The fire mark had faded.
But the ripples hadn't.
Karl stood at the edge of the trial platform, cloak half-singed, shirt clinging damp to his back. Steam rose from the stone beneath his feet — but no one stepped forward.
No instructors.
No applause.
Just silence.
The kind that came before rumors bloomed.
He walked off the platform slowly. Carefully.
Eyes followed him.
Students leaned in to whisper.
"That wasn't just a flame affinity—"
"Did you feel the pressure? Like something was pressing down?"
"I heard his shirt glowed. His chest. Something pulsed from it—"
Karl didn't look back.
He kept walking.
Keep your head down. Keep moving.
But as he passed the stone fountain near the edge of the courtyard, someone stepped into his path.
Tall. Clean uniform. Dark brown hair tied back, face sharp but not unkind.
Not posturing. Not glaring.
Just… standing there.
"That was impressive," the boy said.
Karl blinked.
"You don't even know what it was."
"Doesn't matter. You didn't back down."
He extended a hand.
"Kael Dren. Combat track. Year one."
Karl hesitated—then shook it.
"Karl."
The boy grinned faintly.
"I know. Everyone knows."
Before Karl could reply, a familiar voice cut in.
"There he is! Ice-boy turned firewalker!"
Nyra skidded up beside them, cheeks full of something she was chewing — again.
"Word is spreading. You might wanna tone down the dramatic exits."
Karl raised an eyebrow.
"That wasn't the plan."
"Good. Makes you scarier."
Kael gave a short nod to both and stepped away, but not before saying:
"We'll probably be assigned to the same sparring rotation. I'll try not to hold back."
"Same," Karl replied simply.
As the students returned to their dorms and the fire trial ended, Karl sat alone under the archway leading toward the South Tower. The stone beneath him was warm. The evening sky burned orange above.
He pulled a pendant from under his collar.
Tiny. Metal. Worn with time.
A gift from Rae. His little sister.
He clutched it gently.
"I'm still me. Still yours. Just… walking through fire now."