"You look awful."
Kael's voice cut through the morning air, blunt and unfiltered.
It wasn't even a greeting—just the first observation that left his mouth the moment she stepped onto the training grounds. The pale light of dawn caught the heavy shadows beneath her eyes, and he frowned.
"It's seven in the morning, Aysel. You look like you've been working for three days straight without rest."
She straightened, though it didn't do much to hide the slump in her posture, and gave him a slow, sheepish nod.
"Hard to say… I had too many things on my mind last night," she murmured before stifling a yawn.
Her fatigue wasn't just in her body—it was in the way her voice dragged, in the dull glaze over her gaze.
Kael exhaled sharply. "You just got here and you already look like you're going to collapse face-first into the dirt."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode off, disappearing behind one of the training sheds. She blinked, baffled, until he returned a moment later holding something in his palm—a small, round glass vial filled with a thick, dark liquid.
"Drink this," he said simply. "It'll help."
Aysel stared at the container, brows knitting. The liquid inside swirled sluggishly, the color so dark it was almost black.
"What is this? And is it even safe to drink?" she asked bluntly.
Kael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Of course it's safe. You think I'd hand you poison?"
Honestly… this looked more like poison than a potion. But it was too early in the morning to argue, so she braced herself, tipped her head back, and swallowed it in one gulp.
The taste hit instantly.
Ugh!
Her face scrunched as though she'd bitten into a fistful of dirt and grass.
But then… it happened. A rush of warmth spread from her throat down to her chest, unfurling through her veins. The heaviness behind her eyes lifted, her heartbeat steadied, and every ache and ounce of exhaustion in her body simply… vanished. She stood straighter without realizing it, blinking in mild shock.
Kael caught her expression and smirked faintly. Told you so.
"Alright," he said briskly. "Let's start. Show me what you've learned."
She gave a short nod, rolling her shoulders, but before she could even take her stance, Kael raised a warning hand.
"And don't destroy the training ground like last time. I don't want to have to call the maintenance staff again."
He gestured to a row of wooden training puppets lined neatly in the center of the yard.
"Use these. Imagine they're enemies. But keep it small. The goal today is mana control and precise magic flow."
Aysel gave an awkward smile. "Yes, sir…"
The last thing she wanted was to make a scene again. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. In the darkness behind her eyelids, a memory stirred—not her own, but Aylin's. Her mind replayed the way Aylin had once commanded her magic: steady, deliberate, almost effortless.
Her body moved on instinct. She lifted her right hand slightly.
The air shifted.
It wasn't just the faint breeze—it was the pressure, a subtle tightening, like the world itself was holding its breath. Kael's muscles tensed, his senses sharpening, but he didn't interfere. Something in him wanted to trust her.
Above them, the sky dimmed unnaturally, clouds gathering as if summoned.
"Don't tell me…" Kael muttered under his breath, magic already coiling around his fingers just in case.
And then it happened.
Lightning arced around her, crackling across her arms, dancing over her skin without burning her. The electricity twisted and coiled, merging seamlessly with the fire that bloomed from her fingertips—fire that didn't just burn, but pulsed with a strange, molten brilliance. The two elements twined together, not clashing, but amplifying one another.
Heat rolled off her in waves, the air warping, the scent of ozone sharp in Kael's nose. Sparks leapt from her hair as her magic swelled, a living storm contained in a single body.
Then, with a sharp, deliberate motion, she thrust her arm forward.
The fire-lightning storm tore through the air, hitting the first puppet with an ear-splitting crack. Flames roared as lightning splintered through wood, and in the space of a heartbeat, the row of puppets was obliterated—splinters vaporized, ash devoured by the residual heat. Not even dust was left behind.
The silence afterward was almost jarring.
Aysel opened her eyes, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "It worked."
Kael's gaze was fixed on her, his expression caught somewhere between awe and suspicion.
"You… when did you learn advanced spells?"
She tilted her head. "Advanced spells? You mean that?"
"Yes," he said, stepping closer. "That was an advanced fire spell—one of the hardest to pull off. It takes an absurd amount of mana and control. Most mages wouldn't even attempt it."
"I… had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. You only started learning magic yesterday. Yesterday you could barely hold a spell without it blowing up in your face. So how," his eyes narrowed, "do you suddenly know how to do that?"
Her pulse spiked. She couldn't exactly tell him the truth—that it came from someone else's memories.
"It's… Lucien," she blurted. "He taught me in our combined class yesterday."
Kael's eyebrow arched. "Lucien? Lucien Noctis?"
"Yes. Why? Is that strange?"
Kael shook his head slowly. "Not exactly. He's an incredible mage—one of the best in the academy, really. But…" He looked her dead in the eye.
"…he doesn't usually take an interest in helping anyone."
Aysel blinked. "He doesn't? But he was a great teacher."
"Maybe for a reason," Kael muttered, almost to himself.
She frowned slightly, his words lodging in her mind.
Lucien wasn't the kind to help others… huh.
Before she could dwell on it, Kael spoke again. "That's all for today. You've done well. A little too well, honestly." His lips pressed into a thin line, unsure whether to praise her or be wary.
"Your escort is here. Head to class."
"My escort?" she echoed in confusion.
He pointed to the side of the yard, and her eyes followed—only to land on a familiar, silver-haired figure leaning casually against the fence, grinning like a cat that had found its next plaything.
"Zeph," Kael said flatly.