Veylan's gaze lingered on the departing upper-tier students. When they disappeared through the protective wards, he turned to Ryn and Sylis, voice calm, precise.
"Observing sharpens skill. Discipline keeps it steady. Composure carries it forward. Someone's always watching, even when you think you're alone."
Ryn waved a hand, smirking, though the corners of her eyes betrayed a trace of thought. "Watching's boring. Doing is what matters."
Sylis remained silent, letting his stance speak. He scanned the arena, noting small patterns left behind in the stone from the simulation. "Every strike leaves a trace. They watch to see how well we handle the chaos, not to compliment us."
Veylan inclined his head once, almost imperceptibly. "And that's the same for every student here, from Initiates to Masters. We refine ourselves quietly—survival, not applause."
Down in the lower-tier training grounds, the morning sun glinted off the stone courtyards. Kara's team gathered at the edge of the sparring field, but Drake lingered slightly apart, arms loose at his sides. His thoughts weren't on the exercises today—they were on yesterday. On Veylan. On how quickly the fight had ended, how every move he'd attempted had been anticipated, countered, nullified.
Kara noticed his distance and stepped over, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. "You've been quiet," she said.
Drake exhaled slowly, flexing his hands. "Just thinking. About yesterday. About him. Where I slipped… where I got outplayed."
Kara's eyes softened, but she didn't flinch from his intensity. "It's one fight. Doesn't make you weak. It just shows where you need to adjust."
He gave a faint nod, jaw tight. "Yeah… I just… I keep replaying it. Every time I thought I had an opening, it wasn't there. He saw it coming before I did."
Luna approached, her glow subtle but comforting. "It's okay to think about it. You don't have to forget what happened. Just… don't let it freeze you. Learn, then move forward."
Drake glanced at her, then Kara. "I know. I just… I don't want to be caught like that again. Not next time. Not ever."
Kara's grip tightened briefly, a wordless show of support. "You won't be. You'll adjust. You'll adapt. And you won't be alone."
Drake exhaled again, letting some tension leave his shoulders. He flexed his fingers, feeling the muscles in his arms and core. "Right. I'll keep moving. I'll figure it out."
The team spread across the courtyard. Drake joined in, but this time he focused on his own timing, his spacing, his reactions—small corrections, careful pacing, awareness sharpening with every step. Fatigue set in quickly, but each swing, each block felt more precise.
By midday, he paused, letting his eyes sweep over Kara's team moving in seamless rhythm. He couldn't erase yesterday, but he could build from it. Adaptation, awareness, composure—these weren't lessons Kara or Luna had to explain. They were his to take, his to master.
He wandered toward the sunlit courtyard, ducking under the shadows of tall stone arches. Somewhere, the kitchen smoke curled into the air, carrying the smell of roasting bread and herbs. Drake picked up a piece of bread, biting absently, while letting his mind wander over yesterday's fight. Not the "lessons" of it—just the moments: where he hesitated, the slight lag before a strike landed, how the timing felt wrong when Veylan shifted.
Kara and Luna were laughing quietly on a bench, Xander leaning against a wall with his usual detached watchfulness. Elara scribbled in her journal, completely absorbed. Drake didn't join them. He didn't need to. He just let his eyes drift, scanning the edges of the courtyard, noting the way the sunlight hit the stones, the small flinch of a bird startled by a passing student.
He noticed the eastern archives doors, slightly ajar. A faint line of blue warding glimmered, half-hidden in the shadow of the archway. Someone had been there.
Curiosity pricked him. Without thinking, Drake headed toward it, Kara at his side, Luna following silently. The others stayed back, trusting their instinct to follow without a word.
At the doors, he crouched, inspecting the faint magical traces. Not standard practice wards. Complex. Precise. Intentional.
He motioned toward a side path that avoided the main wards. "Careful," he murmured.
The team spread along the walls, moving silently. Drake's eyes flicked to every shadow, every shimmer of light along the edges of the protective magic. He didn't think about yesterday anymore, not directly. He only noticed patterns, signals, and possibilities.
The fissure had been subtle at first—an almost imperceptible line splitting the stone beneath the academy's eastern courtyard. But then it widened, jagged edges fracturing, pale blue light shimmering along the cracks. Dust fell in slow clouds, and the air carried a faint metallic tang, sharp enough to make their teeth ache.
Drake's eyes narrowed, scanning every shadow, every glint along the edges of the protective wards. He could feel the energy pulsing from the rift, irregular, unpredictable—but not entirely chaotic. Something alive thrummed beneath the surface.
Kara's brow furrowed. She glanced at the others, her hand flexing at her side. "This doesn't feel… normal," she murmured.
Luna stepped back, her eyes wide. "Drake… I don't think we should—"
Drake moved without hesitation, placing himself slightly in front of her. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on the portal. "We stick together," he said quietly, firm but not loud. "Whatever's in there, we face it together. I've got you."
Luna hesitated, her fingers twitching, but she nodded. Trusting him—or maybe clinging to the certainty that he'd shield her if things went wrong.
Xander's expression was neutral, though he gave a short shrug. "Well… we'll see what's inside," he muttered.
Kara's eyes flicked to Drake, then the portal. She didn't speak. Her nod was enough.
The moment they stepped forward, the world shifted. Sound bent, light fractured, and the air thickened. It carried a mix of damp stone, ozone, and an underlying earthy scent. The ground beneath them twisted; when they tried to gauge depth, they realized the portal had swallowed up space itself.
When the vertigo passed, they were standing on jagged stone, looking out across a fractured canyon that stretched farther than the eye could follow. Rivers of molten rock snaked through the terrain, sending heat and sparks into the air. Wind howled in chaotic currents, whipping debris around like blades.
"This isn't… magic," Kara muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "This is… nature gone rogue."
Drake's fists clenched. Every lesson, every trial he'd endured flashed in his mind. Patterns of attack, signs of movement, instinctive positioning—they were useless if he didn't adapt to this. He inhaled sharply, letting the heat of the canyon and the raw chaos fuel a single thought: we survive, we learn, we move forward.
The first minor creatures emerged from shadows cast by the jagged cliffs. They were squat, fast, and aggressive, with armored hides that reflected the light in erratic flashes. They lunged in groups, testing, probing, striking.
Drake reacted automatically, intercepting a creature leaping toward Luna. He rolled, letting a chunk of fractured stone rise between them, and the monster slammed against it with a sharp clang. Luna's exhale of relief brushed past him. He didn't smile—there was no time—but the weight of responsibility settled heavier on his shoulders.
Kara took the lead in suppressing the smaller creatures, moving like liquid fire. Xander and Elara flanked, covering her angles and helping push the aggressors back. Luna stayed close to the group, healing minor scrapes and stabilizing their footing where the terrain became treacherous.
Hours—or maybe only minutes, time was meaningless here—passed in a tense rhythm of movement and observation. Every fallen rock, sudden burst of wind, and scorched patch of earth was a hazard. Every encounter, no matter how minor, tested their reflexes and coordination.
By the time the sun—or whatever passed for it here—shifted overhead, they had cleared the first stretch of canyon, battered but intact. Drake paused, letting his eyes sweep over the team as they moved in synchrony, though wary, alert.