The classroom hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional scrape of a chair as students settled in.
Kyle slumped in his seat near the back, spinning his pen between his fingers with practiced ease.
The wooden desk felt smooth and cool beneath his elbows.
A week had passed since that friendly spar with Cedric.
Kyle absently rubbed his side where his ribs had been cracked.
The healing magic had done its job.
But sometimes Kyle still felt a phantom ache in his ribs.
Not from Cedric's blows.
But from that masked figure's brutal kick in the Viper's warehouse.
That memory played in his head on a loop. More vivid than any dream.
The crunch of bone.
The coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.
Those crimson eyes staring down at him through that grotesque stitched mask.
Even now, safe in the classroom.
His breath hitched slightly when he remembered how close he had come to dying that night.
The pain had faded.
