Adam, Raven, Wren, and Lira walked back to their dorm in a silence that was heavier than before. The relief from the forge had been completely overshadowed.
Wren was the first to break it, the moment their door shut behind them. "Okay, seriously. Who was that guy? I've never seen Kael look like that. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Or made one."
"He didn't just look scared," Lira said, sinking onto her bunk. "He looked hunted."
Raven leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It was an instructor. The robe was clear. But Kael has never shown fear of any instructor, not even the harsh ones. This was personal."
"Maybe it's someone from his family?" Wren suggested, pacing. "He said they cast him out. Maybe it's a nasty uncle come to give him a hard time. Or a school admin who knows his past."
Adam had been quiet, staring at the floor. He finally spoke, his voice low. "It wasn't just Kael's reaction."
The others looked at him.
"When they bumped… I was the closest. I saw the man's face for a second." Adam looked up, his expression troubled. "He didn't look annoyed. He didn't look surprised. As he kept walking… he smirked. It was fast, but I saw it. Like he'd expected it. Like it was funny."
Wren stopped pacing. "You sure? It was a blur from where I was."
"I'm sure," Adam said, the cold feeling returning to his gut. "He meant to bump into him. Or he didn't care, and seeing Kael's shock was… entertaining."
Raven's frown deepened. "That changes it. This wasn't an accident. That was a message."
Meanwhile, at the Administration Building
Kael walked the polished marble halls at the fastest pace just shy of a run. Rules were strict here; running drew attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a counterpoint to the measured, terrifying calm that had settled over his mind.
He reached a familiar oak door, marked with a simple plaque: Instructor Garrick, Tactical History. He knocked, twice, sharp and quick.
"Enter." Garrick's voice was muffled but clear.
Kael opened the door and stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. Garrick's office was orderly, shelves lined with historical treatises and maps. The instructor himself looked up from a report, his initial mild curiosity shifting instantly to sharp concern as he took in Kael's face.
"Kael? What's happened?"
Kael didn't sit, though Garrick gestured to a chair. He stood rigid, his hands clenched at his sides to hide their trembling. "They're here," he said, the words coming out in a strained rush.
Garrick set his pen down slowly. "Who is here?"
"The Revivers."
The name hung in the quiet office like a poison. All the color seemed to drain from Garrick's face. The Revivers. The shadowy organization that had stolen Kael's childhood, that had ripped his family apart. They'd found him when he was young, molded him into a weapon in one of their festering cells. His 'escape' hadn't been an escape at all; he'd only gotten out because a mission went wrong. He'd been posing as a bandit to kidnap a noble's child when Garrick, then a royal soldier, had intercepted them. Garrick had seen the skill in the scrawny, fierce teenager, saw the fear beneath the violence, and had dug until he found the truth.
He'd brought Kael back to his noble family, the House of Frost. But they saw only the criminal, the Reviver's taint on their name. They cast him out, an outcast and a disgrace. Garrick, refusing to abandon a victim of the very shadows he fought, had taken him in and used his influence to secure him a place at the academy under his supervision.
Garrick placed a hand over his eyes for a moment, then stood. "Alright. Calm down. Breathe. Who did you see?"
Kael forced a breath. It shuddered. "Tobey."
Garrick went very still. "Tobey? You're certain?"
"Core group. Enforcer. I'd know his face anywhere." Kael's voice was flat now, the fear burned away into a cold dread. "He's here, in an instructor's robe. Him being here… it means the Revivers have a target. Inside the academy."
Garrick began to pace behind his desk, his mind racing. "A target… It has to be tied to the heightened security. The increased patrols aren't just for the first-year trials." He stopped, a terrible realization dawning. "The Divine Artifacts."
Kael blinked. "The Divine Artifacts? Those are kept in the capital vaults, under maximum guard. Why would one be here?"
"Because they're not just objects, Kael," Garrick said, his voice grave. "The fragments of information we have suggest they… resonate. They awaken when their destined wielder is active nearby. The artifact doesn't stay in a vault; it's drawn to the person, or its presence draws them. The headmaster confirmed it last week. Two artifacts have been moved to a secured chamber here because they began exhibiting energy signatures. The theory was that their potential wielders are among this year's students."
The pieces slammed together in Kael's mind. The Revivers didn't want a student. They wanted a god's weapon. "Tobey is here to locate them. Or to steal them."
"Or to identify and capture the wielder," Garrick finished, his expression grim. "I have to report this to the headmaster immediately. We need to find a way to mask the artifacts' signatures, redirect the energy back to a dummy location until the threat is neutralized." He fixed Kael with a stern look. "This stays between us. You tell no one, not even your team. The more who know, the greater the risk of panic or a leak. Do you understand?"
Kael nodded stiffly. "Understood."
"Go back to your dorm. Act normal. Be vigilant, but give no sign that you know anything."
Kael left the office, the command to 'act normal' feeling like an impossible task. The cold sweat was back. As he exited the administration building, he instinctively scanned the central courtyard.
And there, across the paved square, partially obscured by a moving group of chattering third-years, was Tobey. The man was standing still, watching the building, a casual observer. His eyes met Kael's across the distance. There was no smirk now, only a flat, predatory recognition. Then, as the group of students passed, he turned and melted away among them.
Kael's fear crystallized into a hard, sharp point of resolve. He straightened his shoulders, stony-faced, and began the walk back to his room. The game had begun.