Four days had passed since the sparring grounds. Four days of quiet routine—mornings in the training hall with Elara and Lyra, afternoons in Mana Theory and rune lectures, light combat training, and evenings in the study or my dorm. No watchers. No rifts tearing open. No Abyss crawling through cracks. Just normalcy—fragile, almost suspicious in its stillness.
Saturday morning broke clear and cold. I woke before the dawn bell, the basement room still dark, the mana-lamp flickering weakly overhead. Nyx rested on my chest—pulled from the ring in the night again. The egg was warm now, almost feverish, its obsidian surface smooth under my fingertips. The violet and blue veins pulsed slowly, thoughtfully, like a heartbeat that had found its rhythm. The crying had quieted to a soft, steady hum—but every few minutes it rose slightly, like a question. Like she was checking if I was still here.
I sat up carefully, the cot creaking. The headache from the backlash had finally faded completely. Colors were sharp again. Hands steady. The emotional recoil—that hollow, unreal feeling—had dulled to a faint echo, like a bruise you only notice when you press on it.
I placed Nyx back in the ring. The pulses continued—soft, constant—but the crying shifted, almost… watchful.
I dressed in silence—uniform rough against my skin, sleeves pulled down over the bandages that had finally stopped itching. The scars tugged with every movement, a dull, familiar ache. The cold in my mana was still there, but it felt… settled. Like it had accepted its place.
I headed out.
The training hall was quiet—Saturday mornings were always slower, only the dedicated few. Elara and Lyra were already waiting in our small side circle.
Elara noticed immediately. "You look much better."
Lyra tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "No more zombie face. Progress."
I smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine now."
We started—mana circulation first. Breathe. Feel the core. Let it flow.
Mine stirred—sluggish, icy, but smoother than before. The cold no longer felt like glass shards. More like frost on steel—sharp, but controlled. Elara's corrections were gentle, her silver threads guiding my flow. Lyra pushed my reflexes lightly—green orbs that hissed through the air.
I blocked. Missed less. Blocked again.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, salty on my lips. My arms burned—from effort, not poison. The cold in my mana eased, flowing smoother with each pass.
At the end, I leaned on my knees, chest heaving. "Better. Much better."
Elara lowered her hands. "Your flow is stabilizing. The cold is still there, but it's not fighting you anymore."
Lyra wiped her forehead. "And the gaze? You gonna test it today?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. The backlash was… rough. I want to be sure I can handle it without falling apart."
Elara nodded. "Wise. We'll train it slowly."
Lyra ruffled my hair. "Our glitch is growing up. Look at you—thinking before you act."
I laughed. "Shut up."
We continued—dagger drills next. Celestite Fang hummed in my grip, violet blade cutting clean arcs. Elara sparred with me—silver threads weaving shields, forcing me to adapt. Lyra joined—green orbs darting, testing my peripheral vision.
I dodged. Parried. Struck.
Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging. My breaths came sharp and fast.
Lyra grinned between strikes. "You're faster. Less hesitation."
Elara's voice was steady. "And your intent is clearer. The layering from Elowyn's class is helping."
I nodded, breathing hard. "Feels… natural now."
We finished—exhausted, but good exhausted. The kind that meant progress.
Rumors had settled into background noise over the last few days.
In Mana Theory, Professor Thorne watched me more closely after the fight—his gaze lingering longer than at the beginning of the classes. When he called on me, his voice was careful but different from before.
"Vale. We've discussed rift resonance. Now explain what happens when a core is forced to channel an affinity it was never designed for—such as an undefined core attempting to mimic a divine or void signature."
The room went quiet.
I met his eyes. "It overloads. The mana fights the core's natural structure. Pressure builds. Leaks become fractures. If the core can't adapt… it shatters. Or mutates. The affinity twists into something unstable—like a shadow trying to burn like light."
Prof. Thorne nodded slowly. "Correct. And the risk of mutation?"
"High. The core could permanently shift—gain unwanted traits, lose stability, or… invite something else in."
Prof. Thorne's staff tapped once against the floor. "Precisely. The line between adaptation and corruption is thin."
Celine glanced at me sideways. "You okay after the fight, you had a nosebleed—and looked.. yeah not normal?"
I glanced at her and nodded. "Better. Thank you for your concern."
Taren glared from the back and sneered "Just luck"
Then Prof. Thorne cleared his throat, voice carrying across the room with unusual gravity.
"One more announcement. All first-years will participate in a mandatory field trip starting Monday. Duration: one week. Departure at dawn, return the following Saturday. Destination: the Fractured Ruins of Elowen."
The room buzzed—but not with excitement. Unease.
"Ancient site. Rift echoes. Void history. Hidden dangers. This is not a leisure trip. It is training. Real training. Prepare yourselves. Some may not return unchanged."
Silence fell. Prof. Thorne's eyes swept the room—lingering on me for a heartbeat longer.
"Dismissed."
The class emptied quickly. I packed my things slowly, the announcement sinking in. A whole week away. Alone. No Elara. No Lyra.
I headed to the rune hall, mind racing.
Elara and Lyra were already waiting outside the door—Elara arms crossed, Lyra bouncing on her toes.
Lyra spotted me first. "There you are! We were starting to think you got lost in Thorne's lecture."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "You look… unsettled. What happened?"
I exhaled. "Prof. Thorne just announced a field trip. All first-years. Starts Monday. One week. Fractured Ruins of Elowen. We won't be back until Saturday."
Lyra's eyes widened. "A whole week? Without us?"
Elara's expression tightened slightly. "The Fractured Ruins… that's a dangerous place. Rift echoes. Void history. Thorne wouldn't take first-years there unless he has a reason."
I nodded. "He called it a training excursion. But… hidden dangers. I'll be alone."
Lyra crossed her arms. "Not alone-alone. You'll have the other first-years. But yeah… no us. That's weird."
Elara placed a hand on my arm. "We'll talk to Prof. Thorne. Maybe third-years can join as supervisors. If not… you'll be fine. You've handled worse."
Lyra grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "And if anything goes wrong, just use the gaze on the ruins. Maybe they'll crack like Taren and give you treasure."
I laughed despite myself. "Thanks. Really."
We entered the rune hall. Professor Elowyn raised an eyebrow at the three of us.
Lyra just grinned at her.
Prof. Elowyn just sighed. "Sit down you lot."
The lesson focused on layered intent amplification under pressure. Prof. Elowyn introduced a new challenge—moving targets (floating orbs) while layering runes.
"Stability under stress," she said. "One mistake, and the rune collapses."
I stepped into the circle when called.
Last time, my layers had been shaky.
Today, they held stronger—intent focused, mana flowing cold but steady. I layered—once, twice, three times—while dodging orbs. The shield shimmered, stable, solid. It held against three strikes before flickering.
Prof. Elowyn watched me. "Much better. Your core is still cold. But the layers are holding even under pressure. impressive." before glaring in Lyra's direction "more trainable than some other students here in class"
Lyra hid behind Elara. "Scary."
A small smile crept over my lips as Lyra hid from Prof. Elowyn's glare.
Prof. Elowyn dismissed the Class.
Combat training that afternoon was lighter—drills, not full fights. No one-on-one. Just forms, mana flow, dagger work.
Taren avoided me—eyes burning, but silent.
Riven and Lena clapped me on the back. "You showed him!"
Evening came.
We gathered as usual in the study—Elara at the desk, Lyra on the floor, me in the armchair. Nyx rested on the table, pulsing softly, her faint cry shifting every few minutes like she was listening.
I glanced between them. "Did you ask… Professor Thorne about joining the field trip..as supervisors?."
Lyra's glanced at me. "We asked him about it during combat class. After drills. Elara went straight up to him—'Can third-years join as supervisors?'"
Elara's expression tightened. "He looked at me like I'd asked something stupid. Said 'No.' Just that. No explanation. No reason. Just 'No.'"
Lyra crossed her arms. "He didn't even blink. Like it was personal. Weird, right?"
Elara shrugged, with a uneasy smile. "Typical Thorne. Mysterious big brother mode. But don't worry. You'll be fine. You're tougher than you think."
I stared at the table. "A whole week alone. Without you two. In ruins tied to the Void. Hidden dangers. And Prof. Thorne won't let anyone else come."
Elara's hand rested on my shoulder—firm, grounding. "You'll be fine. You're stronger than you think. But… his refusal felt off."
I laughed weakly. "Thanks. Really. I just… I don't want to drag you into something I can't control."
Elara's voice was firm. "You're not dragging us. We're choosing this. Remember?"
I nodded, throat tight. "Yeah."
Lyra grinned. "And if the Abyss comes knocking, we kick its ass. Even if we're not there, we'll be waiting when you get back."
Elara's grip tightened slightly. "We'll be right here when you get back. And if anything feels off… find a way to signal us."
I smiled, throat tight. "Thanks. Really."
I looked at them—and felt the ache in my chest ease.