The brittle silence from the cafeteria clung to us like cobwebs as Kael led the way into the familiar stone combat arena. Dust motes danced in shafts of late afternoon light slicing through the high windows. The rhythmic thud of practice swords and grunts from other sparring pairs echoed off the vaulted walls. Kael stopped in a clear corner, his presence instantly carving out space. "Pair up. Adam, Raven. Wren. You're with me."
I felt a flicker of relief. Sparring Raven felt manageable, predictable. Watching Wren face Kael felt like watching a candle approach a hurricane. Raven merely nodded, drawing a wooden practice dagger, his grey eyes already dissecting my stance, cool and analytical.
Wren squared up to Kael, hazel eyes narrowed, the cafeteria outrage now honed into a sharp, focused challenge. "Alright, Ghost," he said, voice tight. "What *is* your ability? All you do is hit hard and watch. What's your trick?"
Kael stood utterly relaxed, hands loose at his sides. No weapon. "Tell you if you beat me," he replied, the faintest edge of challenge slicing through his flat tone.
Wren's grin was all teeth. "Deal." He didn't wait. A lightning-fast double tap to his own chest – muscles visibly tightened, cords standing out in his neck, a predatory readiness flooding his posture. *Speed. Strength.* He exploded forward in a deceptive zigzag, feinted high with a jab, then whipped a vicious hook towards Kael's kidney. Kael shifted, a minimal twist of his torso that let the fist whistle past harmlessly. Wren spun instantly into a blurring back kick aimed squarely at Kael's head. Kael leaned back with unnerving smoothness, the kick passing inches from his face, the displaced air the only evidence of its force.
Frustration tightened Wren's jaw. He accelerated, becoming a hummingbird of aggression, unleashing a relentless barrage – jabs, crosses, low kicks, elbows – targeting every perceived blind spot and angle. Kael moved with infuriating, minimal economy: a precise sidestep, a subtle duck, a controlled pivot. Each evasion was flawless, leaving Wren's powerful blows striking only empty air. Kael wasn't countering; he was mapping, forcing Wren to burn fuel at a reckless rate.
"Stand still!" Wren snapped, breathing harder. His fist clenched. This time, his hand glowed, a distinct, pulsing orange light emanating from his palm. He lunged, not for a strike, but aiming to *touch* Kael's chest.
Kael's hand shot out faster than sight. Not to strike, but to clamp Wren's wrist like a steel vise, stopping the glowing palm a hair's breadth from his tunic. Wren gasped. The vibrant orange glow around his hand didn't just dim; it *guttered*, like a flame violently starved of oxygen. Energy visibly drained away, sucked into Kael's grip.
My breath caught. *He's draining him?*
Kael held the wrist immobile. With his free hand, he touched his own chest. The same pulsing orange glow, unmistakably siphoned from Wren, flared fiercely around Kael's fingertips, then surged across his torso like liquid fire. I *felt* the shift, a sudden, palpable wave of amplified energy radiating from Kael – denser, sharper, more focused than Wren's own frantic output.
Kael released the wrist. He didn't stand still anymore. He became motion incarnate. A streak of terrifyingly controlled violence. His speed now eclipsed Wren's buffed state. Where Wren had been the darting hummingbird, Kael was the stooping hawk.
The reversal was brutal and instant. Wren, eyes wide with shock at the sudden theft of his power, was hammered onto pure, desperate defense. Kael's strikes, still open-handed, but carrying the crushing force of Wren's own stolen strength and speed, slammed against Wren's guard. A forearm block sent a jarring shockwave of pain up Wren's arm. A low kick swept his legs; only frantic, off-balance scrambling kept him upright. He backpedaled wildly, parrying, blocking, utterly unable to find a millisecond to retaliate. Kael pressed with relentless, amplified fury.
I watched, mesmerized and horrified. Raven had paused his own stance opposite me, a rare, sharp smirk of dark amusement touching his lips as he observed Kael's absolute dominance.
Wren's movements lost cohesion. His buffs were visibly faltering faster than they should under mere pressure, his stolen power feeding his own downfall. Panic flared in his eyes. He tried to tap his own chest again for a desperate surge, but Kael's assault was a suffocating wall, denying him any opening.
Then Kael struck. Not with a blow, but a touch. As Wren desperately raised his arms against a high feint, Kael's left hand darted snake-quick past his flailing guard and pressed flat against Wren's sternum. The stolen orange glow flared blindingly bright around Kael's hand.
Wren cried out, a raw sound of shock and sudden, profound weakness. He stumbled back, his movements instantly leaden, clumsy. His shoulders slumped dramatically, his breathing became ragged, shallow gasps. He looked *emptied*. Not just exhausted, but fundamentally *less*. Slower. Weaker. His connection to his own power felt thin, frayed, distant.
Kael advanced, an unstoppable force. Wren raised his arms in a feeble block, but they moved with agonizing slowness, trembling violently. He had no defense left. Kael drew back his fist, the stolen power humming dangerously around it like a contained storm. He drove it forward in a straight, killing-line punch aimed squarely at Wren's face.
I instinctively stepped forward, a protest dying on my lips, helpless.
The punch stopped. Dead. Inches from Wren's nose. The amplified energy around Kael's fist vanished instantly, snuffed out.
Wren stared, wide-eyed, chest heaving, feeling hollowed out and exposed. He slowly lowered his useless, trembling arms. He looked from Kael's impassive face to his own hands, then back, disbelief warring with dawning horror in his hazel eyes.
"You," Wren breathed, the word scraping out raw. He swayed, barely staying upright. "You have the same ability as me. But... *how*?"
A ghost of a smile touched Kael's lips. His free hand moved, seemingly plucking something unseen from the air beside his hip, and returned holding a small, perfectly round crystal. It was clear quartz, but pulsed with a deep, internal orange light that slowly faded to a dull, ember-like glow. He held it up for Wren, and for Raven and me to see.
"You pushed me," Kael acknowledged, his voice low and devoid of triumph. "I absorbed your ability. That's all. I store its pattern in this crystal." He pocketed the crystal with unnerving smoothness. "Only a little of your core mana was absorbed to fuel the process and the subsequent usage." He gestured dismissively at Wren's drained state. "Sit. Watch. Raven will see to the bruises. Then you'll switch places."
Wren blinked, flexing his hands, feeling the slight drain – more like deep fatigue and a temporary dampening than true, permanent loss. "You... absorbed it? With a *rock*?" Annoyance flared hot, replacing the horror. "Just... *took* it?"
"Absorbed. Contained. Utilized," Kael corrected flatly. "The crystal holds the ability's pattern. The little mana used? Consider it the activation cost." He looked pointedly towards Raven.
Raven's earlier smirk was gone, replaced by cold, analytical assessment. He moved swiftly, guiding Wren towards the stone benches lining the arena wall. Wren slumped heavily against the cool stone, annoyance rapidly replacing devastation as Raven's practical nature took over. Raven grasped Wren's forearms, where deep, angry bruises from blocking Kael's amplified strikes were already darkening the skin. Soft green light emanated from Raven's hands, sinking into the bruised flesh, knitting strained muscle fibers and easing the bone-deep ache with practiced efficiency. Wren kept his eyes fixed on Kael, annoyance hardening into sharp resentment as Raven worked.
Kael turned his dark, unnerving gaze fully on me. He picked up two wooden practice swords from a nearby rack, tossing one towards me with deceptive ease. "Adam. Now. No fire. Just form. Awareness. See *everything*." He settled into a ready stance, the wooden sword an extension of his lethal calm. "Begin."
I caught the sword, its familiar weight suddenly immense, charged with new meaning. I looked at Kael, the enigma now terrifyingly clear. The crystal. The absorption. The silent observation wasn't just scrutiny; it was predatory assessment, a hunter cataloging potential prey or tools. Across the arena, Raven finished his work on Wren's bruises. The brothers now sat side-by-side on the bench, Raven's gaze icy and analytical, Wren nursing his physical bruises and the slight, unnerving drain on his energy core, both watching intently, waiting for their turn to switch roles. Kael's eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto mine, promising lessons forged in confrontation, paid for in absorbed power. I raised my own sword, Storm chirping a sharp, anxious warning from the bench beside the twins. The path to strength, it seemed, was paved with stolen light and guarded by ghosts. I took a steadying breath, the weight of Kael's gaze heavy upon me. "Begin."
From the deep shadow of an archway leading out of the arena, unnoticed by any of us, Garrick watched the tense standoff between Kael and me. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face as his eyes lingered on Kael's focused intensity, the lethal readiness that hadn't been fully present before. He murmured softly, almost to himself, the sound lost in the echoes of distant combat, "Thank you, Adam... for finally breaking him out of his shell." With a final, approving glance at the scene – me facing the abyss of Kael's power, the drained and resentful twins watching – Garrick turned and melted soundlessly back into the corridor, leaving the heavy weight of Kael's chilling revelation and the promise of brutal lessons hanging thick in the air.