Seraphina opened her mouth to say something else but then…
"RAZIEL!!"
His friend shouted from outside, in the library.
"I think it is time you return, don't you?" Seraphina told him, dropping the mystery tone and going back to her usual formal voice.
Raziel went back to the student area of the library and saw Lucian surrounded by his other friends.
One of the other initiates, a big boy named Gideon, elbowed Raziel.
"What were you looking for in there, Raz? Plans to rule the world? Secret love letters for Sister Seraphina?"
"I am reviewing a bit of strategy before Jericho's lesson," Raziel said sharply, pointing at the book in his hand. "I thought it might give me some advantage for what is coming."
"Ah, that book," the third initiate cut in, a tall, thin boy named Tobias.
"Even Jericho struggles not to fall asleep in that class. Maybe you can improve it, Raz. Just add a dragon, a damsel in trouble, maybe a forbidden romance."
Lucian's laughter bounced off the shelves, and the sound annoyed Raziel more than it should have, if not for him Raziel would have found out what the Sister was about to say.
"Maybe Raziel is trying to figure out how to become a hero," Lucian said, with fake seriousness.
The fun in Lucian's eyes disappeared when he met Raziel's gaze.
"Are you well, Raz?" he asked, with a hint of doubt in his voice, which was rare for him.
Raziel shrugged, keeping his face flat.
"My head hurts, too much studying, I suppose."
He put the book back in its place, very aware of the intense talk he had just had with Seraphina.
"Yes, yes, of course," Lucian said, quickly putting on his usual arrogant attitude again. "Well, enough boring things, the instructor will kill us if we arrive late to training."
He dragged Raziel toward the exit, gripping his arm hard so he could not protest.
Seraphina's words about the Paragon, Lucian's casual talk about "darkness", the feeling of being watched, it was too much of a coincidence.
Raziel looked back toward the Restricted Section, but Seraphina was gone.
***
The sound of wooden swords cracking filled the training yard.
Raziel struggled to keep his practice sword raised, his muscles hurt, protesting with every movement.
His opponent, a strong novice named Gregor, was smiling as his thick arms pressed hard in the attack.
"Come on, Raziel," Gregor mocked. "Is that all you have? I thought you were all discipline and whatever else."
Raziel blocked clumsily and the impact of Gregor's strike sent a whip of pain through his arm.
He stumbled back, breathing hard, hating how weak he felt.
"Come on, Raziel," Gregor pushed, taking advantage. "I thought you were a man of Zhalyr. Where is your divine strength, hm?"
Raziel clenched his teeth, ignoring the taunt, he could not let Gregor get inside his head.
Instructor Jericho, an old, hard Paladin missing an eye and with a face full of scars from a lifetime of battles, shouted orders from the middle of the yard.
"Footwork, initiates! Balance is the key! Do not throw swings like fools, think! Read your opponent's movement!"
His gaze fell on Raziel and he narrowed his one good eye.
"Celeste! Stop drifting off! This is not a theological debate, it is about staying alive!"
Raziel held his stare, a spark of rebellion in his eyes, and adjusted his grip on the sword.
"Gregor," Raziel said clearly, "you spread your legs too wide, you are leaving your left side open, with a good strike and-"
"You would be dead before you finish that sentence," Gregor mocked, throwing another attack.
But this time, Raziel was ready, he stepped to the side, turning on his heel, and lifted his wooden sword in a quick arc, catching Gregor completely off guard.
He struck Gregor's exposed side, making the big novice stumble.
Gregor stared at him, mouth open, shocked.
"What the hell?"
Jericho's laugh cut through the yard.
"Well done, Celeste! You may not have the muscle of a bear, but you have the cunning of a fox. Remember it, initiates, a sharp mind is as deadly as any blade."
The other novices watched, and murmurs of surprise ran through them. Even Lucian, who usually enjoyed seeing Raziel suffer, gave a slight nod at the instructor's words.
"Not bad, Raz," he said, with a trace of respect in his voice. "Maybe you do have a warrior inside you after all."
Raziel only shrugged, chest heaving from the effort.
***
Night fell heavy over St. Celeste. In the dormitory, the only sound was the deep snoring of his roommate.
But Raziel could not sleep, his eyes fixed on the stone ceiling, going over the day again and again.
The talk with Seraphina.
The feeling of foreign power in his hands when he disarmed Gregor.
The letters floating in the air.
It was too much, a knot of questions tightening in his throat.
So he got out of bed, walked to the small window, and knelt, bringing his hands together like they had taught him since he was a child.
It was the only thing he had left, the last refuge.
'Zhalyr, Mother of Light, hear me,' he prayed in silence, his inner voice shaking. 'What is happening? Those words in the air, that strength in training was not mine, I feel like I am losing my mind, so give me a sign, please, just one sign.'
He closed his eyes hard, waiting to feel the familiar warmth of faith, he waited and waited.
But he felt nothing, no peace, no comfort, only the cold stone under his knees.
He opened his eyes, defeated.
Then he saw it.
In front of him, floating in the dark air of the room, there was a screen.
It was a pale blue window, with white, perfect letters, in a kind he had never seen, lined up neatly across it.
[STATUS: RAZIEL CELESTE]
[TITLE: THE REGRESSOR]
[CONDITION: MENTAL EXHAUSTION (SEVERE), CONFUSION, EARLY PARANOIA]
[UNIQUE SKILLS]
- [ETERNAL REGRESSION (PASSIVE)]: Upon death, the host returns to a predetermined save point. Cost: Sanity.
- [ECHO ABSORPTION (LOCKED)]: Requires catalyst.
- [PARAGON'S LIGHT (DORMANT)]: Unawakened potential.