuring together.

The weight of what was being offered settled over them like a heavy cloak.

Not just freedom, but recognition. Not just autonomy, but respect. After months of being questioned, tested, and scrutinized, they were being invited to stand as equals among the most powerful magical authorities in the realm.

"We'd be..." Kindle started, then stopped, apparently overwhelmed by the implications.

"Free," Ember finished quietly. "Actually, truly free."

"More than free," Ash added, her philosophical mind already working through the ramifications. "We'd be acknowledged as something unique and valuable rather than something to be contained or controlled."

"It's everything we wanted when we first arrived," Cinder said, though her voice carried a note of disbelief. "And everything we didn't dare hope for."

After an extended silence, Ember looked up from their huddle. "We... accept?"

"Splendid," Beatrix replied, briskly returning to her seat. The others resumed their own discussion, Valerian and Galen leaning forward to speak earnestly with Beatrix, while Beatrix shuffled through a stack of pages and Heidi began transcribing their meeting.

"Well," Cinder mused aloud, "I didn't expect anything like that."

The understatement of the century, Ember thought, as the full magnitude of their new status began to sink in. They had come to Amaranth as refugees seeking answers. They were leaving as something unprecedented in the city's history: beings whose very existence had forced the most rigid magical authority in the known world to expand its understanding of what was possible.

Not bad for a morning's work.

As they walked through Amaranth's bustling streets afterward, official documents tucked safely in Ember's pack, there was an extra spring in their step and laughter more ready on their lips, buoyed by a sense of relief and newfound freedom.

"That was quite the meeting," Kindle remarked, striding easily alongside her sister-selves as they meandered toward nowhere in particular.

"You could say that again," Pyra agreed, grinning.

"I thought the Magisterium would take more convincing," Ash confessed.

"Me too, honestly." Ember brushed back a strand of flaming hair from her eyes, watching Amaranth's citizens go about their day, unaware of the seismic shifts occurring in the world of the magical elite. "But that was... I'm still not sure it was all real."

Kindle nodded. "The Magisterium. The Adventurers' Guild. They're all in agreement."

Pyra's smile broadened impishly. "S-Rank," she cooed, as though she were caressing the letters. "We're legendary."

Cinder rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Don't get a big head over this."

Ember snorted. "You're the one who almost crushed Beatrix's hand when you shook it."

"Admittedly, I was a bit overzealous."

"Overzealous? You gave her a death grip."

Cinder shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

Ember smiled. "I guess not, it was a pretty big moment."

"Pretty big?" Cinder exclaimed, throwing her arms out wide. "We went from being uncertain of our fate to becoming officially sanctioned heroes."

"I mean, sure, the Exalted thing could go to our heads..." Ember said, trailing off in thought, "but you've gotta admit, they made a pretty good sales pitch."

Ash tapped her bottom lip with a finger. "I'm still unclear on all the little details, but at first glance, it looks favorable."

Cinder grinned, looping an arm around Ash's shoulder. "If it's good enough for our favorite academic, then it's good enough for me."

Ash pulled away and ducked her head sheepishly. "It is good. I think."

Pyra clapped her on the shoulder. "Then let's celebrate!"

"We've earned a feast, at least," Cinder chimed in. "And some celebratory drinks."

Ember nodded. "A toast to Exaltedness, eh?"

"To the five Exalteds!" Kindle cried, brandishing a finger skyward.

"Technically, we're one Exalted," Ash corrected.

Kindle rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant."

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