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Chapter 12 - Quiet Mirrors

'Of-course it's across campus', he thought, expressing exasperation.

'Well no time like the present...' pocketing the holo-phone, he strolled to the door.

After only entering for a few minutes, he was out again.

Click

Feeling more comfortable than in the uniform, he stretched his arms lightly behind his head, as he stepped to the elevator.

The long corridor was vacant. The soft amber lights, hummed faintly above the polished floors. Only some students had come a few days early, and Riven was going to enjoy the silence it came with.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, leading him into the cool, wide lobby once again. 

Stepping outside, Riven checked his phone once more; 'Northern Training Grounds', it wasn't far but it would talk a walk - through the central court, past the outer rings of the first-year buildings.

His steps were tame as he exited the dorms. The air outside was sharper, the sun had dipped low, smearing a canvas of orange across the horizon. 

Students moved in small groups, some laughing, some wandering with wide eyes; it was the honeymoon period, a time to see the wonders the academy had to offer...for Riven it was a different time.

He moved alone.

Passing the western fountain, a group of students argued about their rankings.

Passing through multiple sleek, refined facilities, no-one paid him much mind.

That was perfectly fine.

Walking with a calm purpose, he cut through the plaza until the stone path turned darker.

There it was.

The Northern Training Grounds.

Riven approached slowly. The grounds were quiet - no student in sight, just the soft rustling of leaves overhead. A line of thin trees swaying along the path, casting a long shadow over the walkway. The silence was nice. There was no voices, just the wind.

Creak

Pushing open the heavy door, it let out a muted groan.

Inside the air was a lot cooler.

The ceiling stretched higher than perceived outside - vaulted with steel ribs, skylights let in fractured twilight. The floor was a smooth black tile, marked with lines showcasing prior use. Practise dummies lined one wall: humanoid, reinforced with glimmering runes.

In the far corner, racks of wooden and steel weapons stood silent. Multiple elevation platforms were spaced around the hall, designed for combat.

Across the room, there was multiple doors, for what reason was remained to be seen.

The hall was gigantic, fitting bundles of equipment.

But no one was here.

At-least that's what Riven thought....

'Hm?', glancing at the far end of the hall - barely visible through the dim overhead lights, a figure moved sharply. Fluid, focused, striking a dummy in clean arcs/

He couldn't see the face of this individual yet, but from the hair, the build and the feel around the air; Riven assumed it was someone he'd witnessed earlier.

Kalen Voss.

-----

Kalen moved like a blade being sharpened.

The training room echoed with the thuds of collapsing dummies. Sparks flickers from mana shields overloading. His strikes were crisp, controlled - until they weren't. One swing landed too hard, splitting a target clean through. He didn't slow down at all.

He wasn't thinking about the dummies.

He was thinking about Jacob's hand on her shoulder.

Not Seris. Not directly. Not out loud. He wouldn't give the thought that much power and presence.

Just the touch.

That casual grip. Like it meant nothing....like it was normal.

Kalen pivoted:

Thud

Launching a side kick into another dummy. The air cracked in the process.

THAKK!

He should have said something. Or walked away sooner. Or-

"Tch!", he voiced out.

He hated how it set in his chest. That twisted feeling. It wasn't because he cared - at-least that what he told himself - but it was because Jacob didn't earn that kind of attention. People like him however, born perfect, didn't need to earn it.

SWOOSH!

A dummy cut through the air viciously aiming at Kalen with a sweeping attack. Rolling to the side, he flexed his arm, thrusting it upwards.

KSSHH

Another dummy fell, his blade separating it's limbs effortlessly. 

'He's not better than me', Kalen' mind expressed.

The phrase was a silent echo, but it filled his actions. 

When the next wave of dummies spawned, Kalen stepped forward before they'd even moved.

ZOOM SHAKK! SHAKK!

Dashing forward, he cleaved through their artificial suits, leaving nothing unturned.

Huff huff

Kalen's breath came hard as the dummies crumbled before him. He wiped the sweat from his brow, muscles aching, but his mind refused to settle.

Every strike he threw felt like it needed to prove something - not anyone watching, but to himself deep down.

'Not strong enough! Not yet.'

'Always someone ahead. Always someone more complete.'

His grip tightened on the blade. 

He turned to reset, but then his steps paused.

Someone else was in the grounds.

A boy stood still in the corner, back low, hand resting on a sheathed weapon on his hip.

Brown hair slightly curled, with shimmering grey eyes, met his view. The boy was rooted in place. He wasn't swinging, but he seemed to be waiting.

There was no dummy in-front of him, it was just open air.

His body held no tension, he was loose. Not the posture of someone unsure, but someone... patient.

Kalen watched a moment longer, quiet, unreadable. Whoever this guy was, he didn't carry himself like most loud nobles Kalen was familiar with. He hadn't seen him before, but he certainly wasn't here to waste time if he was here early.

Huff

Those few moments of staring at the boy, gave Kalen's mind something to think about other than its inner turmoil. It intrigued him, but also reminded him, to work harder.

Working hard to Kalen was the standard, it was all he knew. Especially with that influence over his life.

Grunting softly, Kalen pivoted around, returning to his stance.

Neither of the two spoke. 

But the room felt less empty.

----

Huff

Riven exhaled.

He hadn't moved in minutes. His body was still, but his mind was whirring.

It traced the flow of the blade, the memory of Maelis's words, the pressure of a stance not yet mastered. 

Draw, breathe, return.

The rhythm slowly started building in his mind.

He stepped forward.

The wooden sword on his hip vibrated faintly as he moved, weightless in his grip; he shifted, not a lunge, but a slide, a breath across the floor, drawing low, striking high.

SWOOSH!

The strike was clean as the blade fell on the air.

But it wasn't enough.

'Again'

He re-positioned.

Another swing.

SWOOSH!

Then another...

A slip-cut meant to erase resistance.

But it didn't feel right yet.

He adjusted his stance and went again.

Across the room, he could feel another presence; Kalen in question. Anger rode his shoulders like armour, each strike carrying venom. Their eyes hadn't met, but Riven could feel the tension...but also the purpose he held in each strike.

Something about the space between felt shared.

The duality of the strive but also the calm.

SWOOSH! CRASHH!

Each strike they threw slowly began to unite. Rhythm forming across the tense air. 

SWOOSH! CRASH!

"Even silence makes a sound if you listen long enough", Riven thought, imagining Maelis.

The thought of his teacher pushing him to focus more. Imagine more. 

Across the room Kalen held entirely other thoughts, "Always second...", a cold gaze stared at him.

A flicker of a memory burned his eyes. A gaze that never praised. A gaze that always measured. Judged.

SWOOSH! CRASHH!

The strikes painted a picture; a boy who had nothing but discovered a path. A way forward.

And a boy who was forced a path, but was always met with scorn.

SWOOSH! CRASH!

"Let the sword become one"

"You have her blood. That stain will always hold you back...."

CRASH!! 

....

Kalen exhaled hard, his form lacking control but power as he slowly cooled down. His blade trembled in his grasp. The final dummy split apart, his chest rising up and down.

Turning around, he looked at the other boy.

Riven stood there, beads of sweat dripping on-to the floor, feet wide apart.

Both of their eyes met...

Between those two, in that breath of shared stillness, a shift had begun.

The academy hadn't introduced them. Their names weren't formally addressed in the slightest. But something passed that day. In that space. Not quite recognition, or yet respect...

Something that remained to be seen.

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