The day was warm, a rare occurrence in the stone halls of the Academy, where drafts and icy runes usually kept the air cool and dead. As the sun sank behind the spires, the students hurried to their rooms, chatting, yawning, and laughing. It had been a long day, but not too long.
Kallen straightened his collar and was about to step into the dining room when the door clanged open and he entered.
Classroom teacher.
Helmir Saen was as tall as a nail in a coffin, with gray hair combed back and eyes the color of dried blood. His robes were the color of dried bones, and they smelled of sulfur and dry darkness. Even the dishes in the dining room seemed to stop moving in his presence.
Everyone fell silent.
"Disciples," he said, quietly, but in a way that made his voice go through their skin. "An order from the Academy Council. In three days... you will go to Wildcrane."
Some of them dropped their utensils. Kalen raised an eyebrow.
"Is this a city?" Asked one of the students
Helmir narrowed his eyes, as if deciding whether to waste his words on him.
"Voldkrane is not a city, Kalen. It is... a curse that flies."
He took a step forward. The light behind him went out of itself.
"The Waldkran floats above the clouds. It cannot be seen from the ground. It moves in a circle above the southern mountains and feeds on the core of an ancient epheotic mechanism. The air there is... poisonous. But you must be trained. You will wear masks. You will be placed in a vault. And you..." he chuckled, "will see something that should not exist."
One of the students swallowed nervously. Kalen just frowned.
Helmir continued, looking straight at him:
"The towers of Waldkran grow like rotting teeth. Magic gurgles from their walls, as murky as blood in a puddle after a ritual. Hybrid alloys of epheots and fictions are created there. Rune whispers written in languages even the gods have forgotten.
"Are we going on a... tour?" someone muttered from the back of the room.
"No," Helmir chuckled. "You'll be part of an experiment. And you might be asked to... work. Don't ask who. Don't ask why. If you survive, you'll be promoted."
Kallen glanced at Reyna. She was looking at the teacher calmly, almost... with interest.
— What are your questions?
No one raised a hand.
"Excellent. Three days. Pack your things. Clothes, books, mana reserves. If you have a breathing spell, activate it. If not, get a filtering amulet from the apothecary. Those who are not ready are not required to go. Just... don't come back." He chuckled. "The Academy doesn't like cowards."
Helmir Saen disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.
The room was silent. It smelled of fried meat, fear, and excitement.
Kalen said quietly:
— Fuck. I'm just getting used to sleeping for three hours, and now I have a flying city.
Reyna turned around:
— Are you interested?"
"Me? No. I just... I want to know how deep the rot goes."
She smiled, softly.
"Then you'll like Wildcrane."
***
Night. The moon hung low, struggling to penetrate the Academy's magical dome. Kalen stood in the backyard, where the old training field had long been abandoned, and no one ventured there unless necessary. Dust, silence, and darkness provided the perfect setting.
He stripped off his shirt, leaving himself in a simple pair of workout underwear. The veins in his arms were throbbing, and he was breathing heavily. On his back, barely visible in the dim light, a Shadow tattoo breathed. Extended version. Almost in the shape of a sprawled dragon, ready to rip the skin from the inside out.
"All right, you bastard," Kallen breathed hoarsely. "Let's see what I'm capable of now."
He pulled out his training sword and took off.
Ten laps around the perimeter. Fifteen kilometers. He didn't count anymore. His heart was pounding in his ears, his lungs were burning, but he didn't stop. Fatigue had long become a background noise, as familiar as a scar on his palm. A shadow rustled in the darkness behind him—a Ward summoned from the void. A black knight with red lines on his armor silently followed him like a shadow at his back.
After the round, he did push-ups. One hundred and fifty. Blood oozed from his palms, but Kalen didn't notice. Then he did abdominal exercises. Then he stood in combat mode and started working with Ward.
"Attack," he ordered.
The shadow moved without words. The sword in her hand was heavier than Kallen's, and her movements were slow but unyielding. Each strike was like a guillotine, and Kallen struggled to dodge them.
The training lasted an hour. Then two. Then...
He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his chest as if it wanted to burst out.
And then… she came.
The Rhine.
Silent, as always. In black, with scarlet eyes that flashed in the darkness.
"You train at night when no one can see. Why?"
He didn't look up.
"Because if I stop, I'll be devoured by that... thing inside." He exhaled heavily. "You can hear it too, can't you? Your Shadow?"
She nodded.
— Yes. But mine isn't like that. It... absorbs everything. And sound. And light.
Kalen chuckled.
— Beautiful. Mine just yells.
Reina came closer, then stopped.
"Your Shadow has changed. It's a dragon, Kalen. It's rare. But... it's also a curse."
"All I have is a curse," he said quietly, his voice trembling with anger. "But I won't give up. No matter what."
She looked at him, tilting her head slightly.
"Then you'll survive in Wildcrane."
He stood up, swaying, and leaned on his sword. Ward had already disappeared.
"We're going there tomorrow. Do you think anyone will come back?"
"I'm sure," Reina said calmly. "I think you'll stay. Even if you die."
He chuckled briefly.
"You're a nice fucking conversationalist, of course."
Reyna smiled.
— I'm trying.
They stood in silence for a long time. The moon was floating above them, and shadows were creeping below. Somewhere far away, carriages were already gathering.