The training field had become as familiar to Icarus as his own heartbeat.Every morning, he walked the dirt path leading to it, Rowan chattering endlessly at his side, Selene often arriving with poised grace, and Sir Alaric always making some sort of dramatic—or clumsy—entrance.
That day began no differently. The sun crept lazily over the horizon, staining the sky with shades of amber. Birds chirped from the edges of the field, and dew still clung to the grass. But for Icarus, something felt… off. He couldn't quite place it yet. The air tasted faintly metallic, sharp on his tongue, and the usual hum of magic seemed oddly restless.
Still, he said nothing. Rowan wouldn't notice, Alaric would make a joke out of it, and Selene… perhaps she'd sense it, but it wasn't strong enough to raise alarm. For now.
Rowan vs. Fireball, Round Three
"Ladies, gentlemen, and prodigies of questionable competence!" Sir Alaric boomed, standing atop the same training barrel he seemed to prefer for announcements. "Today, we move beyond the basics! We've mastered control—"
Rowan muttered, "Some of us barely survived control—"
"—and now we master coordination!" Alaric declared, ignoring him. "For even the mightiest flame is but a spark if wielded alone. But together! Together we are—"
He attempted a heroic pose, slipped, and nearly toppled off the barrel. Rowan caught him at the last moment, grinning. "You were saying? Together we are… clumsy?"
Alaric coughed, adjusting his armor. "Ahem. Together we are… invincible!"
Selene sighed, though her lips twitched with amusement. Icarus folded his arms silently, waiting.
Rowan was the first to volunteer. "I'll go first! Moon-Eyes and I will demonstrate teamwork that'll make even dragons jealous!"
Icarus glanced at him. "…Should I be concerned?"
"Yes," Selene said flatly.
Rowan ignored them both, puffing out his chest. "Fireball, here I come!"
He held his hand out, chanting dramatically. For a moment, sparks danced at his fingertips, and then—a burst of flame exploded outward, larger than anything he had produced before. His eyes widened in delight. "It worked! It's huge!"
Unfortunately, it was also heading straight for Alaric.
"By the gods!" Alaric yelped, diving behind the barrel as the fireball whizzed past and detonated harmlessly against the practice dummy. The dummy went up in flames.
Rowan pumped his fist proudly. "Success!"
"Failure," Selene corrected, conjuring a whip of water and dousing the flames before they spread.
Rowan pouted. "You're just jealous my fireball had personality."
"Your fireball had arson," she shot back.
Icarus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rowan, try again. But this time, don't aim at our Commander."
Alaric peeked out from behind the barrel, soot smudging his cheek. "Yes, please. I'm too young to die of friendly fire."
Icarus's Calm
When it was Icarus's turn, he stepped forward with quiet confidence. He didn't bother with dramatic chanting. A flick of his wrist summoned a thin stream of fire. He shaped it into a controlled sphere, then split it into three smaller flames, juggling them with calm precision.
Selene's eyes lingered on him, her lips curving faintly. "Always so composed. It's almost unfair."
Rowan huffed. "Show-off. Some of us prefer the chaotic genius approach."
"Chaotic, yes," Icarus murmured.
Selene smothered a laugh behind her hand. Rowan scowled.
Alaric clapped his hands, beaming. "Excellent! Perfect control, no accidental barbecue. That, Rowan, is what we aim for."
Rowan muttered under his breath, "I prefer extra crispy."
Lunch and Rumors
By midday, the group collapsed under the shade of a large oak, passing around bread, cheese, and fruits. Rowan had somehow acquired an entire roasted chicken, though he swore he had "no idea" where it came from.
Selene arched a brow. "You stole that from the village inn, didn't you?"
Rowan gasped in mock offense. "Princess, please. Do I look like a thief?"
"Yes," Icarus and Selene said in unison.
Rowan deflated. "Well… you're not wrong." He tore into the chicken anyway.
As they ate, villagers passed by the field, some greeting the young trainees, others whispering amongst themselves. Icarus caught snippets of conversation.
"…strange lights near the forest last night…"
"…animals restless, howling at nothing…"
"…could be bandits, or worse…"
He closed his eyes briefly, focusing. He could feel it again—that faint metallic tang in the air, the restless hum of magic. Something was stirring, though it was subtle enough that most dismissed it as paranoia.
But not him. His Moonborn senses whispered that this was no ordinary disturbance.
Afternoon Ripples
Training resumed after lunch. Alaric set up a new exercise: combining elements for teamwork. Icarus and Selene paired up, their coordination seamless. Her water whip flowed effortlessly into his wind currents, creating a spiraling torrent that cut through stone.
Rowan tried to join in, attempting to "add a little fire flair." He succeeded only in singeing his own boots.
"I meant to do that," he said, hopping on one foot.
Selene sighed, extinguishing the flames with a snap of her fingers. "You're hopeless."
Rowan grinned. "Hopelessly handsome?"
"Hopelessly combustible," she replied.
Alaric groaned. "Children, focus! The battlefield is no place for flirting—"
"We're not—!" both Rowan and Selene shouted at the same time, though Selene's cheeks flushed slightly. Icarus simply tilted his head, unreadable.
And then, it happened.
The sky rippled.
For a moment, it was subtle, like heat haze shimmering in the distance. But then the air thickened, heavy with an unnatural pressure. Icarus felt it first—sharp, metallic, like a blade against his skin. His silver eyes widened, reflecting the sky's distortion.
Selene frowned, looking up. "Did you see that?"
Rowan squinted. "See what? I just see clouds. Boring clouds."
Alaric's brow furrowed. He saw nothing, but he trusted instinct. "Moonborn, what is it?"
Icarus's voice was quiet, steady. "The sky whispered."
They stared at him, puzzled.
"Magic," he clarified. "Not ours. Something foreign. Wrong."
The pressure faded as quickly as it had come, leaving only the usual blue expanse overhead. Rowan laughed nervously. "Well… that's creepy. Maybe you just need more sleep."
But Icarus knew better. This was no dream. Something had brushed against the fabric of their world—and it had noticed him.
The Dream
That night, Icarus slept restlessly. Shadows pressed at the edges of his mind, curling into strange, twisted forms. He stood on a barren plain beneath a blood-red sky, whispers swirling around him like a storm.
"Moonborn…"
The voice was neither male nor female, but something vast and echoing. "You shine too brightly. The darkness will come for you."
A shadowy hand reached toward him. His silver eyes flared with light, and the dream shattered.
He awoke, breath heavy, moonlight streaming through his window. The moon itself seemed unnaturally bright, glowing with silver radiance that pulsed like a heartbeat. It bathed him in light, almost… alive.
He sat up, pressing a hand to his chest. So. It begins.
Urgent News
The next morning, Sir Alaric arrived at the training field unusually early. His armor was hastily buckled, his usual grin absent. In his hand, he held a rolled parchment, the seal broken.
"A messenger hawk arrived at dawn," he said grimly. "Reports from the northern border. Strange disturbances. The sky… rippling. Villages claim they hear whispers at night."
Selene stiffened. "The same thing Icarus sensed yesterday."
Rowan paled. "Okay… now it's creepy and real."
Alaric looked at Icarus, his expression serious. "Moonborn, I don't know how, but you felt it before anyone else. Whatever this is… it's coming closer."
Icarus's silver eyes gleamed beneath the morning light, calm but resolute. Then I'll be ready.
The sky above stretched vast and innocent, but to Icarus, it whispered promises of shadows yet to come