The academy felt almost peaceful the next morning.
Mist curled over the training fields, the grass slick with dew that clung to boots and ankles as the students assembled. The drills were repetitive—stance work, footwork, endless repetitions of forms until muscles burned and minds went numb. To most, it was dull. To Eryndor, it was necessary.
He moved with quiet precision, his strikes sharper, his pivots tighter. Kael prowled the field, correcting posture with sharp taps of his staff or barked commands, but he passed Eryndor without a word. That silence said more than praise.
By midday, the students shuffled into lecture halls. Today was mana alignment theory. The instructor droned about resonant cores, chalk scraping against slate as diagrams filled the board. Lyanna leaned forward, chin in her hands, eyes flicking between the board and Eryndor with faint exasperation. He wasn't taking notes. Instead, he was watching the room—who sat with who, who whispered to who, where glances lingered when they thought no one was looking.
It wasn't paranoia. It was habit.
After class, they sat beneath the old oak near the east courtyard, where students usually gathered to rest. Lyanna stretched out on the grass, sunlight warming her face. "You look like you're chewing glass again," she murmured.
Eryndor smirked faintly, tossing a pebble between his hands. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked across the courtyard, catching the way a group of older students laughed a little too loudly, their eyes sliding toward him before snapping away.
"That wolves don't bark," he said finally.
Lyanna cracked one eye open, watching him. "And?"
"And sooner or later," he murmured, tossing the pebble into the air, "they show their teeth."
The rest of the day passed in ordinary motions. Evening brought sparring matches—students paired off, sweat-slick bodies colliding in controlled chaos. Eryndor trained until his arms shook and his lungs burned, yet each strike carried a sharper edge than the last.
By the time he collapsed onto his cot in the dorms, his body ached but his mind buzzed. He lay awake long after the lamps had dimmed, listening to the quiet, the occasional creak of footsteps in the hallway.
He knew it wouldn't last.
Tomorrow, something would break.