The corridors of Aureus Helix Academy had their own kind of heartbeat.
It wasn't just the constant hum of power conduits or the soft hiss of the climate systems working to keep the air at a perfect 22 degrees Celsius. It was in the rhythm of footsteps echoing against polished composite floors, the murmured conversations, the rustle of fabric from students brushing past one another in their dark, elegant uniforms.
To someone new, it all felt alive, almost welcoming.
To Vadel, it was noise. And noise could hide danger.
He blended into it with practiced ease — neither rushing nor lingering, a black-and-silver shape moving through the tide of morning bodies. His shoulders stayed relaxed, his head tilted slightly downward, yet his eyes… his eyes never stopped working.
Every polished surface was a mirror. Every shadow was a hiding place.
"You've looped the central axis twice now," EON's voice murmured inside his head, low and calm. "You're going to make the pattern obvious if you do it a third time."
"I'm still calibrating angles," Vadel whispered without moving his lips.
"Angles for what?"
"Sight lines."
"You're building a tailing map."
He didn't confirm it.
The truth was, since the day before, he'd been carrying that subtle itch at the back of his neck — the predator's sense of unseen eyes. Whoever it was had skill. Not the clumsy curiosity of a rival student, nor the lazy half-interest of an instructor keeping tabs on promising talent. No… this was someone who understood how to move in another person's shadow without leaving weight or heat to trace.
It was enough to make his pulse slow instead of quicken. The hunt was already in play.
As he moved, the academy unfolded around him in its usual morning chaos: first-years clustered around holo-maps, confused about classroom numbers; a trio of upper-years in black formal coats comparing combat tournament rankings with barely disguised contempt; two engineering students wheeling a crate of inert training drones toward the east testing floor.
Beneath it all, his senses stayed tuned for the smallest deviation.
His first pass was just to confirm routine — which hallways ran hot with morning traffic, which stairwells emptied fast, which atriums stayed noisy longer. The second pass was to narrow it down — finding pockets where a tail could hide, bottlenecks that would force them into visibility, windows that could catch their reflection.
"You're taking this personal," EON observed. "I can run an active trace in three seconds flat. Tag their biometrics, cross-reference against—"
"They'd feel it," Vadel cut her off quietly.
"You're that worried about scaring them off?"
"I want them to think I haven't noticed yet."
He drifted toward the east wing, following the slow current of bodies. Students laughed and jostled each other without seeing him, without realizing that every step he took had purpose.
And then — a flicker.
High up, across an intersecting hallway two floors above, a shape moved with deliberate slowness. Not the quick stride of someone late for class, not the distracted meander of someone lost. A controlled pace. Deliberate. Watching.
"Fabric scan," EON said at once. "Color looks standard, but weave is wrong. Shielded against low-frequency scanning. Not issued by the academy."
Vadel didn't glance up. He simply shifted his weight to follow the slow arc of students toward the main atrium, letting the glimpse settle in his mind.
For the next hour, he threaded his route through every possible vantage point. The greenhouse courtyard with its tall glass panes — nothing. The elevated mezzanine in the east library — no sight of them. He was about to write it off as a false read when he cut through the old clock hall.
The space smelled faintly of oil and dust. Tall, arched windows lined one side, each warped just enough to distort reflections. Between them, rows of decommissioned training drones sat like rusted statues, their optics dead and dark.
Movement.
Soft. Low. Just at the edge of vision.
A figure slipping behind the second row of drones.
Vadel's gait didn't change. He kept his hands visible, shoulders loose, feet falling in even rhythm. A faint scrape of a boot sole followed him, masked under the quiet hiss of the climate vents.
"They're tailing you," EON said, tone sharpening.
"I know."
"Want me to cut to the chase?"
"No."
The corridor bent ahead, leading toward the Sigma-4 block. Each step let him catch slivers of movement in the warped reflections. He didn't make the mistake of looking directly — let them believe they were invisible.
But by the time he stepped out into the main hallway, the presence was gone. No footsteps. No shadow. Just the ordinary rhythm of academy life.
Classes came and went — Combat Theory review, Weapon Systems calibration drills, Gene Unit Dynamics lectures. He answered when spoken to, kept his movements deliberate, and listened. Always listened.
That's how he picked out the details in the gossip: a shipment of rare gene cores due next week, a hush-hush rumor about one instructor being suddenly reassigned off-world, an uncomfortably confident whisper that Hung Zanyx's influence stretched all the way into the academy's governance board.
None of it could be ignored.
By late afternoon, the halls had thinned. Most students had broken away toward recreation sectors or dormitories. Vadel took the opposite path, slipping into the maintenance access level beneath the eastern dorm block.
"You're losing sensor coverage," EON warned. "Another twenty meters and I can't monitor anything."
"Then make the next twenty count."
The corridor was narrow, walls painted the dull gray of utility zones. Thin strips of light ran along the floor, and the air smelled faintly of ozone and dust.
A shadow moved at the far end.
This time, he didn't hesitate. His steps quickened, breath steady, his right hand brushing the edge of his coat where the dagger sat ready.
The corner ahead bent sharply left. He took it fast — and found only a locked storage door.
No sound. No movement. No trace.
He crouched briefly, fingertips brushing the floor. Not a single fresh scuff mark in the dust, no subtle shift in air currents. Whoever it was had left clean.
"They're better than I thought," EON admitted.
"It's not Celia," he said flatly.
"You sound sure."
"She doesn't hide like this. She wants me to see her."
EON gave a quiet hum, as if filing that away for later.
The rest of the evening, Vadel kept his route unpredictable — crossing between dorm sectors, doubling back through the commons, stepping into an unused holo-classroom just to see if anyone would follow. No one did.
Not openly.
It wasn't until long after lights-out that he stood by the dorm window, looking down on the academy. The glass dome glimmered faintly under the nightlamps, its arcs of steel and crystal like the ribs of some sleeping beast.
Somewhere out there, in that maze of corridors and glass, someone was watching him.
He could almost feel their patience.
He smiled faintly to himself.
Let them watch. For now.