By the time Kael arrived the next morning, half the classroom was already in disarray.
One student—an elf-boy with gleaming green tattoos—was trying to transmute his desk into a wyvern. Another student was levitating tiny stones and guiding them into an elaborate orbit around her head, grinning smugly. The whirlwind from yesterday had evolved into a mild mana storm trapped in the corner, sucking in bits of chalk and parchment.
Kael didn't mind. Chaos had a rhythm, and if you knew how to dance with it, you could teach more in one hour of madness than in a year of lectures.
He walked in, dumped a bundle of old tomes onto his desk, and snapped his fingers. The room darkened—just a shade, enough to pull the students' attention.
"Today, we test your instincts," Kael said, drawing a circle in the air with a finger. A glowing rune appeared—crimson and jagged like a wound. "This is a sensory seal. It masks presence and intent. Advanced magic, usually taught in your third year. Today, you're going to break it."
Some students looked confused. Others looked excited. One or two looked vaguely terrified.
Kael turned to the chalkboard and began sketching out basic detection runes. "We'll start simple. You'll take turns trying to trace where I am while I cloak myself. No cheating, no mana spikes. Just pure instinct and learned resonance."
A hand rose.
It was the ink-fingered girl from yesterday—Lyra Vale.
Kael nodded to her.
"What if we already… see through things?" she asked softly.
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean illusions?"
"No. I mean… truths. Things people try to hide."
Kael paused. There was weight in her words. Not bravado. Experience.
He walked over and leaned against her desk. "What do you see when you look at me?"
Lyra blinked, then slowly looked up at him.
"…Fire. Chained."
A ripple of silence passed through the room.
Kael held her gaze. "Good answer. You'll go last."
He straightened and clapped his hands. "Alright, first up. Verik."
The elf-boy with the tattoos bounded forward, eager.
Kael vanished behind the seal in a single step.
Verik activated his detection spell. Runes danced around him in emerald spirals. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound, narrowed his eyes, then pointed toward the back of the room.
Kael's voice emerged from the opposite side. "Dead wrong. You'd be vaporized."
Verik winced. "But my runes said—"
"Your runes talk too much. Next."
One by one, the students tried. Some got closer than others. One came within two meters before Kael silently redirected his mana signature. Most relied too heavily on spellwork, trusting glowing glyphs over gut instinct.
When Lyra's turn came, the classroom was quiet again.
She stood, silent as a whisper, her eyes unfocused—almost dreamlike.
She didn't cast a spell. She didn't draw a rune.
She simply walked to the exact spot where Kael was hiding.
"You breathe differently when you're trying not to exist," she said, almost apologetically.
Kael stepped out of the concealment, mildly impressed. "You watched my breath?"
"No. The shadow behind you moved wrong."
He tilted his head. "You see shadows?"
She hesitated. "Sometimes… they speak."
More silence.
Kael studied her for a long moment, then gently rested a hand on her desk. "Lyra, stay after class."
She nodded without flinching.
After the Bell
The rest of the students filed out, some muttering about illusions and tricks. A few glanced back at Lyra with curiosity or wariness. Kael waited until the door clicked shut before waving a hand to seal the room with a privacy ward.
"Sit," he said.
Lyra did, expression unreadable.
"You were born in Duskwatch, weren't you?"
Her eyes widened. "…How did you know?"
"Only Duskwatchers see mana shadows naturally. It's rare. Dangerous."
"My mother said it was a blessing."
Kael frowned. "It isn't. It's Rift-tainted blood. A drop, maybe two. But it's there."
Lyra looked down, voice barely audible. "So I'm cursed."
"No," Kael said firmly. "You're aware. That's different."
He pulled a scroll from his coat—a detection sheet infused with spectral ink. He handed it to her. "I want you to record anything the shadows say for the next week. Words, images, feelings. All of it."
"Why?"
"Because they're not just fragments anymore. They're forming patterns."
Lyra blinked. "You've seen them too."
Kael didn't answer. He just nodded slowly.
She took the scroll, careful not to touch his hand.
"One more thing," he added. "If a shadow ever says your full name—your true name—come find me immediately. Don't hesitate. Understand?"
Lyra nodded, this time with fear in her eyes.
Elsewhere – The Observatory Tower
High above the academy, cloaked in shifting veils of light and magic, Headmistress Selene Virelith watched the classroom through an enchanted mirror.
Behind her stood a figure wrapped in velvet black, face obscured by illusion.
"He's already unraveling things," Selene said, folding her arms. "We expected that, but not this quickly."
The figure didn't move.
"Class D wasn't meant to function," she continued. "They're distractions. Experiments. Most are liabilities."
"And yet," the figure finally spoke, voice layered with distortion, "he's making them believe in themselves."
"A dangerous thing," Selene murmured.
"No. A necessary one," said the figure.
Meanwhile – In the Dark Below
Beneath the academy, past sealed vaults and forgotten stairs, a circle of blackened stone pulsed once. A shadow peeled itself from the wall, long and thin and whispering.
It slithered toward the surface.
And it smiled.