Chapter Two: Where the Pulse Still Waits
Part Five: The Silver Spark Beneath His Skin
Date: Junilis 4th, Year 204 PCR
Location: Veilmark Atrium – Lyceum
"Zephryn," the instructor's voice snapped sharp as the Veilmark field trembled.
Everyone froze.
The classroom pulsed.
Faint at first.
Then rising.
The circular atrium, lined with crystalline symbols and harmonic rings, flickered with resonance pulses as the instructor stepped between the ranks of students. She was tall, her robe flaring like a veil-cut stream, braid of black and copper falling over one shoulder.
Instructor Liraen.
Every student at the Lyceum learned her name the hard way.
"You were given a very simple command," she said without raising her voice.
Zephryn stood in the center of the ring—gaze lowered, fingers half-curled, shoulders hunched like they were trying to keep something from escaping.
"I didn't do anything," he said.
"That," Liraen said, eyes narrowing, "is the problem."
A low hum filled the air.
The Veilmark field—the dome of harmonic thread circling the training chamber—shimmered like the air over flame. Every student could feel it: that sudden shift in tension, the prickling at the back of their necks.
Selka and Kaelen stood with the rest of Echo Unit along the far wall, watching.
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
Selka's fingers twitched.
Then—
A flicker.
Just for a second.
A glyph, silver and jagged, not drawn but carved from light itself, spiraled across Zephryn's left forearm in a single ghost-trace.
The students gasped.
Then the dome pulsed—hard.
Everyone stumbled.
Liraen stepped back instinctively, eyes wide. Not from fear. From recognition.
That glyph shouldn't exist.
Not like that.
Not in someone his age.
"Class dismissed," she said sharply. "Now."
No one argued.
Medic Unit scrambled first, then Recon. The rest of Echo lingered—torn between backing up and stepping forward.
Selka stayed.
Kaelen too.
Zephryn turned, hand now limp at his side. His breathing was shallow, his eyes glazed.
Kaelen stepped forward. "Z—"
"Don't," Zephryn cut in, voice shaking. "It wasn't supposed to happen again."
Liraen approached slowly. "Where did you learn to cast that?"
"I didn't," he said. "It… it just shows up. It's like it remembers me even when I don't remember myself."
Liraen's voice softened, just slightly. "Your Veilmark. It's not reacting like the others."
Selka approached beside him. "He's always been different. Even before…"
Her voice faded.
Liraen tapped the atrium console. The harmonic dome dimmed.
"We'll move you to the lower chambers," she said to Zephryn. "Privately. No more casting in the open until we understand what this is."
Kaelen stepped up beside them. "He doesn't belong in the lower chambers."
"And you're not the one deciding who belongs where," she replied coolly. "He's unstable. That's all that matters."
Zephryn didn't argue.
He just looked at his hand—the one with the silver glyph. His pulse throbbed faintly under the skin.
A part of him wanted to hide.
A louder part wanted to know.
Selka touched his shoulder. "You didn't lose control."
"I wasn't in control," he whispered.
Behind them, across the glass edge of the chamber, something shimmered—
A gloved hand.
A figure standing in the mist outside the Lyceum dome.
Gone in a blink.
Zephryn's hum stopped for just a moment.
Like it was listening to someone else.