The vaulted silence

The heavy oak door of the Ivory Academy library closed behind Adam with a soft, definitive thud. After the echoing shouts of the combat arena, the silence here felt immense. Towering mahogany shelves soared toward a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Slanting afternoon light streamed through high windows, illuminating countless tomes. The air smelled of ancient paper and beeswax.

Adam exhaled, tension leaching from his shoulders. Storm, perched on his shoulder, ruffled his feathers. Sanctuary.

He navigated the labyrinthine aisles until he found Runology: Historical Development & Foundational Principles. Pulling out Comparative Runic Scripts, he settled at a secluded alcove table. Storm hopped onto the tabletop as Adam sketched the rune from Thorne's class, complex, fluid, older than modern forms.

Page after page, he searched. Then, Plate XXIII: Early Arcanum Scripts (Pre-Consolidation Era). The rune resembled his, an archaic, potent design abandoned for its "prohibitive energetic cost." Adam's fingers trembled. He hadn't invented it; he'd remembered it.

A shadow fell across his notes.

"Look what we have here!" Darian, sandy-haired, sharp-chinned, snatched the book with a mocking grin. Jax, broad-shouldered with a crooked nose, leaned against the table. Two others lurked behind them: Ryn, wiry and twitchy, and Tobin, silent and watchful.

"Comparative Runic Scripts?" Darian sneered. "Bit heavy for someone who learned his letters in the countryside, eh?" He dropped the book with a thud.

Jax slid into the chair beside Adam, reeking of sweat. "Heard you got special attention today. Paired with the ghost. Garrick must pity the boy who can't hold a sword."

Adam snorted.

Jax's face flushed crimson. "Think that's funny?" His haymaker came clumsily. Adam caught his wrist, twisted, and leveraged Jax's momentum, wrenching his arm over the table.

Ryn lunged with a kick. Adam shoved Jax into him, then pivoted, his boot connecting with Ryn's temple. Ryn crumpled into a bookshelf; tomes avalanched around him.

Storm shrieked. Blue-white lightning crackled from his feathers, striking Ryn's outstretched arm. The scent of ozone filled the air.

Darian paled. "You freak! This isn't over!" They dragged Ryn away, leaving scattered books and singed fabric.

Slow clapping echoed.

Kael leaned against a shelf, grinning. "Not bad." He tossed Draconis Minor: Physiology and Symbiosis onto the table, open to a diagram of Storm's lightning nodes. "Your emotions trigger him. Control it, or you'll burn him out."

Adam's stomach dropped.

Kael stood. "Follow me."

They wound through back corridors to a Spartan dormitory. The room was small, with rough stone walls and two sets of wooden bunk beds. A single shuttered window cast thin light. Personal effects, a whetstone, a folded tunic, were arranged with military precision. The left upper bunk lay bare.

Kael nodded to it. "Our room now."

Storm claimed the mattress instantly, tucking his head under his wing. Kael's mouth twitched, almost a smile.

"Adam, right?"

"Yeah."

"Call me Kael." The door clicked shut.

Alone, Adam stared at the ceiling, the day's weight pressing down: ancient runes, violent confrontations, Storm's fragile biology, and Kael's inscrutable gaze. Control. He'd need it, for Storm's sake.