The infirmary was silent save for the steady beep of Connor Frey's heart monitor. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his face a mottled canvas of bruises and bandages. The healers had done what they could, but some wounds ran deeper than flesh.
A shadow detached itself from the corner.
A man with a tattoo on his neck - a black palm engraved with an eye - stepped forward. His cold eyes reflected the dim glow of the monitors as he studied Connor's broken form with clinical detachment.
"Interesting." he murmured.
Connor didn't stir.
The man's fingers hovered over Connor's forehead, a pulse of energy flickering at his fingertips, probing for memories. But the boy's mind was locked tight like every other noble.
And so was whatever Drake had unleashed.
"As expected," His smirk was razor-thin.
The door hissed open. The man vanished into the shadows just as a nurse entered, her footsteps light against the sterile floor. She adjusted Connor's IV, humming softly, oblivious to the predator that had stood mere inches away.
When she left, the man didn't reappear. He was already gone.
----
Drake lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it - the crimson gaze, the voice that wasn't his.
"You are not deserving."
His fingers traced the edge of his pillow, where the dragon-hilted sword lay hidden. He hadn't touched it since the incident.
A soft click echoed through the room.
Drake froze. The door hadn't opened. The window was sealed.
Then - a whisper of movement, like cloth brushing stone.
His breath hitched. He didn't dare turn his head. The presence lingered at the edge of his bed, watching. Waiting.
Drake's fingers inched toward the sword. The presence didn't react, but the air thickened.
The presence vanished. The room was empty again. But the air still hummed with something hungry.
The next morning, the academy buzzed with hushed conversations. The official story - Connor's "accident" - had spread, but the students weren't fools. Too many knew something had happened in that arena. The only reason they hadn't felt it was the barrier that had contained the sound, energy, and devastation within the training grounds.
Drake kept his head down as he walked to class, ignoring the sidelong glances. Alexis and Xian were nowhere to be seen.
The lecture hall was half-empty.
The professor lectured on Aether Dynamics, his hologram displaying the decay rates of rift-energy in contaminated zones. Drake barely registered the technical jargon. His mind was elsewhere - on crimson eyes, on the weight of the sword hidden beneath his bed.
Then the door slammed open.
Jackson Storm stood in the doorway, his presence sucking the air from the room. His gaze locked onto Drake.
Drake met his stare, refusing to flinch.
Jackson strode forward and took the seat beside him. The temperature dropped. His eyes never left Drake's face.
"What really happened in that arena?" Jackson leaned in, his voice a whisper.
A beat of silence.
Then - "I saw you, Jagger. I saw what you did."
Drake's pulse spiked.
Jackson's smile was razor-sharp. "And I want to know how."
Drake exhaled slowly. "You saw nothing."
"Mr. Jagger and Mr. Storm," the professor interrupted, adjusting his glasses. "Do you have something you'd like to share with the class?"
Chuckles rippled through the room.
"Whatever you're discussing must be fascinating," the professor added dryly.
"Our apologies, sir," Drake said.
"Commoners and manners are like east and west," the professor muttered, sparking another wave of laughter before he resumed his lecture.
When class ended, students flooded into the hallway. Drake moved quickly, but Jackson matched his pace, walking beside him as curious eyes followed the odd pair - the second-ranked first-year and the dead-last.
"I saw everything," Jackson said, voice low.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Drake lied.
Jackson chuckled. "The energy. The way Connor's bones shattered like glass. That wasn't Aether. That was something else."
Drake's fingers twitched. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" Jackson subtly revealed a twisted piece of metal - Drake's shattered Aether inhibitor. "This was still active when you tore through Connor. Which means your power didn't come from a Core."
Drake's stomach dropped.
Jackson's eyes gleamed. "Here's my offer. You tell me what you really are, and I won't pry further - or tell anyone." He stressed the last words like a threat.
Drake clenched his fists. "Blackmail?"
"Call it curiosity." Jackson leaned closer. "I know power when I see it. And whatever's inside you? It's strong."
The air between them crackled.
Drake weighed his options. Fighting here would draw attention, and it's not like he even stood a chance. Lies might buy time, but Jackson wasn't the type to let go.
Then -
"Hey, buddy!" Alexis appeared, clapping Drake on the shoulder.
"I've got to go," Drake said, slipping away from Jackson to join Alexis.
Jackson watched him leave, his smirk lingering.
This wasn't over.