The sun hadn't cleared the academy's highest towers when Alex entered the training yard.
The spear felt familiar in his hands. That, at least, hadn't changed.
What had changed was the pressure beneath his skin — the quiet insistence of things that wanted to move faster than they should.
He ran the form once. Then again.
The world resisted him in subtle ways. Movements dragged at the edge of perception. Timing felt… adjustable. Alex forced the sensation down, breathing evenly, anchoring himself to the rhythm of motion rather than the impulse beneath it.
He adjusted his stance. Thrust. Withdraw. Turn.
A gust twisted unexpectedly, knocking a practice dummy off balance.
Alex stilled it with a flick of the spear before anyone noticed.
Visibility was dangerous.
He stepped back, letting his breathing roughen, his movements dull. Around him, the yard filled.
Milo struggled nearby, nearly toppling a rack of dummies with his greatbow. Sera moved through drills with effortless precision, her strikes trailing cold and wind in disciplined arcs. Watching her was like watching inheritance made manifest — techniques refined over generations, power shaped into certainty.
Alex looked away.
He repeated the sequence again, slower this time. Careful. Mundane.
— — —
The sparring hall quieted as a new presence entered.
Students straightened without being told.
The instructor wore dark training robes traced with interlocking glyphs, their movements measured, deliberate. Their gaze swept the hall — assessing, cataloging — before stopping on Alex.
"Attention," the instructor said. The word carried.
"I am Master Kaelthar. For the next cycle, I oversee combat drills and field readiness. You will listen. You will adapt."
Kaelthar's eyes returned to Alex.
"You. Forward."
Alex moved without hesitation.
Kaelthar circled him once, slow and deliberate. "You hold yourself well," they said. "Too well. You are restraining something."
Alex said nothing.
"Show me what you will," Kaelthar continued. "Not what you are."
— — —
Darius stepped onto the platform with a familiar smirk.
"Still playing it safe?" he asked.
Alex lowered into stance.
Darius attacked fast — a probing strike meant to test reflexes. Alex parried late. Just late enough.
Steel scraped. Footwork faltered. A hit landed against his shoulder.
The murmur came immediately.
Alex dropped to one knee, breathing hard, spear angled poorly.
Kaelthar watched without comment.
Darius pressed harder, confidence growing with every exchange. Alex yielded ground inch by inch, never cornered, never decisive. Every mistake was deliberate. Every recovery subtle.
The illusion held.
"Enough," Kaelthar said at last.
Darius stepped back, satisfied.
Alex lowered his spear slowly.
"You hide your strength," Kaelthar said. "That is not foolish. But neither is it harmless."
Their gaze sharpened. "Control is not concealment. Remember the difference."
Alex inclined his head.
— — —
The hall stirred as students dispersed.
Milo hovered near him, uncertain. "You okay?"
Alex gave a small nod. "Yeah."
Sera watched him longer than necessary.
She didn't say anything.
That was worse.
— — —
Kaelthar raised a hand, silencing the room once more.
"In one week," they said, "you will leave the academy."
The reaction was immediate.
"A settlement in the Twilight Marshes has reported instability. Rogue constructs. Minor void bleed."
Alex felt the word field settle into his bones.
"Pairings will be assigned. This is not a test of glory. It is a test of restraint."
Kaelthar's eyes swept the room.
"You will adapt," they said. "Or you will fail."
— — —
Alex lingered as the hall emptied.
Milo struggled with his gear. Sera adjusted her blade, wind stirring faintly at her back.
Fieldwork meant exposure.
It meant eyes.
He tightened his grip on the spear, feeling the quiet pressure beneath his skin settle into stillness.
Not yet.
The mission was coming.
And hiding would be harder when the world started pushing back