Unseen currents

The final, piercing shriek of Instructor Garrick's whistle echoed off the arena walls, releasing the pent-up energy of the combat class. Adam lowered his wooden practice sword, his shoulder throbbing where Kael's precise counter-tap had landed moments before. Sweat stung his eyes, and his muscles trembled with a mixture of exertion and lingering frustration. Across from him, Kael stood impassive, not a hair out of place, his breathing steady. He gave Adam one final, unreadable look, a flicker of assessment that seemed to catalogue every flaw exposed in the last hour, then turned without a word and melted back towards his solitary corner near the heavy doors.
"Well," Lira appeared at Adam's elbow, peeling off her heavy gauntlets. Her knuckles were slightly reddened, but she looked energized rather than drained. "That looked, educational."
Adam grimaced, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Educational? More like getting dissected by a stone statue."
Lira chuckled, falling into step beside him as students streamed out of the arena. "Kael doesn't waste words. Or movement. Consider it efficient brutality." She nudged him. "He also doesn't get paired with just anyone. Garrick must see something."
Adam wasn't sure if that was comforting or terrifying. He glanced back. Kael was already leaning against the wall again, a solitary figure amidst the departing crowd, his gaze distant once more. The faint pale line down his neck caught the light. What did Garrick see? Potential? Or just a glaring lack of skill needing correction?
Storm hopped onto Adam's shoulder, letting out a soft, sympathetic chirp and nuzzling his damp temple. Adam reached up, scratching the drake under the chin. Storm had watched the entire session with intense focus, occasionally letting out a low caw when Adam seemed particularly off-balance or when Kael's movements became especially economical and sharp.
The chaos of the academy corridors felt overwhelming after the focused intensity of the combat arena. Students flowed towards the refectory, voices rising in a cacophony of post-class chatter, laughter, and arguments. The air smelled of sweat, damp wool, and the underlying scent of old stone and polish.
They found seats at a long, worn oak table near a high window. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating swirling dust motes. Lira immediately attacked a hunk of dark bread and a bowl of thick vegetable stew. Adam unpacked the cloth bundle Elowen had given him, spiced meat pastries still warm, a wedge of hard cheese, and two honey cakes. He broke off a small piece of pastry and offered it to Storm, who snatched it delicately with his beak.
"So," Lira said around a mouthful of bread, her green eyes fixed on Adam. "The silent shadow. Kael. He's, an experience."
Adam tore off a piece of pastry. "What's his story? Why's he always alone? Why the," He gestured vaguely towards his own neck.
Lira swallowed, her expression turning thoughtful, losing its usual mischief. "Nobody knows much. He showed up maybe a year ago. Garrick brought him in personally. Doesn't talk to anyone. Doesn't join any groups. Just trains. Obsessively. Especially hand-to-hand." She lowered her voice slightly, leaning in. "Rumors say he came from the borderlands near the Scorched Steppes. That scar, people whisper it was a raider's blade. That he was the only survivor."
Adam felt a chill despite the warmth of the refectory. The Scorched Steppes were a lawless buffer zone, rife with bandits and worse. A survivor. Alone. It explained the stillness, the watchfulness, the way he moved like violence was a language he knew fluently. "And Garrick just, lets him be?"
Lira shrugged. "Garrick respects skill. And Kael has skill. More than anyone else here in pure combat, I'd wager. He doesn't cause trouble. He just exists. Like a very dangerous piece of furniture." She took another bite. "Until Garrick points him at someone like a weapon. Like he did with you today."
Adam poked at his stew, the encounter replaying in his mind. The infallible defense, the pinpoint counters, the utter lack of wasted energy. It hadn't felt like training; it felt like being dismantled. "He saw everything," Adam muttered. "Every time I thought about moving, he knew."
"That's his thing," Lira nodded. "He sees. Doesn't miss a twitch. Makes him terrifying in a fight and utterly useless at parties." She grinned, the momentary seriousness fading. "Look on the bright side. If you survive Kael's 'tutelage', sneering Lordling over there," she jerked her chin towards Adam's earlier opponent, who was watching them from another table with a smirk, "will be easy pickings."
Adam managed a weak smile. Survival felt like a low bar. He broke off a piece of honey cake, the sweetness a brief comfort. Storm chirped hopefully, eyeing the treat.
As Adam held out the morsel, a flicker of frustration surged within him, frustration at his own clumsiness, at Kael's silent perfection, at the smirking boy across the room. Unconsciously, his grip tightened slightly on the cake.
Storm, reaching for it, suddenly flinched. A tiny spark, no bigger than a firefly, snapped between Adam's fingers and the drake's beak with a faint pop.
"Ow!" Adam yelped, more from surprise than pain, snatching his hand back. The honey cake crumbled onto the table. Storm let out a startled caw, ruffling his feathers and blinking rapidly.
Lira's eyes widened. "Whoa! What was that? Static?" She peered at Adam's fingers, then at Storm.
Adam flexed his hand, staring at the spot where the tiny spark had appeared. It hadn't felt like static. It had felt, sharp. Sudden. Like a miniature bolt of contained lightning. He looked at Storm. The drake was shaking his head, looking slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. He eyed the fallen honey cake crumbs warily.
"I, don't know," Adam said slowly, his heart pounding. He remembered the strange warmth in his hands during the energy manipulation class, the faint blue glow when he'd modified the rune. And now this. A spark born of his frustration, channeled through his touch to Storm. "Did I, hurt you?" he asked Storm softly.
Storm tilted his head, then cautiously pecked at a crumb. He chirped, a sound that seemed more curious than distressed.
Lira was still staring, her earlier levity gone. "That wasn't normal static, Adam." Her voice was low, serious. "Storm reacted. Like he felt it. Properly."
Adam closed his hand into a fist, then opened it. Nothing. Just his ordinary, slightly calloused palm. Had he imagined it? But Lira had seen it too. And Storm had definitely felt it.
He looked up, scanning the refectory. Had anyone else noticed? Most students were engrossed in their own meals and conversations. But then his gaze snagged.
Across the crowded hall, near the entrance, Kael stood. He wasn't getting food. He was simply, there. Watching. His dark eyes were fixed directly on Adam. Not on Lira. Not on the table. On Adam. And on Storm, who was now perched on Adam's shoulder again, preening a slightly ruffled feather.
The distance was too great to read Kael's expression, but the focused intensity was unmistakable. He'd seen it. The tiny spark. The drake's reaction. The ripple of, whatever it was.
Kael held Adam's gaze for a long, unnerving moment. Then, with the same silent economy he moved with in the arena, he turned and slipped out of the refectory doorway, disappearing into the corridor beyond.
The chatter of the hall seemed to swell, pressing in on Adam. The honey cake tasted like ash in his mouth. His shoulder still ached from the practice sword, but that pain was distant now, overshadowed by the thrum of something new and unsettling in his veins, and the chilling certainty that his silent, scarred observer had just witnessed a secret he hadn't even known he possessed. The shadows within the Ivory Academy seemed to deepen, and one of them had just taken a keen interest in the spark at his fingertips.