The Academy was quieter than usual that morning. Rumors of the Riftbeast attack still buzzed through the halls, but a low, simmering tension threaded every corner. Instructors walked with sharper focus, students whispered behind closed doors, and the Riftlight above pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat carrying warning.
Ren moved through the corridors, satchel swinging loosely, trying to appear casual. But beneath his calm exterior, his chest ached with anticipation. His abilities had grown since the last encounter, and the warmth that hummed beneath his skin no longer felt like a secret—it felt like a living pulse, aware, responsive.
He paused at the edge of the courtyard, eyes scanning the training yard where Lucien was already supervising. Golden-boy perfection on display: posture impeccable, uniform flawless, hands lightly clasped behind his back. Students watched him like a sun, oblivious to the subtle twitch of shadows coiling at his feet.
Ren let a small smirk curl his lips. "I swear, you don't have to watch me all the time," he muttered under his breath, fingers twitching at the satchel strap. "I can handle myself… mostly."
Lucien's eyes flicked toward him, storm-gray and unreadable. A faint pull of shadows hinted at recognition, just for him. Public Lucien didn't give away anything, but the shadows whispered otherwise.
"Mostly isn't enough," Lucien said softly, stepping closer. Quiet, controlled, just enough to make Ren's chest tighten.
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Ah. My very own shadowy guardian. Lucky me."
Lucien didn't respond—he never did in public. But the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth was enough to make Ren's pulse spike.
The first class of the day, Combat Theory, was interrupted by a sudden alert. The Rift above the western tower flared violently, a jagged scar pulsing violet and black. Alarms rang through the Academy as instructors shouted orders.
Students scattered, panic threading through the ranks. Ren's body reacted before his mind could catch up: warmth surged beneath his skin, pulsing toward the nearest injured student. A stray piece of shattered stone had grazed a trainee's arm. He touched it, and the wound knit instantly.
The trainee gasped, stunned. Others stared. Even Lucien, moving with precise efficiency through the chaos, let his eyes linger on Ren a moment longer than necessary.
Then came the voice. Low, powerful, echoing in Ren's mind rather than the air: Xylos watches. His patience thins.
Ren froze, heart hammering. Eidros coiled at Lucien's back, reacting to the warning. Lucien's storm-gray eyes darkened, shadow edges flickering.
"You hear that?" Ren asked quietly, panic and fascination threading his voice.
Lucien's mouth twitched faintly, the corner of a smile just barely threatening. "I do. Xylos tests from afar. For now, he watches."
Ren swallowed. "Tests… what?"
Lucien stepped closer, shadows tightening around him like living armor. "He seeks weakness. In you. In me. In all of us. Every bond. Every power. Every secret."
Ren's chest constricted. "And if he finds it?"
Lucien's gaze hardened, the storm-gray eyes flaring with a shadowed edge. "Then we fight. And survive. Together."
The word together hit Ren harder than the Rift energy pulsing beneath his skin. He clenched his fists in his pockets, forcing a teasing tone. "You say that like I have a choice."
Lucien's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps you do," he said, calm, cordial—public Lucien. And yet… the shadows at his feet whispered a promise only Ren could feel.
Later that evening, Ren found himself in the rooftop practice yard again, shadows stretching long under the Riftlight. He flexed his fingers, testing the warmth beneath his skin. Healing, shaping, controlling—it no longer felt foreign. But every pulse came with exhaustion, a faint nausea creeping into his chest.
Lucien appeared without sound, as always. Public Lucien—polite, composed, unbothered by the world—but the shadow edge lingered, just beneath his golden-boy mask.
"You push too hard," Lucien said quietly. "Even alone."
Ren smirked despite the tension. "And if I do? You gonna scold me, or… hover like a shadowy specter again?"
Lucien's storm-gray eyes caught his, shadows curling faintly. "I will warn you," he said softly. "Nothing more. You will learn limits—whether willingly or not."
Ren's chest tightened. He wanted to roll his eyes, to joke, to tease—but the bond pulsing beneath his ribs made the words stick. He swallowed. "I'll try… mostly."
Lucien didn't smile. Not entirely. But the shadows shifted closer, protective, deliberate. Close enough that Ren could feel the pull, the quiet acknowledgment of connection.
Above, the Rift pulsed once, faint but insistent. A warning, a reminder, a promise. Outworld's king was near.
And Ren knew, with a thrill and a weight in his chest, that the real test—of power, of control, and of hearts—was just beginning.