The air in the Upper Chamber had a strange stillness that morning.
It wasn't the kind of quiet that came from peace — no, it was the kind that came right before someone did something they shouldn't.
Lenara had decided today was a "no training seriousness" day, declaring it loudly while balancing upside down on a fallen column, her hair brushing the dust.
"You know, Aaren," she called, "the secret to winning any fight is to make your opponent so confused, they forget why they're fighting you."
Koro was crouched nearby, doodling patterns in the sand with one finger. His grin was wide enough to be unsettling.
"She's not wrong. My cousin once forgot he was in a duel because I started telling him about pickled mangoes mid-swing. Best victory of my life."
Aaren exhaled, resting a hand on the hilt of Levitine — the sleek blade gleaming faintly with an inner light, as if it had something to say but was waiting for the right moment.
"Both of you are unbelievable," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
From a shadowed ridge above them, unseen eyes were watching.
A slight figure stood still, half-shrouded in the jagged stone, unmoving except for the subtle turn of a head.
The watcher's gaze was sharp, following every gesture, every twitch of Aaren's fingers near Levitine.
"You feel that?" Withered Flame's voice was low, almost a growl. He was leaning against a boulder, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing toward the ridge. "Something's not right."
Before Aaren could ask, Koro flopped onto his back, staring at the sky with the most unhelpful answer possible.
"It's fine. Probably just a rock. Or a rock that's pretending to be a person. Or a person pretending to be a rock. I once—"
"Koro." Aaren's tone was a warning, but Koro only grinned wider.
"Alright, alright, I'll be serious for five seconds… starting now. One… two… done."
Lenara snorted so loudly it echoed.
Her laughter died when a sudden shhhk sliced through the stillness — the distinct sound of steel whispering against leather.
Without thinking, Aaren drew Levitine.
The sword responded instantly, its weight familiar yet alive, the golden etchings along its blade pulsing faintly as if in sync with his heartbeat.
It was like holding lightning — thrilling, dangerous, and barely under control.
Levitine's voice brushed the edges of his mind. Focus, Aaren. There is danger here.
From the ridge, the shadow moved. A flicker of fabric, the gleam of something metallic — then it vanished behind stone.
Aaren's grip tightened. "Who's there?"
Silence answered him.
Withered Flame's eyes narrowed further, and Lenara tilted her head in mock curiosity.
"Oh no, mysterious stalker in the shadows, please don't come out dramatically and try to kill us. That would be so inconvenient," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Koro finally sat up, brushing dust from his clothes. "Should we… y'know… go find them? Or just wait here until they make the first move? I'm fine with either. Oh, or we could set a trap—"
Before he could finish, Aaren moved.
Levitine's blade caught the light as he sprinted toward the ridge. His boots hit stone and dust in quick succession, muscles burning as he pulled himself upward.
The sword thrummed in his grip, eager.
He reached the top in seconds — but the watcher was gone.
Only the faint indentation of boots in the dust hinted at their presence, and even those were already fading, as if swallowed by the wind.
Below, Lenara cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Hey, you forgot to invite me to the chase scene!"
Koro grinned, summoning streams of golden sand into his palms. The grains spun into miniature whirlwinds, swirling in lazy circles before darting away like curious animals.
"I'll track them," he said, eyes sparkling. "My sand doesn't forget footsteps."
Aaren jumped back down, landing with a thud.
"Do it. Whoever they are, they're watching us for a reason."
Koro's sand spiraled outward, searching. Lenara leaned in close to Aaren and whispered, "Bet you five coins they're just a fan of yours."
He gave her a look. "Fans don't hide in ridges."
"Maybe shy fans do."
The sand returned to Koro, carrying no trace of the intruder. He shrugged. "Guess they're good at covering their tracks."
Levitine's glow dimmed slightly, almost like a sigh. They are not gone. They are patient.
That thought stayed with Aaren long after the sun dipped low, turning the edges of the Upper Chamber to gold.
The group kept their laughter and banter alive, but each of them — even Koro — felt it.
The eyes in the shadows.
Waiting.