Kael ran. His lungs burned. The distant chaos of the academy was now a muffled roar. Here, in the silent hallways of the administrative wing, the air was cold and dead. It smelled of blood and something sharp, like lightning that had burned the air.
He turned a corner and saw the story written on the walls. A giant boar-like beast lay dead, a clean, deep gash across its throat. A feathered serpent was sprawled in a doorway, its wings bent at wrong angles. They weren't killed in the stampede. They were removed. Someone had cut through here, and these beasts were in the way.
Kael's heart clenched. He knew where they were headed.
He slowed, his steps quiet. The sounds up ahead grew clear. The heavy clang of metal. A fierce, constant hiss. The roar of flames and the rush of water. And beneath it, the raw, pained grunts of Instructor Garrick.
He reached Garrick's office. The door was not just broken. It was gone, blown into splinters. The fight had spilled into the wide stone hallway.
Kael looked.
Instructor Garrick was a mountain of armored muscle. His ability swelled his size, and his dark plate armor seemed to grow with him, flowing over his body like liquid iron. He swung his greatsword in huge, sweeping arcs, each one daring his enemies to come closer.
But two men pressed him hard.
The first moved with a swordsman's grace, his katana trailing water that cut the air like a blade. He danced around Garrick, his strikes precise, aiming for the spaces between armor plates.
The second fighter was a brute of a man. He wielded two axes wrapped in fire so hot it burned white. He hammered at Garrick's defenses with raw, roaring power. Every strike echoed, and the floor beneath him was scorched black.
A third man watched. He was lean, with cold grey eyes and a cruel twist to his mouth. He held a strange weapon—a whip made of linked, barbed metal segments. Kordak.
Kordak's eyes slid from the fight and locked onto Kael. His lips pulled back, showing teeth.
"The little lost weapon returns to its maker," Kordak said, his voice a dry scrape.
Garrick's head jerked toward the door. "Kael! Run!"
Kordak moved.
He was a blur. One moment he was across the hall, the next he was right in front of Kael. The whip snapped out, a silver streak in the air.
Kael brought his daggers up just in time. The whip crashed against them with the force of a falling tree. The impact threw Kael back into the wall. The breath exploded from his chest.
Kordak stood over him as the whip slithered back into his hand. "Look at you. We were just talking about your… education. Your new teacher thinks he fixed you." He tilted his head. "Did he? Or did he just make you more dangerous?"
A rage, old and deep, boiled up in Kael's chest. It was the fury of every hurt, every cruel lesson, every lonely night. "You sadist," Kael spat, forcing himself to stand. "You hurt me for years because you enjoyed it. You broke me for fun."
Kordak's grin was wide and wicked. "There's the fire. I thought he might have put it out." He took a step. "Let's see what's left."
He blurred again.
Kael swung his daggers at empty air. Then pain, sharp and hot, wrapped around his legs. He looked down. The whip was coiled tight around his calves, the barbs dug deep into his flesh. Blood soaked through his pants.
"You always did forget your place," Kordak said softly. He held the whip's handle.
He pulled.
Kael's legs were yanked out from under him. He hit the stone floor hard. His vision flashed white. He tasted blood.
"KAEL!"
Garrick's shout was a roar of pure anger. He turned from the two fighters, ignoring them, and charged straight at Kordak.
It was a mistake.
The axe fighter saw his chance. He roared and swung his flaming weapons at the back of Garrick's knee. Garrick couldn't dodge in time. The axes hit his armor with a deafening crash. The leg buckled.
The water swordsman moved like a striking snake. He slipped inside Garrick's guard. His katana, wrapped in a spiral of cutting water, stabbed into the narrow gap at Garrick's armpit.
The sound was sickening. A wet, tearing crunch.
Garrick gasped, a choked, wet sound. He threw an elbow back, sending the swordsman stumbling away. But when Garrick straightened, blood was already pouring from the wound, running down his armor and pooling on the floor. His breathing was ragged and bubbly.
Kordak hadn't moved. He kept his foot on the whip, holding Kael down. He watched Kael see what had happened.
"See?" Kordak's voice was quiet. "Care is a weakness. He looked away to save you. And you got him killed. Some lessons never end."
He leaned close, his grey eyes empty.
Kael's hand shot out and grabbed Kordak's arm. His grip was iron.
Kael looked up.
His eyes were changing. The color was draining away, swallowed by a swirling, hungry grey. The grey seemed to pull the light from the air, leaving everything cold and dim. He stared into Kordak's face, and his voice was a low,