A year ago.
The training grounds buzzed with uneven bursts of mana.
Wooden staffs struck against one another.
Energy flared. Failed. Flared again.
Cassian walked slowly between the students, hands clasped behind his back.
“You’re forcing it,” he said calmly.
Lucas lowered his arms, frustrated. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
Cassian stopped.
“You do not force Astral Essence,” he replied. “You align with it.”
Lucas frowned. “Align with what?”
Cassian turned slightly.
“With your soul.”
A ripple of confusion passed through the group.
“Soul?” Lucas repeated.
Cassian nodded.
“Astral Essence flows through the body. But the body is bound to the soul. If your thoughts are unstable, your Astral Essence fractures. If your will wavers, your affinity weakens.”
He knelt and drew a circle in the dirt.
“The body is the vessel.”
Inside it, he traced a smaller circle.
“The soul is the core.”
He smudged the inner circle with his thumb.
“When the core trembles… everything else follows.”
Silence settled.
The students listened more carefully now.
“The more control you have over yourself,” Cassian continued, “the more control you will have over your affinity.”
Lucas scratched the back of his head. “So we just… calm down?”
A few quiet laughs followed.
Cassian almost smiled.
“Understanding yourself is not the same as calming yourself.”
He resumed walking.
Then he stopped.
In front of Elias.
The air felt oddly still.
Elias wasn’t struggling like the others.
He wasn’t frustrated.
He was simply watching.
Listening.
Observing.
Cassian met his gaze—
And paused.
For a brief second, something passed through his expression.
Not alarm.
Not fear.
Just… recognition.
A depth in those eyes.
Not emptiness.
But distance.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
As if Elias carried more silence inside him than he should.
The moment stretched.
Lucas nudged one of the twins. “Why’s he staring?”
Cassian straightened.
“Your eyes,” he said evenly.
Elias blinked once. “Yes?”
Cassian held his gaze a second longer.
“They’re special.”
A faint breeze crossed the training grounds.
Elias gave a small, awkward shrug.
“They’re just eyes.”
Cassian said nothing more.
“Resume practice.”
But for the rest of the session—
His thoughts were elsewhere.
---------------------------------------------------------
The sky was overcast.
Muted.
Appropriate.
Cassian’s coffin was lowered slowly into the earth.
Priests chanted.
Incense smoke rose like pale ghosts into the air.
Elias stood near the front.
Too close.
His hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
The High Priestess spoke solemnly.
“Cassian devoted his life to guiding those who would shape the future.”
The words blurred.
Elias’s vision shimmered.
He swallowed hard.
He hadn’t expected it to hurt like this.
Not Cassian.
Not him.
Earth struck the coffin.
Dull.
Heavy.
Final.
The sound broke something.
Elias lowered his head.
His breathing grew uneven.
He pressed his lips together, trying to steady himself.
Not here.
Not in front of everyone.
Control over your soul…
The memory surfaced without permission.
Your eyes are special.
His throat tightened.
A single tear slipped free before he could stop it.
He quickly wiped it away.
No questions.
No theories.
Just loss.
The wind shifted.
A white feather drifted across the courtyard.
It brushed lightly against the edge of the grave before lifting again.
Elias didn’t see it.
He was staring at the soil.
As if hoping it would move.
As if hoping this wasn’t final.
Miha watched him from a distance.
Her expression unreadable.
The grave was sealed.
The chanting faded.
And beneath the quiet mourning—
Something unseen continued to turn.
Three Days Passed.
They gathered again.
No one had called them.
No bell rang.
Yet they came.
Lucas sat on the low stone bench, staring at the dirt. His jaw was tight, frustration sitting heavy in his chest. He hated that the world hadn’t stopped.
The circle Cassian once drew was nearly gone now.
Ethan traced what remained of it with the edge of his boot, irritation simmering just beneath his skin.
Elara sat beside him, arms wrapped loosely around herself. She felt untethered — as if something steady had quietly disappeared from beneath her feet.
“You think he’d be mad we’re not training?” Ethan muttered.
Lucas didn’t look up. “He’d say we’re wasting daylight.”
Elara swallowed. “He’d say it calmly.”
A faint, sad smile crossed Lucas’s face — then faded.
Silence returned.
Elias stood near the center of the field.
Not speaking.
Just present.
The empty space where Cassian used to stand felt louder than anything else.
Ethan suddenly kicked at the dirt, erasing the last visible curve of the circle.
“I hate this.”
Elara looked at him quickly. “Ethan—”
“Why is everyone acting like this is normal?” he snapped, though his voice wavered slightly. “It’s not.”
Lucas exhaled. “Because it is.”
He didn’t believe it. He just didn’t know what else to hold onto.
“He was here every day,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the empty center. “Every day. And now it’s just—nothing.”
Her voice faded. The unfinished sentence pressed heavier than if she had completed it.
Footsteps interrupted them.
Measured. Controlled.
The High Priestess entered the grounds.
They stood immediately.
Not out of respect.
Out of instinct.
“You continue to gather,” she said.
“It’s habit,” Lucas replied, folding his arms.
“You are not children. Loss does not excuse idleness.”
Ethan stepped forward before he could stop himself.
“We’re not idle.”
His heart pounded, but he held her gaze.
“No?” she asked evenly.
“We just needed time.”
Elara lightly grabbed his sleeve. “Ethan…”
There was fear in her touch — not of punishment, but of pushing too far.
“You replaced him already, didn’t you?” Ethan asked.
The question landed hard.
Lucas stiffened.
Elias’s eyes lifted.
“The cathedral does not stop moving,” the High Priestess replied calmly.
“So he’s just a vacancy?” Ethan pressed.
Elara stepped forward now, voice quieter but steadier.
“He taught us more than techniques.”
For a moment, the High Priestess studied them.
“I am aware.”
“Then why does this feel like it doesn’t matter?” Lucas asked.
Wind brushed across the field.
“Grief is honored,” she said. “But stagnation breeds weakness. He would not have wanted you frozen in place.”
That silenced them.
Ethan’s anger dimmed slightly.
Elara felt guilt replace her defiance.
“There will be a new instructor arriving today.”
Lucas blinked. “Today?”
“Yes.”
“That’s too soon,” Elara said softly, unable to stop herself.
“Discipline does not wait for comfort.”
Ethan shook his head. “We’re not ready.”
“You do not decide readiness.”
Her gaze shifted briefly to Elias.
Elias met it calmly, though inside something tightened. He wasn’t afraid of the new instructor — he simply wasn’t ready to let go.
“He has already entered the village.”
High above, from the cathedral balcony, Miha watched the scene unfold. She kept her expression composed, but seeing Ethan’s frustration and Elara’s quiet hurt unsettled her. And when her gaze settled on Elias — standing exactly where Cassian once had — something unreadable stirred in her chest.
“What kind of instructor?” Lucas asked.
“You will address him as Master.”
“That doesn’t answer anything,” Ethan muttered.
“He is capable.”
That was all she offered.
She turned and left.
The students remained standing.
Ethan exhaled sharply. “Capable,” he repeated bitterly.
Elara stared at the ground. “What if he changes everything?”
And beyond the cathedral walls—
Footsteps approached.
The temperature rose.
The air grew heavier.
Everyone felt it.
Everyone—
Except Elias.
And that was the first thing that felt wrong.
