The heavy wooden doors of the infirmary creaked open, groaning under their own weight as Kael and the other new cadets stepped inside. Their boots scuffed softly against the polished stone floor, each step echoing with quiet reverence. The smell of antiseptic herbs mingled with the scent of fresh linen and burning incense, the kind used to mask blood and suffering. Light streamed gently through tall, slatted windows that lined one side of the expansive chamber, bathing the space in amber hues and casting long, golden stripes across the rows of neatly arranged beds. The high ceilings added an almost cathedral-like stillness to the room, where even whispers felt loud.
Kael found himself near the front of the group, his pace steady but cautious. Beside him walked Flynn, with his usual swagger slightly subdued by the solemnity of the place. Vanessa trailed just behind, her usually sharp eyes scanning the room with a rare softness. Ryn followed, quiet and watchful. More cadets filed in after them, their chatter low and respectful, excitement simmering beneath their subdued demeanor.
The sound of laughter drew Kael's gaze toward the far end of the infirmary. There, propped up on a cot and wrapped in thick, white bandages, was Nora. Her brown hair was tousled, as if she'd just woken up, and a bruise bloomed purple and yellow beneath her left eye. Yet her smirk—proud, almost defiant—made it clear she bore her injuries like trophies rather than wounds.
Across from her lay Lisa, her arm cradled in a well-tied sling. A long, stitched gash ran from her elbow to her wrist, the skin swollen and discolored. Despite her condition, her eyes gleamed with undiminished fire.
"There's our champion," Flynn said with a grin, striding forward and giving Nora a nod of admiration.
"Queen of the arena!" Vanessa added, snapping a mock salute before smirking.
Nora gave a breathy chuckle. "Flattery will get you nowhere—unless you're asking for a rematch."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Don't let it go to your head. You're only queen until I'm back in the ring."
"Right," Nora teased. "Because you totally had the upper hand while bleeding all over the floor."
"Says the girl who tripped over her own victory lap."
Laughter rippled through the room. Even some of the nurses cracked small smiles as they adjusted bandages and refilled water basins. For a moment, the pain and tension of recent battles were forgotten in that fragile peace.
Kael smiled, his gaze drifting naturally to the wooden training sword laid across Nora's lap. At first glance, it seemed standard, but the dark polish and smooth finish set it apart. A small, intricate engraving near the hilt caught his eye—a spiral design interwoven with twin wings.
His chest tightened.
He stepped forward. "Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice lower than before.
Nora glanced down and lifted the blade slightly. "This? It was a reward. They said it's a traditional blade, given to cadets who show potential. Winning the tournament helped. Why?"
Kael's mind flashed to a memory—the heavy wooden box in their basement , the gleam of the same spiral crest carved into a metal pommel. The sword she always said he wasn't ready to touch.
He muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "So that's why… she said I haven't earned it yet."
"What was that?" Nora tilted her head.
"Nothing," Kael replied quickly. "Just… looks familiar. My dad had one like it. I thought it was a family heirloom."
Vanessa leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Your dad a former champion or something?"
Kael hesitated. "His name was Alfred. He was a knight. Maybe more."
A voice interrupted them—rough, aged, but filled with authority. "Did I just hear you say Alfred?"
Everyone turned. A tall guard stood in the doorway, his armor bearing the insignia of the Sentinels—worn but polished with care. His eyes, sharp beneath bushy brows, locked onto Kael.
Kael blinked. "Yeah… that was my father's name."
The sentinel stepped forward, the light catching on his breastplate. "You're Alfred's boy then. That makes you Philip's grandson."
Kael nodded, now wary. "You knew him?"
The man gave a bitter chuckle, the sound more gravel than humor. "Know him? I served beside him. Just hope you don't end up like him. And maybe… save some glory for your classmates."
Kael's breath hitched. "What? What do you mean?"
The sentinel's face hardened. "You'll understand soon enough."
Then, with the heaviness of secrets unspoken, he turned and exited the room, leaving behind silence more deafening than before.
Kael stood frozen, questions churning like storm clouds in his head.
Flynn stepped closer, his voice low. "What… did your dad do?"
Kael shook his head slowly. "I have no idea."
The rest of the cadets, sensing the sudden tension, slowly wrapped up their visit. They gave their goodbyes to Nora and Lisa, offering words of encouragement and promises to spar again once they were healed. The mood had shifted—less jubilant, more contemplative.
One by one, the cadets trickled out, the infirmary returning to its earlier stillness.
Kael lingered, taking the long road home through the winding stone paths of the academy grounds. The golden afternoon had shifted to dusky orange, casting long shadows between the buildings. Halfway down the main avenue, he caught sight of a familiar figure—Ryn, walking alone.
Kael called out. "Ryn."
The boy turned, visibly tense, as if debating whether to walk away.
Kael jogged to catch up. "You know you can't avoid me forever."
Ryn sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you want me to say?"
Kael kept his tone steady. "I just want to understand. Why?"
Ryn kicked at a pebble, watching it skitter across the path. "I don't know. I guess… I was jealous."
Kael blinked. "Jealous? You come from money. Your house is five times the size of mine. What could you possibly envy?"
"It's not the house," Ryn said, voice quieter now. "It's… you. The way you carry yourself. Like you're not afraid of any of this. Like none of it scares you. And people notice.
Kael stared at him. "I was bullied most of my life. You were one of them."
"I know," Ryn admitted, shame heavy in his voice. "But it's different now. You've changed. People talk about you. And I see the way they look at you—it's like they expect you to be something great."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So that's why you sent assassins to my home?"
Ryn flinched like he'd been struck. "What? No—I didn't—"
"One of the men who attacked us was your butler. Jade."
Ryn's face drained of color. "Jade? No. That can't be. I didn't… I swear, I didn't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I swear on everything," Ryn said, voice cracking. "After you knocked me out at the warehouse, I went home. Jade asked about the bruise. I didn't tell him anything. That was the last I saw of him. I haven't seen Thorne or Silas either—I dismissed them."
Kael studied him. "You awakened that night?"
Ryn nodded. "Yeah. I've been training every day since. Maybe… maybe we should talk to Thorne. He might know something."
Kael gave a slow nod. "Alright. Let's go."
They walked together, the silence between them tense but not hostile. Thorne's home was modest, a small estate on the quieter side of the district. When they knocked, a woman in a neatly pressed uniform answered.
"Ah, Master Ryn. And Kael?" Her eyes flicked between them with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Is everything alright?"
"We need to talk to Thorne," Ryn said.
"Of course. One moment."
Thorne appeared moments later, blinking in surprise. "You two? Together? That's new."
Kael got straight to the point. "Did Jade speak to you?"
Thorne frowned. "Jade? That was months ago. He asked about what happened after the warehouse incident. I told him."
Mrs. Felicia, standing nearby, added, "He seemed interested in loyalty. To the Zaren family. I didn't like the way he spoke."
Kael nodded in thanks. As they walked away, Ryn turned to him. "What really happened to Jade?"
Kael hesitated. Then, quietly: "He's dead."
Ryn stopped. "Did you…?"
"No," Kael said. "My mom did. To protect me."
Ryn's eyes widened. "Your mom… she's a Deviant?"
"Yeah. I didn't know until that night."
Ryn looked stunned. "Your mom's a Deviant. Your dad was a knight. You're like… a secret weapon wrapped in mystery."
Kael gave a short, dry laugh. "More like a curse, some days."
They reached the fork in the road where their paths split.
Ryn stopped. "Kael… I know I can't undo what I did. But I'm sorry. I really am."
Kael studied him. "You were a bully. Then you became a threat. And now you're… trying to be a friend?"
"I don't know," Ryn said honestly. "Maybe I'm still figuring that out. But I do know one thing—I don't want to be your enemy anymore."
Kael was silent for a long moment. Then: "You'll have to earn that."
"I will," Ryn said, voice firm.
"Let's keep this quiet. About my mom. The attack. No one else can know."
Ryn raised his hand. "You have my word. Not a word from me."
They stood there, the air between them charged with past hurts and future possibilities. For the first time, the silence wasn't heavy with resentment—but with the fragile beginning of trust.
"See you tomorrow," Kael said.
Ryn gave a small smile. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
And with that, the two boys parted ways, walking toward uncertain futures, no longer enemies—but not quite friends. Yet.