The headmaster leaned over the railing, his eyes narrowing at the boy who shouldn't have survived. "Your score hasn't changed, boy. It’s still a 2.9."

Leo didn't answer. He felt the same as he always did: heavy, slow, and perpetually out of sync with the frantic rhythm of the world. While other students were practicing lightning-fast "Act-Surges"—bursts of magical or physical speed—Leo struggled to even summon the will to run for the bus.

"It has to be a glitch," his roommate, Silas, said, though he instinctively took a half-step back, as if Leo’s lack of kinetic energy might be contagious.

Leo looked up, a small, tired smile on his face. "I know. It turns out, when you stop trying to act on the world, the world stops being able to hit you back."