The summons felt less like a request and more like the tightening of a noose. Each polished step towards the Headmaster's office echoed the frantic beat of my own heart. The air in the corridors, usually thick with the mundane chatter of student life, now seemed to vibrate with a silent, pointed curiosity. Their gazes weren't just inquisitive; there was a flicker of something else – apprehension? Speculation bordering on fear? It made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Headmaster Valerius's office, usually a haven of calm, felt charged. Sunlight, fractured by the leaded glass windows, cast sharp, unsettling shadows across the room. The scent of old paper and beeswax seemed heavier, almost suffocating. Valerius, his usual affable demeanor replaced by a mask of carefully controlled neutrality, gestured to a chair. His eyes, however, held a depth I hadn't seen before, a shrewdness that made my carefully rehearsed explanation feel flimsy.
"Iskandar," he began, his voice smooth as polished stone, yet with an underlying edge. "The… incident yesterday. It has garnered some… attention."
"Yes, Headmaster," I managed, my voice betraying a tremor I hadn't intended. "A momentary lapse."
"A lapse that involved… a rather unusual visual effect, according to several witnesses," Valerius countered, his gaze unwavering. "A light. Can you explain that, Iskandar?"
The lie felt like a bitter taste in my mouth. "It… it must have been a trick of the light, sir. The training hall's lighting can be erratic. Coupled with the exertion…" My voice trailed off, sounding weak even to my own ears.
Valerius steepled his fingers, his gaze intense. "Erratic lighting, Iskandar? In a state-of-the-art facility with redundant power systems? I find that explanation… less than convincing." A chill snaked down my spine. He wasn't buying it. He knew. Or at least, he suspected. "Tell me, Iskandar, have you noticed anything… unusual about yourself lately? Any changes?"
Panic clawed at my throat. How much did he know? Had someone seen something else? "No, Headmaster. Nothing at all. Just… trying to improve."
"Improvement is commendable," Valerius said slowly, his eyes like chips of ice. "But sudden, dramatic surges of power accompanied by… luminescence… are not typical of standard physical training." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "There are forces in this world, Iskandar, forces that lie beyond the understanding of most. Forces that can be… dangerous if not controlled."
A shiver ran down my spine, colder than any fear I'd felt before. This wasn't just about a schoolyard fight. He knew something about… it. About me?
"Are you involved with anything… or anyone… outside of the academy, Iskandar?" His question was sharp, probing.
"No, sir. I swear." The words tumbled out, desperate and rushed.
Valerius studied me for what felt like an eternity, his silence more menacing than any accusation. Finally, he sighed, a sound that held more weariness than relief. "Very well, Iskandar. For now, I will accept your explanation. But know this: I will be watching you. Closely. Any further… incidents… any hint of abilities beyond the ordinary… and there will be consequences." His gaze hardened. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Headmaster," I choked out, the weight of his suspicion pressing down on me.
Leaving his office felt like escaping a predator's den. The curious glances in the hallway now seemed laced with a new element: a hushed awareness, as if they sensed the undercurrent of something significant. I had the unsettling feeling that I was no longer just an unremarkable student; I was something… else. Something being watched.
...
Headmaster Valerius's POV (After Iskandar leaves)
The door clicked shut behind Iskandar, leaving a silence that felt heavier than the preceding conversation. Valerius leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting towards the window, though his thoughts remained fixed on the young man who had just left.
Adrenaline, the boy had said. A plausible explanation, for a fleeting surge of strength. But the reports… the mention of a light. That was less easily dismissed. He had known Iskandar since he was a child, a quiet, unassuming boy, overshadowed by the legacy of his parents. This sudden, unexpected display was… concerning.
He tapped a finger on the polished surface of his desk. He knew more about Iskandar's lineage than most. Elias and Seraphina had been exceptional, their abilities… unique. They had entrusted their son to his care, to the relative safety of Aethel, knowing the world held dangers they couldn't always shield him from. Seraphina's final words, a plea for his protection, still echoed in his memory.
Valerius sighed softly. He wanted to believe Iskandar's explanation. A sudden burst of youthful energy, a fluke. It would be simpler. But his instincts, honed over decades of guiding young talents – and occasionally concealing extraordinary ones – told him otherwise. There was a spark in the boy's eyes, a subtle shift in his posture, that hinted at something more.
He accessed the school's internal network, pulling up Iskandar's academic and disciplinary records. Unremarkable. Consistent, but never outstanding. Until now. This incident… it was an anomaly.
He considered contacting a few trusted sources, individuals who had known Elias and Seraphina, individuals who understood the… complexities of their bloodline. But caution stayed his hand. Premature inquiries could draw unwanted attention, the very thing they had tried to avoid for Iskandar.
For now, he would play along. He would accept the explanation at face value, giving the boy space to understand whatever was happening within him. He would monitor Iskandar closely, subtly, watching for any further unusual occurrences. Aethel was meant to be a sanctuary, a place for him to grow and perhaps, eventually, understand his own potential. But Valerius knew that even within these walls, shadows lurked, and unexpected power could be both a shield and a target.
He made a mental note to review the security protocols, to ensure the discreet observation of Iskandar remained just that – discreet. The boy needed time. Time to grow, time to understand, and time to control whatever force had manifested within him. And Valerius would ensure he had that time, for as long as he could. The promise he had made to Seraphina all those years ago weighed heavily on his shoulders. He only hoped the boy was as unassuming outside his office as he had tried to appear within it. The subtle shift in the student body's reaction in the coming days would tell him much.
...
The moment I stepped inside, the low hum of pre-lesson chatter died down. All eyes swiveled towards me. It was like walking onto a stage where I hadn't rehearsed my lines. A wave of discomfort washed over me, the collective scrutiny pressing in from all sides. Then, it started. A low murmur rippled through the room, like wind rustling through dry leaves. Snippets of hushed words reached my ears – "the fight," "the light," "what did Valerius say?" The noise grew, an undercurrent of speculation and intrigue that made my teeth clench.
As I tried to make my way to my usual seat at the back, a familiar hulking figure detached itself from a group near the front. Rizal. The leader of the school's unofficial bully contingent. His usual sneer was amplified today, his thick arms crossed over his chest, effectively blocking my path. His cronies flanked him, their expressions mirroring his displeasure.
"Well, well, well," Rizal drawled, his voice laced with a false joviality that didn't fool anyone. "Look who it is. The little nobody who suddenly thinks he can throw punches… and glow?" A ripple of uneasy laughter went through his group.
My instinct was to shrink back, to apologize, to become invisible. But something had shifted within me in that brief, terrifying encounter with Valerius. A sliver of defiance, perhaps. Or maybe just a weary resignation to the inevitable attention. I met Rizal's gaze directly, trying to channel the calm indifference Guardian often projected.
Without a word, without even a flicker of acknowledgment towards his blatant intimidation, I continued walking. Straight towards him. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise in their depths. His cronies shifted uncomfortably. For a moment, I thought he might try to physically stop me. But something in my steady gaze, in the deliberate lack of reaction, seemed to give him pause.
I walked past him, close enough to brush his arm, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle. The murmuring in the room intensified, now laced with a palpable tension. I could feel Rizal's eyes boring into my back as I finally reached my seat. My hands trembled slightly as I placed my bag down, but outwardly, I tried to project an air of unshakeable confidence. It was a precarious performance, but for the first time, I wasn't playing the victim. I was playing someone who simply didn't care. And in the charged atmosphere of the classroom, that indifference seemed to carry a power of its own.