He hated the feeling.

By the time he reached the Grand Step, Mira was already waiting, leaning on the railing like she'd been standing there for hours. She looked functional, if not entirely rested; her bandaged hand shoved into her pocket.

"You're late," she said.

"I'm early."

"Still late."

Soren raised an eyebrow. Mira didn't smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched, her version of humor.

They started down the steps together.

"You expected Kaelor last night," he said.

"You're damn right I did." Mira kicked at a pebble. "He doesn't call a student into the yard unless he means something by it."

"He wanted to measure my Aura."

"He wanted to measure you." She gave him a sideways glance. "He got what he wanted?"

Soren didn't answer.

Mira hummed. "That's what I thought."

They reached the central courtyard, where students were gathering for morning formation. The instructors stood on the raised dais, Aramond ,Weapons.. Selene, Arcanistry..Jorick, Tactical, and a newer face Coren didn't recognize: a tall, black-haired woman in Academy blue, posture rigid as cut stone.

"That's the new instructor," Mira said. "Arrived while we were gone."

"Subject?"

"Field Doctrine," Mira said. "She's Kaelor's pick."

That explained the posture.

Before Coren could ask more, Jorick signaled for silence. The noise died instantly.

"Cadets," Jorick barked, voice echoing off the towers. "Three updates."

Students straightened.

"One: The Tribunal has concluded. The Academy retains its place in the coming allocations."

A restrained ripple of approval.

"Two: Due to increased external activity, border incidents, and attempted interference against Academy personnel—"

More than a few heads turned toward Coren.

"—the Council has authorized an immediate tightening of defense protocols. All cadets will undergo expanded field evaluation beginning today."

Murmurs—controlled, but undeniable.

"And three," Jorick finished, "the Academy welcomes its newest instructor. Warden-Lieutenant Lysandra Vale."

A pause.

"Not related to any student."

Soren froze.

Vale.

Mira muttered, "Well. That's awkward."

Lysandra stepped forward, sweeping the yard with her gaze—a cold, appraising sweep that took in every face but lingered, unmistakably, on Coren's for a fraction of a heartbeat. Her eyes were a washed, pale grey: a soldier's eyes.

"Training," she said, "will resume at a higher standard than what you have known. Adapt quickly. Those who cannot will be reassigned."

The yard stiffened.

Selene stepped up next. "First-years, split to Arcanistry Hall for assessment."

Mira clapped Coren's shoulder. "Good luck."

"You're in Tactical today?"

"Tactical, Field Eval, and then Weapons Conditioning. You know—fun things."

Soren smirked faintly and peeled off with the first-year cohort toward the arcanists' hall.

Inside the Hall of Arcana, a cold blue glow pulsed along the floor channels. Crystalline conduits—heavy, humming with pressure—fed into the exam ring at the center. Selene stood at the far edge, arms folded, watching each student file in with the intensity of someone who could sense Aura down to the heartbeat.

Coren hated this room.

Too many memories. Too many eyes.

"Form circle," Selene said. "Aura projection only. No augmentations, no conjures. I want raw resonance."

The students obeyed.

Soren found his place in the circle. Across from him stood Arith Dane, a second-ranked prodigy with a talent for manipulating light-spectrum Aura. Arith's eyes locked onto Coren immediately—measuring, competitive.

Three months ago, that would've worried Coren.

Now, after the Narrows?

Arith felt small.

Selene raised her hand.

"Begin."

One by one, students activated their Aura—shimmers, sparks, the occasional flicker of flame or frost. Selene observed each with the precision of a surgeon.

Then:

"Coren Vale."

Coren stepped forward into the ring.

Selene watched him the way Kaelor had. Sharp. Expectant. Searching.

"Project," she said.

He drew breath.

Valenna whispered, "Controlled. Even. No more than yesterday."

He exhaled.

The blade stayed sheathed; this test didn't require steel. Aura flowed through the hand instead, gathering at the palm.

A thin line of cold-blue light formed—steady, clean, not too bright.

Enough.

Selene's eyebrow lifted by half a millimeter. Approval, irritation, interest—he couldn't tell which.

"Again," she said.

He did.

The projection thickened, gaining density.

Selene circled him. "Your resonance has altered since your last evaluation."

Coren kept still.

"External strain, I assume?"

"Yes, Instructor."

"Trauma?"

"…Yes."

Selene gave a short, barely perceptible nod. "Good. Trauma adapts the channels. Not always usefully, but reliably."

She stepped back.

"That's enough."

Coren extinguished the Aura and returned to the circle.

Arith stared at him, tight-jawed, as if offended on principle.

Soren ignored him.

Valenna pulsed gently.

"You masked it well."

For now, he thought.

For as long as needed, she answered.

Class ended with Selene making notes on each student. When she finished, she dismissed the group—except Coren.

"Vale. Remain."

He stayed.

Selene approached until she stood only a few steps away.

"Your Aura pattern is inconsistent," she said.

"I know."

"It's also evolving. Rapidly enough to be concerning."

He swallowed. "Should I restrict training?"

"No," she said. "You should increase it. Under supervision."

He blinked.

Selene rarely approved of anything.

"You'll report to me for nightly diagnostic sessions," she continued. "Starting tonight."

Soren nodded.

"Good," Selene said. "Dismissed."

When Soren stepped outside, the courtyard was emptying for midday meal—but someone waited on the steps.

Lysandra Vale.

Arms crossed. Back straight. Gaze fixed directly on him.

Sorrn halted.

"Cadet Vale," she greeted. "Walk with me."

Not a question.

He followed.

At the far edge of the courtyard, out of earshot of the other students, she stopped and faced him.

"You performed at the Tribunal," she said. Not praise. Not accusation. Just observation.

"Yes, Instructor."

"You also killed," she said plainly.

"…Yes."

"And manifested an Aura stronger than your record suggests."

Soren kept his face impassive. "Situational stress amplified it."

"No," she said sharply. "Situational stress degrades technique. Yours sharpened."

Her eyes narrowed, searching his face with surgical patience.

"You are not what your file claims."

Coren didn't breathe.

Valenna hissed in warning.

Lysandra continued:

"I do not care what you're hiding. But I will learn it. The difference—Cadet Vale—is whether you tell me first, or I discover it under pressure."

She stepped closer.

"And I assure you, I am very good at applying pressure."

Soren held her gaze.

"I understand."

"Good," she said. "Report to the Tactical Yard at sundown. Alone."

Then she turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Coren stood still long after she'd left, the wind tugging at his coat, the weight of those words sitting cold and heavy in his chest.

Valenna whispered:

"She sees too much."

He whispered back:

"I know."

"And she will not stop."

Coren breathed in.

And exhaled.

"Then neither will I."

The sun bled low across the western towers when Coren crossed the Tactical Yard—long shadows stretching over the gravel, the faint smell of oil and chalk hanging in the wind. Aetherion's evening bells had not yet rung, but the yard was empty. No sparring lines, no instructors, no cadets.

Just Lysandra Vale.

She stood at the center of the yard, coat removed, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Arms bare, scarred in a way that wasn't decorative—thin lines, controlled patterns, the mark of a soldier who'd spent more years in the field than the city.

Coren stopped two paces from her.

"Instructor."

"Cadet."

Her eyes flicked down to the sword at his hip. "Draw."

Soren did.

She didn't draw hers.

Instead, she circled him once—slow, unhurried—like a wolf deciding if the creature in its territory was worth the trouble.

"When the reports came back from the Tribunal," Lysandra said, "three names were highlighted. Mira Kehl. Lady Elyndra. And you."

Soren held his silence.

"Your technique in the Narrows," she continued, "was described as… unfamiliar."

He breathed evenly. "I followed Academy doctrine."

Lysandra stopped pacing, squared herself to him.

"No," she said. "You didn't."

A gust of wind swept across the yard, kicking dust against his boots.

Lysandra raised her hand slightly—not a threat, just a motion—and Coren tensed before he could stop himself.

She saw it.

"Good," she murmured. "You're responsive."

She stepped back, finally drawing her own blade—a heavy, straight-edged weapon worn down by decades of use.

"Tonight is simple. You attack. I defend."

Soren blinked. "…I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. Aggression evaluates truth better than a conversation ever will."

She settled into stance. Not Academy-standard. Older. Sharper. Built for battlefield timing rather than dueling form.

Soren hesitated. "Instructor, if I—"

"If you hold back," she cut in, "this will be over quickly. And painfully."

Valenna pulsed at his wrist.

"She's strong. Do not underestimate her."

Soren inhaled.

And moved.

The first strike was clean, angled, meant to test—not commit. Lysandra parried without shifting her footing, redirecting the blade with a flick of her wrist so slight it might as well have been contempt.

"Again."

Soren stepped in with a second cut—faster, sharper.

Lysandra deflected. No struggle.

"Again."

He attacked. Harder.

Steel met steel in a burst of sparks, but she absorbed the force, letting it run through her shoulder, down her spine, into the ground.

Soren gritted his teeth.

She wasn't blocking him.

She was reading him.

"Your weight transfers too late," Lysandra said. "Your hip alignment collapses before you commit. And you hesitate just before you swing. Aura-users with imprecise timing always do."

Soren's jaw tightened.

He shifted stance.

Then attacked again—low, pivoting to strike at her ribs.

A sharp crack of metal—Lysandra intercepted, twisted his wrist, and forced him to retreat two steps before he regained footing.

"You're hiding the Aura," she said.

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