Combat Arts was supposed to be just another day of drills.Pairs sparring on the practice floor, instructors circling like hawks, the occasional crackle of harmless training magic.
But the moment Thalen walked in, Cade was already waiting.No smirk this time. Just a look — sharp, hungry — like a predator who'd been patient long enough.
"Aric," Cade called, tossing a practice spear from hand to hand. "You and me today."
Thalen opened his mouth to refuse, but Instructor Vorren — a broad-shouldered dragonkin whose scarred scales shimmered faintly gold — clapped his hands. "Good. Let's see if you two can make it through without breaking the ceiling this time."
The other students formed a wide circle. Even Finn backed up a little.
They began with the standard footwork patterns. Cade moved fast, his steps light, his eyes never leaving Thalen. His first strike came without warning — a sweeping blow meant to knock Thalen off his feet. Thalen blocked, barely, the impact rattling his arms.
Then Cade started pressing. Hard.
Each attack came faster, heavier, forcing Thalen back. Cade's grin returned, thin and sharp. "What's the matter, storm boy? No mysterious magic today?"
Thalen tried to focus, but the voice from two nights ago was back, louder.Defend yourself. Stop holding back.
"I'm not holding back," Thalen hissed under his breath.
Then prove it.
Cade's spear slammed against his guard again. Sparks danced where the wood met metal. "Come on, Aric," he taunted. "Show us what you really are."
The words hit something raw. Thalen stepped in, deflecting Cade's strike — but Cade pivoted, swept his leg, and knocked Thalen to one knee.
The voice surged.Enough.
The air around Thalen shifted. The torchlight dimmed, the shadows stretched. A pressure built in his chest, sharp and electric, until it spilled into the room in a rush of wind that rattled the windows.
Every head turned as a faint corona of light flared around him — silver-white, threaded with streaks of shadow. Runes, not from any book he'd seen, spiraled across the floor beneath his feet.
Cade staggered back, eyes wide. "What—"
The ground cracked. A shockwave burst outward, throwing Cade off his feet entirely and knocking several students to the floor. Lightning forked across the ceiling, the smell of rain flooding the air.
Instructor Vorren roared something Thalen couldn't hear over the pounding in his ears. The light grew until it hurt to look at him.
And then — a second voice. Not the one in his head, but an echo that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Firstborn.
Hands grabbed his shoulders — Vorren's — dragging him back. The magic ripped away like a receding tide, leaving Thalen gasping, the runes on the floor fading to nothing.
Silence.
No one moved. Even the instructors were staring at him like he'd just grown a second head. Cade, still on the floor, looked equal parts furious and afraid.
Vorren's grip tightened. "You," he said, his voice low enough only Thalen could hear, "are coming with me. Now."
The circle of students parted without a word as Vorren marched Thalen toward the door. Somewhere in the crowd, Finn's worried face appeared, but Thalen couldn't meet his eyes.
The last thing he saw before leaving the training hall was Serenya, leaning against the far wall, her silver gaze locked on him — and, for the first time, looking almost afraid.