The morning after The Archon Codex class was quieter than usual.
The Academy grounds shimmered with early sunlight, the kind that made the marble corridors look almost alive. Students filled the walkways, laughing, talking, the low hum of their voices rising and falling like waves against stone.
Rynna walked beside Eren and Liran, her satchel bouncing lightly against her hip. Kael trailed a few paces behind — silent, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed ahead as though the world around him existed on another layer entirely.
"Alright," Eren sighed, stretching his arms. "Breakfast first, enlightenment later."
"You're never enlightened," Liran muttered, smirking.
"Rynna gets it," Eren said, turning to her. "We just survived The Archon Codex. We deserve bread. Possibly meat. Definitely sugar."
She smiled faintly, though her thoughts were far away — still circling back to the professor's words from yesterday.
Vessels. Flame. Bloodiness that should no longer exists.
The cafeteria section of the school shop — the Citrine Hall Market — was a maze of aromas and chatter. Students bargained with vendors over glowing fruit and alchemic teas. The faint hum of rune-cookers filled the air, heating flatbread and spiced meat in silver trays.
"Two flake rolls and a sunfruit," Eren said, leaning against the counter like a man negotiating a treaty.
Rynna chuckled, shaking her head. "You do realize this isn't a war zone, right?"
"With these prices?" he replied, "it might as well be."
Kael stood apart from them, near the far aisle, staring absently at the shelf of bottled tonics. His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass — eyes unreadable, expression distant. The memory of the sigil on the board still lingered behind them like an afterimage.
Liran approached him.
"You good, man?" he asked casually, pretending to inspect a jar beside him.
Kael didn't answer right away. "Just thinking."frgr
"About what? The Codex?"
Kael's hand brushed against a metal rack — and for a brief second, the shelf rattled, though no one else had touched it. The faintest spark flickered under his palm, gone before anyone noticed.
"About balance," Kael said finally.
Liran frowned. "Balance?"
Kael's gaze drifted to the window, where sunlight burned through the glass in thin, golden lines. "Everything burns for a reason."
Before Liran could reply, Eren called out, "Oi! You two planning to join us, or you're just gonna have a staring contest with the condiments?"
They regrouped by a corner table, trays in hand.
Eren was already halfway through his roll. "So," he said with his mouth full, "anyone else feel like Professor Jerem knows more than he's letting on?"
Rynna's eyes flicked toward Kael unconsciously. "He does," she murmured.
Liran leaned in. "You think it's connected to the Spire incident?"
Eren laughed. "Bro, everything's 'connected to the Spire' with you two. Next thing you'll say the vending machines are haunted."
But Rynna didn't laugh.
She watched Kael — the way his gaze stayed fixed, his movements too still, like someone holding his breath without realizing it. Something about him had shifted since yesterday. Not just silence — something heavier.
Then the lights above flickered.
It was brief — a heartbeat's glitch — but the glass cups on their table trembled, and a faint scent of ozone filled the air.
Kael's jaw clenched. He blinked once, and the lights steadied.
No one said a word.
Eren rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright… that was weird."
Liran frowned. "That only happens when someone's using energy in here."
Rynna turned toward Kael. "Kael?"
He looked up at her slowly — and for a fraction of a second, the reflection of the flame symbol flickered in his eyes again.
"I didn't do anything," he said quietly. But his tone — that calm, hollow certainty — made Rynna's skin crawl.
Eren tried to laugh it off. "Maybe the market spirits are hungry too."
No one laughed this time.
Outside, a rumble of thunder rolled faintly across the horizon — too early for a storm. The morning light dimmed slightly, as though the sky itself had blinked.
Kael exhaled, standing abruptly. "I need air."
"Kael—" Rynna began, but he was already gone, disappearing into the stream of students beyond the glass doors.
The moment he stepped outside, the faint wind shifted — not cold, but carrying the scent of burned metal.
Liran watched him go, unease etching into his face.
"Something's not right with him," he muttered.
Rynna's grip tightened around her cup. "I know."
As the thunder echoed again — closer, this time — she couldn't shake the feeling that something in the Codex had stirred more than just questions.
Somewhere deep beneath the Academy, where the Codex fragments were sealed, a faint ember pulsed once — like a heartbeat answering another.