Kael returned just before the first morning bell, slipping through the side gate unnoticed. Or so he thought.
The guards saw him.
They just said nothing.
The look in his eyes—the dried blood on his clothes—spoke more than any excuse could.
He reached his dorm in silence, stripped out of his scorched tunic, and cleaned the wounds on his ribs using cold water from the basin. His reflection in the cracked mirror stared back, tired and grim.
No one would ever know what he faced.
And somehow, that made it even more satisfying.
---
Later, at the training grounds, Kael joined the line like he always did. His posture was relaxed, even casual. But his footwork was sharper. His balance more grounded. It didn't scream power.
Theron narrowed his eyes when Kael passed. His usual smirk faltered.
"What happened to your face?" Darian asked, pointing to the faint scar near Kael's jaw.
Kael didn't answer.
"Probably tripped in the library," Jerris laughed, but the unease in his voice was noticeable.
Kael didn't glance their way.
And that was what unsettled them the most.
---
Professor Lioren watched the day's drills in thoughtful silence. Kael didn't perform any extraordinary feats. He didn't lift boulders or summon fire from the sky.
But his timing was different.
His footwork, impossible to read.
His parries, quiet but perfect.
He had evolved.
And Lioren wasn't the only one who noticed.
---
Naya sat with her friends beneath the shade of a gnarled arcwood tree, her books untouched on her lap. Her gaze kept drifting toward Kael as he moved through the forms.
He didn't limp anymore.
He moved as if he knew something no one else did.
And she wanted to know what it was.
"You've been watching him a lot," one of her friends, Celaine, teased.
"He's… interesting," Naya said absently.
"More like suspicious," muttered Avenna. "I still think he's lying about not having a Star Sign."
Naya smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Suspicious or not, Kael had done something no one else could: made her curious enough to wonder.
---
That evening, Professor Lioren called a private meeting—with only the headmaster and the Archon of Records present.
He closed the door behind them and spoke without pleasantries.
"The boy," he said. "Kael."
"Yes?" said the headmaster, adjusting his glasses.
"He returned this morning with injuries consistent with exposure to live flame and claw strikes. No assignments have been issued beyond the outer perimeter this week. No faculty oversaw his absence."
"He's a troublemaker, then?" the Archon asked.
"No," Lioren said softly. "He's a survivor."
Silence stretched long.
"You suspect something?" the headmaster asked.
"I suspect everything."
---
That night, Kael slipped into the old library again. But this time, he didn't hide.
Naya followed him.
He stood before the fire pit at the center of the library chamber, the room dim except for its warm glow.
"I knew you'd come," he said without turning.
She stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed.
"I don't know who you are," she said quietly. "But I don't believe the Kael I met two weeks ago could've moved the way you did today."
Kael didn't speak.
"Did you leave the academy grounds?"
He didn't confirm. Didn't deny.
"I should report you," she said.
Kael finally turned, meeting her eyes. "Then why haven't you?"
Naya faltered.
Because part of her wanted answers.
And part of her… wanted to understand what this strange, silent boy carried behind those guarded eyes.
"I don't like mysteries," she said.
"Then stay away from me," Kael replied. "I'm nothing but one."
He walked past her and into the shelves.
And for the first time in her life, Naya couldn't tell if she wanted to stop him—or follow.