Fractures

“Did you hear?”

The whisper drifted through the corridor as Lucien and his group returned to the Academy grounds, boots scraping faintly against stone. Other students clustered in twos and threes, voices lowered though the tension still carried.

“They say entire villages are getting sick. Something about their veins glowing, like—like fire under the skin.”

“No one’s died, though.”

“Not yet.”

Lucien slowed, his wolf cub padding close to his heel. Its ears twitched, head tilted as though catching every word. Behind him, Toren groaned loudly.

“Seriously? We just got back from dealing with a countryside monster problem, and now you’re feeding me ghost stories?”

“They’re not ghost stories,” Elira said, arms folded across her chest, her tone sharp but edged with unease. She wasn’t the type to cower behind whispers—if she spoke, it was because she was certain enough to challenge doubt. “I overheard a professor speaking with the medics. It’s spreading in certain villages. Veins glowing faintly under the skin, extreme fevers, though no confirmed deaths yet.”

“Sounds… painful,” Lucien murmured.

“Sounds fake,” Toren shot back. “Glowing veins? Come on. That’s just tavern talk.”

“It isn’t,” Elira countered sharply. “And it isn’t the only rumor either. Some say it’s connected to mana itself—like the body’s energy is turning against it.”

That silenced even Toren for a beat.

Arian finally spoke, quiet but sure. “Whether rumor or truth, whispers don’t rise this loud unless something’s stirring. We should be cautious.”

The corridor noise swelled around them—footsteps, laughter, snippets of speculation—but Lucien felt the same chill Arian voiced. After the countryside, after the students who went missing and returned with those strange eyes… this didn’t feel like coincidence.

---

Dinner was meant to ease the tension of the day. Long tables lined the hall, the scent of roasted meats and herbs filling the air. Torches flickered against high stone arches, students laughing louder than usual as though forcing normalcy back into place.

Lucien sat with his usual group: Arian calm and composed, Elira scribbling even between bites, Caelith quiet but watchful, Toren complaining about the portion sizes. Everyone's companion who're yet to be named were besides them. Lucien's cub curled under the table by his boots, a steady warmth.

Across the hall, three of their classmates—the three who had gone missing in the countryside—all eating. Although they're eating separately but something about them felt off—

Lucien studied them discreetly.

Darin Olske, broad-shouldered, brash, always joking in class before. Tonight, his face was pale, jaw set hard. He stabbed his food as though it had wronged him.

Mira Halwen, slim, with pale golden hair always pinned back neatly. Normally cheerful, she hadn’t smiled once. Her hands trembled as she lifted her spoon.

Rynel Farin, dark-eyed, a quieter student, but tonight too quiet. He chewed with mechanical slowness, gaze unfocused.

Something was wrong.

Toren noticed Darin first. “What’s his problem? He looks like he’s about to punch his stew.”

Darin’s hand tightened around his fork. Someone down the table cracked a joke—innocent, forgettable—but Darin’s head snapped up, eyes flashing with sudden fury.

“Shut your mouth,” he snarled. His voice carried, sharp enough to silence three benches.

The boy who’d joked froze mid-laugh, confusion written across his face. Darin shoved his plate aside with a scrape, stood abruptly, and stormed out of the hall.

Murmurs erupted immediately.

“Was that—?”

“Darin?”

“What’s his problem?”

Mira and Rynel didn’t react to that. They weren't close but unlike others their reaction was too dry. They kept eating, silently, mechanically.

Lucien’s wolf cub growled under the table, so soft only he heard. He bent his head slightly, whispering: “You sense it too?”

The cub didn’t answer this time. It just pressed against his leg, body tense.

Arian leaned closer, his silver hair catching torchlight. “He’s unraveling.” 

Lucien nodded faintly. “And no one else sees it.”

“They don’t want to,” Arian replied.

---

The next morning proved worse.

Lucien woke early, wolf cub curled against his chest. For a moment he allowed himself to breathe, warmth sinking into his ribs. Then the bell tolled, summoning them to morning drills.

By the time they gathered in the courtyard, Mira and Rynel were there.

Mira’s pale golden hair hung loose, her eyes shadowed as though she hadn’t slept. When another student asked if she was alright, she only turned away, muttering something under her breath no one caught.

Rynel looked unchanged outwardly, but his gaze—when it flicked across Lucien—felt… wrong. Cold and lingering, like he wasn’t seeing Lucien but through him.

Lucien was kind guy who was friends with many. He was familiar with almost everyone just by a month. He talked to almost everyone so he knews Rynel, Darin nor Mira was like the way they're acting. 

Even Toren, oblivious as ever, scratched the back of his head. “Okay, I’ll admit it. They’re acting creepy.”

Elira’s serpent stirred around her wrist, scales rasping against her sleeve. She frowned. “ Even our companions are reacting. Is it just a coincidence?”

Indeed, Arian’s lynx prowled restlessly, tail lashing. Caelith’s hawk circled above, shrieking more often than usual. Even Toren’s drake spat sparks nervously.

Lucien’s cub pressed closer, growling again. He stroked its fur absently, unsettled by its tension.

Professor Vael arrived, voice cutting sharp through the murmur. “Form ranks. Today’s drills will not wait for idle chatter.”

And so the morning went on, motions repeated, swords clashing, mana flaring. But every time Lucien glanced at Mira, at Rynel, the unease grew. Though Darin was nowhere to seen. Their movements were precise yet hollow, their eyes empty yet burning faintly beneath the surface.

At midday, the three missing students regrouped at the edge of the courtyard. Darin had returned too, jaw clenched, anger simmering under his skin. The three spoke together in low voices, heads bent unnaturally close.

Lucien couldn’t hear them. But his cub’s hackles rose, and when Lucien leaned down, the cub whispered—so faint he barely caught it.

“They’re not themselves.”

Lucien’s pulse skipped. He opened his mouth to ask more, but the cub only pressed its muzzle into his palm, silencing him.

---

That evening, rumors spread again, faster, louder.

More whispers of glowing veins, fevers that didn’t end, strange disappearances in countryside villages. Students traded speculation like currency, some scoffing, others pale with fear.

“I’ve been tracing mentions. The disease isn’t contained. Reports from three regions now. And the symptoms…” Elira hesitated, her voice dropping. “They match what we saw. The villagers. Their pallor. The trembling. And—”

Lucien felt the chill settle deeper. “And now three of our own?”

“Yes.” Elira closed her book with a snap. “But we can’t prove anything yet. If we raise alarm without evidence—”

“They’ll call it paranoia,” Lucien finished.

Elira nodded grimly.

Arian approached then, silver lynx pacing at his side. “We watch. We wait. But stay ready. Whatever this is, it won’t remain hidden much longer. The air changing faster.”

Lucien glanced at the wolf cub, who looked up at him with eyes glowing faintly gold. He remembered its whispered warning, Stay close. Don’t trust them.

He exhaled slowly, dread curling in his gut. The countryside mission was supposed to be simple. But this—this was the start of something far larger. 

---

Later, in the quiet of his room, Lucien sat with his wolf cub curled against his lap. Moonlight slanted through the window, silvering its fur.

“You knew, right?” Lucien whispered. “From the beginning, you knew something was wrong with them?”

The cub blinked up at him. Then, in that same low, restrained voice, it said,

“You finally see it too.”

Lucien’s breath caught. His chest tightened. But before he could demand more, the cub yawned, pressed its head into his chest, and went still.

Leaving Lucien staring at the shadows, unease heavy as stone. I see it too?

Tomorrow, things would fracture further. He could feel it.

And somewhere in the Academy, three of his classmates sat awake, eyes gleaming faintly in the dark. Trying to survive. 

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