Maya qualified with conditions. Mistress Denna announced their results this morning. He remembered the exact words she had used
"Maya Thornfield advances with consideration, pending review of conduct during the dueling exhibition."
The words had hung in the air. Her outburst in the duel had cost more than composure. It showed something the academy wasn't ready to ignore.
Ethan kept his eyes on her. She stood tall, chin tilted up. Daring anyone to say more. He caught what others missed - the way shadows around her bent wrong when she got angry. Shadow magic doesn't sleep, not when its bearer's been hurt.
After the results announcement, the Academy announced a ball for the evening and he had worn the only celebratory clothes in his box.
As students danced and discussed that evening, Ethan sensed someone behind him. He turned slightly.
Master Donovan. Gray hair messy as always. Familiar slouch meant to look harmless. But those storm-colored eyes locked on Ethan.
"Ethan Cole," he said. Soft but firm. "A word, if you would."
They stepped into an alcove off the main hall. Not random. Donovan never did random. Ethan was sure he picked this spot for a reason. He'd forgotten how deliberate Donovan could be. Or maybe he just hadn't seen it clearly back when he was actually sixteen.
"Your performance today was remarkable," Donovan said. Hands folded behind his back. "Especially the footwork during your match with Mistress Denna."
"Thank you, Master Donovan." Ethan kept it even. "I've been training since I was little."
"Of course." Donovan sounded unconvinced. "Still... the stance. The way you plant your left foot. The shoulder turn when you shift between defense and offense. It's distinct."
He moved around Ethan slightly. Nothing obvious, but Ethan knew he was being studied. The academy carried on around them. Laughter. Distant voices. Shoes against stone. Here in their quiet corner, the world narrowed to just them.
"Tell me," Donovan said. Tone gentler now. Like a mentor trying not to push too hard. "Who taught you the Valorian Guard position?"
Ethan froze. That name. That stance. Donovan had taught it to him himself, just not yet. One of those secret lessons they used to share before everything fell apart. Before his execution. Not many knew the technique, but those who did remembered it.
"I... I don't recognize that name," Ethan said. Trying to sound puzzled. "My father showed me some swordwork when I was younger. Maybe I figured the stance out over time."
Donovan's eyes flicked. Brief. Enough to make Ethan's pulse jump.
"Naturally." He repeated the word like trying it on for size. "It's not common to stumble into. The Valorian Guard is precise. Refined. A product of military design, not backyard practice."
Silence settled between them. Ethan felt sweat slide down his neck.
"Perhaps," Donovan said, tone shifting, "you trained with someone. A former soldier, maybe? Someone who knew what they were doing."
Ethan grabbed the excuse immediately.
"That could be it," he said quickly. "There were veterans in our village who checked on my father. Sometimes saw me practicing. Gave me lessons."
Donovan nodded slowly. His eyes didn't budge.
"Makes sense. Retired guardsmen often teach the young ones. Still... your form today had the polish you only get after a lot of years"
He didn't say it out loud, but Ethan heard it clear as day. He was just sixteen and that level of instinct shouldn't be there.
"I've always learned fast," Ethan said.
"I don't doubt it." The ghost of a smile, but not reassuring. "We'll see just how fast. The advanced cohort won't make things easy."
He turned and walked away. Ethan could still feel the weight of his attention hanging behind him.
By the time Ethan reached the hall's edge, his hands had started shaking.
That conversation rattled him more than he wanted to admit. If Donovan somehow had or hear pieces of who he was, who he used to be, it could blow everything apart.
**********
The celebration didn't feel like one. They said the wine was from Tidehaven's best vineyards, but it tasted like dust to Ethan. Students gathered in clusters. Voices low. Faces flickering between excitement and nervousness. Some were already drunk on victory. Others stayed quiet, holding pride with stiff grins.
Ethan moved through the room. Answering questions where he had to. Smiling just enough to not stand out. All he could think about was Donovan. That moment in the alcove and that quiet suspicion.
Donovan hadn't pushed, but he hadn't let go either.
Eventually, Ethan found Maya near one of the tall windows. She was alone.
Torchlight played off the red in her hair, but nothing soft about her stance. Arms crossed. Back stiff. When their eyes met, she looked away fast. Jaw set hard.
She was keeping her distance.
The duel had shaken her. That much was obvious. Her magic had slipped. Gone too far. Whatever it revealed spooked her. Now she was retreating. The way people do when the world punishes them for being seen too clearly.
Ethan stayed back. Just watching.
Caught between two quiet storms. Donovan's careful watching. Maya's silent retreat.
Both mattered. Both could explode if handled wrong. Trying to fix one might make the other worse.
The party went on without him. Laughter. Raised voices. Occasional bursts of applause. It all felt far away.
He was carrying too much. Too much he couldn't explain. Too many lies to keep straight.
Every word felt measured. Every glance. Every choice.
He wasn't just playing a part. He was living on a thread.
The evening reminded him how easy it would be to fall.
Around him, new Academy students celebrated their acceptance. Their futures spread before them like blank pages. Clean. Full of possibility.
Ethan envied them.
His page was likely written already. Every line marked with blood and failure. He was trying to erase it all with nothing but willpower and borrowed time.
Maya shifted by the window. Her reflection caught in the glass looked fragile. Like something that might break if touched wrong. In his old life, he'd watched that fragility harden into armor. Watched her learn to hide the parts of herself that hurt.
He wanted to go to her to say something. Just anything.
But that was too desperate, he had to wait and study how this world will pan out for now.
A burst of laughter drew his attention. Prince Alexander stood near the fireplace, surrounded by admirers. His violet eyes caught the light as he smiled. Perfect prince. Perfect performance.
But Ethan saw the shadows clinging to his edges.
Two people fighting battles no one else could see. Maya and Alexander.
Two people he might need as allies.
Two people who might destroy him if they learned the truth.
The wine turned bitter on his tongue. He set down his cup and headed for the door.
Outside, the academy grounds stretched under starlight. Stone paths wound between towers and training yards. Everything looked peaceful. Normal.
It was an illusion.
Ethan could feel the rot starting. Deep in the foundation. In the people and in the very air they breathed.
The demons were already here. Already working.
Yet he was one sixteen-year-old boy with too many secrets and not enough time.
The weight of it pressed down on him.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Soft footsteps.
Ethan turned.
Maya stood in the doorway. Torchlight from inside made her a silhouette against the warm glow.
"Couldn't take the celebration either?" she asked.
Her voice was steady, but Ethan heard the question underneath. The same restlessness he felt. The same sense that something was wrong with this place.
"Too loud," he said.
She stepped outside. The door closed behind her, cutting off the sounds of the party.
"You fought well today," Maya said. "That stance you used. I've never seen it before."
Another question. Another probe.
"Just something I picked up," Ethan replied.
She nodded. Didn't push. But her golden eyes stayed on him.
"The prince fought well too," she said after a moment.
"Yes."
"Almost too well."
The words hung between them, and Ethan met her gaze. "What do you mean?"
Maya was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I see and feel things sometimes. The shadows tell me stories I don't always want to hear."
She looked back at the academy doors. At the light spilling through the windows.
"This place feels wrong," she said. "Like something's hiding underneath all the polish and tradition."
Ethan's heart hammered. She was so close to the truth.
"Maybe it's just nerves," he said. "First day and all."
Maya shook her head. "It's more than that."
She turned back to him. In the starlight, her eyes seemed to glow.
"You feel it too. I can tell."
Dangerous ground. Every word was a risk.
"I don't know what you mean," Ethan said.
Maya studied his face. Looking for cracks in his mask.
"Maybe not," she said finally. "But if you ever do... if you ever need someone who understands what it's like to carry dangerous things..."
She let the offer hang in the air.
Then she walked back inside. Left him alone with the stars in the night sky and the weight of everything he couldn't say.
Ethan stayed outside until the party ended. Until the last voices faded and the last lights went out.
Tomorrow, classes would begin and the real test would start.
But tonight, for just a moment, he'd felt less alone.
Maya saw the shadows and felt the wrongness.
Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to carry this burden by himself.
The thought was dangerous. Hoping was dangerous.
But as Ethan finally headed inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change.