The sect buzzed with rumor. Whispers of the council's hesitation, of Arhaan's defiance, of Kael's humiliation. Yet the two names hung on every disciple's tongue, bound now like rivals written by fate.
Arhaan walked through the training courtyard at dawn, his expression calm, though unease gnawed quietly in his chest. The chains beneath his skin still thrummed, restless, warning him of shadows unseen.
And then—Kael appeared.
---
The Polished Mask
He stepped into Arhaan's path, robes immaculate, hair bound neatly, his expression calm and collected. Not a trace of the humiliation remained.
"Arhaan," Kael said, inclining his head in a gesture that was almost… respectful.
"I came to offer my thanks."
Arhaan's brow furrowed.
"Thanks?"
"For sparing me," Kael replied smoothly, his smile steady. "You could have crushed me utterly, yet you chose mercy. I was arrogant. Now, I see the truth—you are stronger. I can only hope to learn from it."
The onlookers gasped softly. Kael, bowing his head?
But Arhaan's chains rattled faintly within, sensing something else. His eyes narrowed.
---
The Hidden Fang
"You speak well," Arhaan said slowly.
"But words can't hide the smell of blood."
For a fraction of a second, Kael's crimson-black eyes flickered, before he blinked it away. His smile never faltered.
"Perhaps," he said quietly, leaning closer so only Arhaan could hear, "you mistake pride for hunger."
Arhaan's chest tightened. His chains throbbed harder, warning him like alarm bells.
Kael stepped back, his smile still in place.
"In the next trial, we'll see whose path truly rises. Until then… watch the shadows, brother."
He walked away, disciples parting for him, whispering at his sudden humility. But Arhaan stood still, his fists clenched.
Because he knew—
Kael hadn't bowed. He had bared his fangs.