Enemies Hidden Among Us

A familiar chill gently filled the room. Candlelight flickered, trying to keep their form as best they could.

“It’s extra chilly today,” the head nurse muttered to herself, getting up from her desk and walking toward the window. Shivering, she quickly closed it and paused to stare at the night sky. The moon hid behind faint clouds, its light barely illuminating the courtyard ahead.

“I pray for a safe winter.” She whispered, adjusting her glasses from the center with a finger. The moonlight reflecting on both lenses, half-shadowing her eyes. She walked over to Soren’s bedside, noticing his cheeks flushed from the cold. Opening a nearby cabinet, she pulled out a folded sheet and unraveled it.

“Don’t die on me, Mr. Stubborn Mage,” she said, as she placed it properly on Soren’s body until the thinner one underneath was fully hidden.

Putting her hands back across her shivering body, she walked toward her desk.
“Maybe I should get a cup of tea.” She said staring at the chair before pushing it in. Turning toward the door, she passed by the other empty beds in the room. Upon having a foot outside in the marbled hallway, she looked back at the unconscious boy near the window and told herself she’d be right back. Closing the door behind her, she raised a finger. At first glance, the decorative vines along the doorway seemed lifeless, but they began to move and twirl, sealing the frame shut.

“Good.” She turned toward the hallway, cupping her hands around her mouth and blowing.
“Would have been great to be a fire mage right about now,” she muttered.

“About time.” A voice whispered as a shadowed form stepped out nearby. Dark clothes cloaked the body, hands hidden in pockets. Approaching the infirmary door, the intruder examined the web of vines securing it in place. With a quiet motion, a small knife appeared, glistening faintly in the moonlight.

The stranger raised it, pointing toward the barrier. Air stirred at their feet, rising and coiling around the body until it reached the blade enhancing its sharpness. Carefully, avoiding too much noise, the intruder sliced through the hardened plants until the door gave way. Pushing it open with a steady hand, the figure slipped inside, eyes falling on the boy lying unconscious on the far bed.

“I don’t know how you survived, but I’ll make sure you never wake up.”

Step by step, the cloaked one advanced, air-imbued knife lifted high.
“You don’t belong here!” The blade plunged toward Soren’s throat. A brief silence deafened the intensity.

Calm light breaths steadily left Soren’s mouth. Each puff, absorbed by the wind energy around the weapon, stopped in place inches from his neck. Wooden bedposts groaned and twisted, coiling around the intruder’s arm and torso.

“What are you doing!?” The head nurse’s voice cracked from the doorway, one hand stretched forward.

“Tsk.” The assassin clicked their teeth. Wind flared, shredding the wooden bindings. Without hesitation, they raised the knife again, strike aimed for the boy.

“I won’t let you!” The nurse thrust her other hand down, and the room itself seemed to bend. Every splinter of wood stretched toward the assailant, restraining them once more, while Soren’s bed buckled and slid across the floor to her side.

Fury glinted in the stranger’s eyes through the slit of their mask. The knife clattered to the floor, abandoned as both hands whipped into motion, summoning whirling gusts. Wind spirals tore toward the nurse and Soren alike.

“Not on my watch!” she cried, wood from beds, desks, even shelves merging into a wall across the room. The gales battered uselessly against the barrier.

From the hall came the echo of rushing footsteps. Hinges squealed as the familiar sound of a door opened. The nurse cautiously peeled back part of her barricade—just enough to glimpse the attacker perched on the window’s edge.

“Wait!” she shouted, but the cloaked figure leapt into the night without looking back.

The wooden wall crumbled as two professors finally approached behind her, responding to the noise.
“Wh… what happened?!” one demanded, breathless.

“The infirmary was attacked,” she said sharply. “They were after the patient.”

“Where did they go?” the other asked, lantern in hand.

“They escaped through the window. I couldn’t catch them.” Her fists clenched in frustration.

“If one of the top Earth mages in the academy couldn’t catch them, nobody else would have,” the first professor offered, trying to console her.

“I did what I could, but there wasn’t much wood to work with in here.” She paused, then glanced toward the unconscious boy. “Regardless, Mr. Stubborn is safe.”

“I’ll inform the higher-ups immediately!” The one with the lantern bolted down the hall.

“Did you see their face?” the remaining professor asked.

“No,” she replied. “Their whole body was covered—only the eyes showed.” She stepped toward the window, something on the ground catching her attention. Kneeling, she picked it up.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The knife they carried. They must have dropped it.” Turning it over, her eyes narrowed at the mark etched into its hilt.

The Fire Mages’ Sector insignia gleamed up at her.

The crack of dawn spilled through tall, arched windows, streaking the room in pale gold. Dust motes floated in the beams, undisturbed but for the shifting of cloaks and robes. The heavy oak table in the center bore the weight of too many sleepless faces.

The headmaster sat at the far end; fingers laced beneath his chin. His silver hair glinted faintly, but his eyes held the sharpness of a blade.

“Twice in a matter of days,” he said, his voice low, deliberate. “First a dragon, then an intruder in our infirmary.”

A murmur spread across the room.

One professor leaned forward, adorned in the Earth Sect’s robes, his hands joined and elbows rested on the table. “The vines were cut clean. Wind magic—focused and refined. To be able to do that against our Vivian’s magic… Whoever it was, they weren’t an amateur.”

“And the knife?” the headmaster asked.

“Miss Vivian said this dropped from the assailant.” A professor set the blade on the table. The insignia at its base caught the light: the flame crest of the Fire Sect.

A sharp breath came from the end of the table. Master Korrin, the Fire Sect’s representative, set his jaw. “Let’s not be careless. Our sect hammers steel and tempers flame—we don’t spin wind. Whoever carried this out wanted you to believe it was us. They left the blade on purpose.”

Lady Lia, the Frost Sect’s representative, spoke from her seat. “So, we have a weapon pointing one way and magic pointing another.”

“Exactly,” Korrin muttered. “If anything, it was the Wind Sect. And clever enough to hide behind our steel.”

The room went quiet, the tension settling.

The headmaster’s gaze lingered on the blade, but his thoughts turned inward. Wind Sect… my Sect. Was it a rogue? Or one of my own? And what of the dragon? Could the two be connected? The weight of the possibility pressed like stone against his chest, though his face remained unreadable.

They had fragments, but no clean thread to bind them.

Birds heading south could be heard outside. The window, now letting the morning sun in, illuminated the damaged room.

“What!” Konira exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

She stood in front of the two professors on duty the previous night. The head nurse sat at her desk, coffee cup in hand, needing something strong today.

“Don’t worry, the head nurse Vivi is arguably one of the strongest Earth mages at the academy,” one of them said, hands stretched out in front of him, trying to soothe Konira’s anger.

Her focus shifted to the head nurse, whose eyes closed briefly as she sipped from her cup.

“I’m staying here until he wakes from now on. You don’t mind, do you, head nurse?” Konira’s voice softened, gratitude flickering toward the woman who had protected Soren.

“Sure. We can say you still need more time to recover yourself, and I needed to make sure your injuries don’t get worse.”

One of the professors looked visibly unsettled by the idea. “But Vivian, the Fire Sect will question why their star prospect is back in the infirmary…”

“I don’t care!” Konira cut in sharply. “I don’t care about adults who only see me as a weapon anyway!”

“I’ll take responsibility,” Vivian said firmly, eyes scanning her colleagues. Her gaze caught a glimpse of movement across the room, and she noticed Soren’s head shifting faintly from side to side.

Konira’s body followed her line of sight.

A soft stir—then a flutter. Soren’s eyes slowly began to open.

“Soren!” Konira cried, limping toward him on her crutches.

“Soren,” she repeated, kneeling by his bedside and taking his uninjured hand gently in hers.

“K…Koni? Where am I?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, lips trembling.

“Home. Welcome home.”

Tears traced down her cheeks, landing softly on the bedspread. Her smile, warm and unshakable, filled the room with relief.

Soren blinked, taking in the golden glow of the sunlight, the faint smell of the room, the warmth of Konira’s hand. Slowly, he let himself feel the comfort of being alive—and of being seen.