By morning, the air around the Academy felt different. Heavier. Still. As if even the wind had learned to listen.
The decree came through the announcement crystals at the crack of dawn. Each dormitory and hallway thrummed faintly with the Academy Master's voice — calm but firm, carrying an authority that left no room for question.
"By order of the Academy Master, all access to the Dungeon Towers is suspended until further notice. No student is to enter the depths. Violators will face immediate expulsion."
The message faded, leaving silence behind. But silence never stayed quiet for long — not in a place like this. Whispers spread like fire.
Asher sat at the edge of the courtyard, his gaze unfocused on the morning light slanting through the trees. He hadn't slept; the black circles beneath his eyes made that clear. His thoughts drifted aimlessly, looping through echoes that refused to quiet.
Soon, my echo will have a shape again…
He exhaled through his nose — steady, but tired.
Kael dropped onto the bench beside him, spinning a practice blade between his fingers. "You look like death, man."
"Maybe death looks like him," Ronan muttered from behind his book. He leaned against a pillar, his sword hanging loosely by his waist.
Selene crossed her arms. "Don't tease him. You've heard the announcement," she said, sitting beside Kael.
"Yeah, yeah." Kael sighed. "No dungeon runs. No training sessions. So what now? Sit around polishing our weapons or cleaning our rooms? There aren't going to be any lessons for two weeks."
Iris gripped her staff gently. "If the Master made the decree, it must be important. Maybe it's actually dangerous for us students."
Asher hadn't spoken once. His attention stayed fixed on the faint reflections in the courtyard fountain — ripples twisting and reshaping the light. He watched them as though waiting for a pattern to reveal itself.
Selene noticed. Her tone softened. "Asher."
He blinked once, turning slowly toward her.
"You've been quiet," she said. "Even for you."
"I don't have anything to say."
"That's not true," Kael said — calm, not accusing. "You just don't want to say it."
Ronan shifted uneasily. "Maybe we shouldn't push him."
Selene studied Asher for a long moment — the tension in his jaw, the distance in his eyes. "You didn't sleep."
He didn't answer. That was answer enough.
Iris's soft voice broke the pause. "What do you do all night, anyway?"
"Yeah," Selene added lightly. "I'd like to know that too."
Kael stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "Dungeon or not, we can't stay idle. The moment they lift the lockdown, we'll need to be ready to re-enter. I'll draw up training routines outside, near the eastern range. It has less mana density, but it'll do."
"Good," Ronan said simply.
Selene nodded, though her gaze lingered on Asher. "Then it's settled."
Asher finally spoke, voice calm and even. "That's not what you should be doing."
Everyone turned toward him.
"Huh?" Kael frowned. "Then what do you suggest?"
"Cultivate," Asher replied. "It's what I've been doing since last night, since you're all so curious. Use this time to cultivate your mana instead of training."
"I see." Iris nodded in quiet agreement.
"Works for me — though I've never done that before," Ronan admitted.
"Alright then," Iris said softly, "you'll teach us what we need to know, right, Asher?"
"Yeah."
"Speaking of which…" Kael added, suddenly remembering. "…what about Miss Veyra? I haven't seen her in days."
"She's busy cultivating," Asher said, gaze still fixed on the horizon. "Which is what the rest of you should be doing."
"Asher…" Iris frowned slightly. "You said you've been cultivating since last night. Which means you're still cultivating now?"
"That's right."
"I thought you had to be in a meditative state first?"
"Yes. Cultivating in meditation is more efficient," Asher said, "but it's not the only way. You can still cultivate without it — the process is the same."
"I see." Iris nodded, absorbing the thought.
By afternoon, the courtyard had emptied. The students had gathered in the dining hall for lunch, and afterward most retreated to their rooms.
Selene found Asher again near the outer garden later that day, seated beneath one of the silverleaf trees. He didn't look surprised when she approached — almost as if he'd been expecting her.
She hesitated a moment, then sat across from him. "You didn't let me finish last night."
He opened one eye. "It was late."
"Anyway," she said, "I read the book you gave me — the one about the properties of mana. I went through it three times. I found something strange."
"Which is?"
"It said our mana is connected to every single atom in our body."
"Yes."
"Explain."
"Mana is connected to every cell," he said evenly. "That's not in the Academy's notes — not because they don't want you to know, but because they don't know it. My theory explains why people with certain mana arts develop matching physical traits. Like how fire users gain resistance to heat. It also means mana arts can, in theory, be artificially created. But mana is too volatile to use that way. One person's mana isn't identical to another's — so a water artist can't recreate fire arts, for example."
Selene blinked, completely thrown. She needed a moment to process it. "What about people without mana arts — like you and me? Could their mana be used for experiments?"
"No." His gaze didn't waver. "People without mana arts still have unique mana. Theirs isn't compatible either. Besides…" his tone softened slightly, "…the mana we have — you and I — is our mana art."
Selene sat speechless. He'd just rewritten her entire understanding of mana in a few sentences. She turned to speak again — but Asher was gone.
"Idiot," she muttered softly, though her voice held no anger. "Why do you always leave like that?"
That evening, Asher's room was silent when he returned. The candlelight flickered faintly, the scent of old parchment hanging in the air.
He shut the door behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. The day had felt longer than usual — every sound seemed to drag, every breath carry weight. The moment he stepped inside, he felt the silence again.
The same silence from last night. The kind that listened.
But this time, no whisper came.
Only the faint rustle of something on his desk.
He frowned and approached. A letter lay there — crisp parchment sealed with deep crimson wax. The emblem pressed into it was unmistakable: the Hi'orei crest — a stylized H enclosed in a circle of thorns.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it.
Then, quietly, he said, "Lauren…"
His sister's seal.
He broke it open.
The handwriting was elegant, poised, deliberate. Every line controlled.
Brother,
I trust this reaches you before the others begin to suspect too much. The lockdown was not Father's doing. I don't know if you know this, but I'd like you to help me check it out later. When you're ready, come to the upper terrace of the West Tower at dusk tomorrow.
Alone.— L.H.
Asher's fingers lingered on the edge of the parchment, his expression unreadable. The candlelight flickered once, its flame bending toward him — shifting briefly to a deep, icy blue.
He folded the letter carefully, placing it beside the pendant on his desk.
"Even you, Lauren…" he murmured, voice low. "Still doubting my abilities."
The shadows along the walls rippled faintly — then stilled.
Outside, the wind shifted. The world, it seemed, was holding its breath.