The First Discord***
*Every rise begins with resistance.*
Morning drills at the Conservatory of Arcs were never gentle.
But today, they were brutal.
The practice courtyard rang with layered rhythms—clapping sequences, footwork patterns, harmonic chants that bent the air. Students moved in precise formations, their movements sharp, controlled, aristocratic.
Aru stood among them.
Out of sync.
Again.
"Focus, Aru!" the instructor barked. "You're dragging the cadence!"
Aru bit down on his frustration and adjusted his steps.
Step.
Turn.
Pulse.
But the rhythm slipped through him like water through open fingers.
Kairo, two lines over, caught his eye and tapped a quick beat on his thigh—*their* old signal.
Aru matched it instinctively.
For half a second—
Everything clicked.
The air vibrated.
The floor hummed beneath Aru's feet.
Several students stumbled.
The instructor froze.
Then the sensation vanished as quickly as it came.
Aru's heart raced.
He'd felt it.
**Amplification.**
---
## **THE NOBLE INTERRUPTION**
"Enough."
The voice didn't belong to an instructor.
It was smooth.
Measured.
Heavy with authority.
Students parted instinctively as a group entered the courtyard—
five young men and women in tailored uniforms edged with silver sigils.
Aural Nobles.
At their center walked a tall boy with dark hair tied neatly back, posture perfect, presence sharp enough to cut.
His eyes landed on Kairo first.
Then slid to Aru.
And lingered.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Soren Blackfall," someone whispered behind Aru.
"Second heir of House Blackfall."
Aru felt a chill.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Soren's rhythm was… wrong.
Perfect on the surface.
Empty underneath.
The instructor bowed.
"Lord Blackfall. We weren't informed—"
"I was curious," Soren said pleasantly.
"I heard there was… unusual interference during training."
His gaze didn't leave Aru.
Kairo leaned toward him and muttered,
"Why does he look like he already hates us?"
Aru didn't answer.
Because Soren stepped closer.
"Which one of you caused the resonance spike?"
Silence.
Then Kairo shrugged and raised a hand.
"Probably me. Drums run in the blood."
Soren's eyebrow twitched.
"Drums?" he echoed.
"How… quaint."
He turned fully toward Kairo now.
Something dark stirred behind his smile.
"Your rhythm signature is… unregistered," Soren continued.
"That suggests common origin. Or worse—unauthorized lineage."
The air tightened.
Aru stepped forward.
"It wasn't just him," Aru said quietly.
"It was both of us."
Soren finally looked at Aru properly.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the world dulled.
Aru felt a pressure behind his eyes—
like someone knocking on the door of his memories.
Soren blinked once.
Just once.
And his smile sharpened.
"Interesting," he murmured.
"Very interesting."
---
## **THE WARNING WITHOUT WORDS**
Soren turned away, cloak swaying.
"Continue your drills," he said to the instructors.
"I'll be watching."
As he walked past Kairo, he paused.
Leaned just close enough that only Kairo could hear.
"Careful," Soren whispered.
"Rhythms like yours tend to… disappear."
Kairo stiffened.
Aru felt it.
A spike.
A tremor in the bond between them.
Soren left the courtyard.
But his presence didn't.
---
## **THE AFTERMATH**
Drills resumed, but the mood was shattered.
Kairo exhaled slowly.
"Okay. I officially don't like that guy."
Aru nodded.
"Me neither."
But deep inside, something else stirred.
The Observer's warning echoed:
*Do not force the bond.*
*When it breaks—*
Aru clenched his fists.
Because he knew.
Soren Blackfall wasn't just a noble.
He was a **discord** waiting to happen.
And Aru's rhythm had already reacted to him.
Which meant fate had noticed too.