I wake up to the unwelcome sight of a familiar face.

“Hello Poxen,” I say to my teacher. “How long was I out?”

“Only a couple of hours.”

I can tell from his voice that I’m in for it. He has a lecture all ready for me.

“What the Hell were you doing, Aldain? Do you know how much the Mistress has invested in you? Are you so eager to throw away my teachings? You know magical secrets otherwise reserved for the most powerful of Elders, you stupid brat. Don’t even tell me what nonsensical magical experiment it was that you’d left running this time. I don’t want to hear it!”

I try to answer, but he plows on ahead.

“You attacked six A-boats while running at less than half power? And used an untested technique?”

His statements are facts, but thoroughly infused with disbelief. This is the sign for me to explain. Normally I’d give a detailed explanation of my motives, throwing up justifications that he would quickly tear down. But this time I know he’s right. I should have snuffed out my newborn universe, reabsorbing the magic spent on its creation. Had I done that, even the unexpected drain from the dracoform wouldn’t have mattered.

So I don’t waste time on explaining, I answer with a factual statement: “My tactics enabled me to complete the task with zero civilian casualties.”

Poxen snorts. “No excuses today. Maybe you are capable of learning.”

I try to get myself out of the bed, but Poxen stops me.

“Oh no you don’t, lad. You’re staying right here for at least 24 hours. The medical staff will make sure you rest and eat, something you’ll need to do if you’re going to bring us back to Earth two days from now. And I know you won’t get much of either food or rest if I leave you to your own devices.”

I sigh. He’s right. My hubris and my stupidity have cost me valuable research time. But these things happen. I resolve to be cognizant of this incident in the future.

Poxen leaves me and I drift back into sleep.