There was a sound before the pain.
Like distant wind over hollow stone. A rhythm, pulsing low and slow, steady as a heartbeat—but not his own.
Ren drifted upward through the dark.
Then came sensation: the weight of his body, the sting in his chest, the cold edge of metal against his fingertips.
His eyes opened.
Blinding light poured through the infirmary's ceiling.
He flinched, shutting them again.
Even behind closed lids, he could still see it—That thing.The beast.The teeth.The black eyes.
And then—him.
Lucien.
And that... voice.Not Lucien's.
Something older. Something inside.
He sat up too fast and pain flared along his ribs. A quiet groan slipped out of him.
"You're awake."
The voice wasn't in his head this time.
Ren turned toward the sound.
Lucien sat in the corner chair, posture straight, hands folded over his knee like he'd been waiting for hours without complaint. His dark uniform was unwrinkled. His face unreadable.
But his eyes were fixed only on Ren.
Not cold.Not warm.Just... aware.
"You're in the recovery wing," Lucien said, rising slowly. "You passed out after the Riftbeast was neutralized."
Ren swallowed. "I remember…"
His fingers gripped the edge of the cot.
Lucien moved to stand beside him but kept a careful distance.
"You were injured. Minor bruising. Exhaustion. But no Rift infection." He paused. "That's rare. The beast was too close not to contaminate you."
Ren blinked. "Wait. I was… clean?"
Lucien nodded once. "I checked myself."
Something about the way he said it made Ren's ears burn.
Not the words.
The certainty.
Silence settled.
Ren stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers. They felt normal—but something wasn't. Beneath his skin, something pulsed faintly. Not pain. Not power. Something in-between.
"You saved me," he said finally.
Lucien didn't nod. Didn't take credit.
"I was in the area."
Ren snorted lightly. "Lucky me."
Lucien didn't smile, but something flickered in his gaze. A shift. Subtle, like a light through smoke.
"You were very calm for someone who'd never seen one that close."
"I wasn't," Ren said. "I was terrified."
Lucien tilted his head. "Then you hid it well."
A strange silence followed—not awkward, just heavy with something unspoken.
Ren finally looked up at him. Full-on.
Lucien was beautiful in that strange, untouchable way. His eyes were a soft, stormy gray—not like the storm you hear, but the one you see right before lightning breaks. The kind that makes your heart beat a little faster without knowing why.
Ren hated how aware he was of that.
He looked away again.
Then Lucien spoke, lower now.
"There's something else."
Ren's chest tightened.
"I felt… something," Lucien continued, stepping closer. "When I helped you up."
Ren blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You pulsed."
"I—what?"
Lucien's eyes narrowed. Not in accusation. In calculation.
"Rift energy. Dormant. Then active."
Ren shook his head. "That's impossible. I've had a dozen scans. I'm not—"
"—Manifested," Lucien finished. "I know."
Another pause.
"But that doesn't mean there's nothing there."
Ren's hands curled in his lap.
It couldn't be.
He'd spent years being reminded he wasn't like the others. Watching them train with their powers—gravity benders, elementalists, kinetic warpers—while he memorized safety protocols and sat in auxiliary roles.
He'd accepted it.
Hadn't he?
Then why was his chest aching now?
Lucien sat beside the bed this time, closer.
"When I touched you… something responded to Eidros."
Ren froze.
"Eidros?"
Lucien's gaze turned distant. "My symbiote. The entity you saw—when the shadows moved."
Ren's heart skipped.
"So it's… alive?"
Lucien nodded. "It's not a spell. Or a tool. It's bonded to me. We share power. Will. Sometimes thoughts."
"That sounds… terrifying."
"It is," Lucien said softly.
That answer caught Ren off guard. It was so human. No bravado. No pride. Just truth.
And in that moment, Lucien didn't seem like the Academy's golden boy. He seemed like someone shouldering a burden far heavier than most people could see.
Ren hesitated. "What did it say? Eidros."
Lucien's eyes flicked to him.
He studied Ren for a long beat.
Then finally: "It said, 'So this is the one.'"
Ren stared.
His throat went dry.
He didn't know what he'd expected—maybe a growl, a warning, a threat.
Not that.
Lucien stood again.
"You should rest," he said, voice quieter now.
"I'm not tired."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't rest."
He moved toward the door.
Ren felt a sudden, irrational panic spike in his chest.
"Wait," he said, before he could stop himself.
Lucien paused at the threshold.
Ren's voice dropped. "Are you going to tell anyone? About what happened to me?"
Lucien turned his head slightly. "Do you want me to?"
Ren hesitated. Then shook his head.
Lucien nodded once.
"Then I won't."
He opened the door.
A sliver of light spilled into the room.
"Lucien?" Ren said quietly.
Lucien looked back.
"Thank you."
A beat passed.
Then Lucien's lips curved—barely, a whisper of a smile.
And then he was gone.
Ren slumped back against the pillows.
His heart was racing.
His skin tingled.
And somewhere deep inside, the echo of that whisper stirred again:
"So this is the one…"