Magic cracked against steel, sharp and controlled, echoing across the training grounds.
Lyra wasn't supposed to be there.
She kept her head down as she moved along the edge of the arena, a crate pressed against her arms. One of the kitchen staff had shoved it at her earlier, barely looking in her direction.
"Deliver it. Don't get in the way."
She meant to do exactly that.
But the moment she stepped closer, she felt it, the difference. The air here was heavier, charged in a way that made it harder to ignore what was happening. Every movement in the arena carried weight, like even the space itself was paying attention.
At the center, two figures clashed.
Lyra told herself not to look.
She looked anyway.
They moved too fast for her to follow properly, magic flashing with each strike. It wasn't chaotic—it was controlled, deliberate, as every move had already been calculated.
And one of them
She recognized him.
Kael.
There was no mistaking the way he moved. Nothing wasted. No hesitation.
His opponent struck first, magic forming along his arm before snapping forward.
Kael reacted instantly, faster
For a moment, it looked easy.
Then something shifted.
It was subtle. Easy to miss if you weren't paying attention.
The angle slipped.
The strike landed.
A blade cut across his side.
The sound changed just enough to draw a few sharp breaths from the watching students.
Kael stepped back.
Still steady.
But not untouched.
Dark red spread across his uniform.
Lyra froze.
He was bleeding.
"Enough."
The instructor's voice cut through the moment.
The duel stopped.
The tension didn't disappear right away. It hung there, tight and watchful, as Kael turned from the center without a word.
Like nothing had happened.
Like it didn't matter.
Lyra should have left.
Drop the crate. Go back. Stay invisible.
That was what she was supposed to do.
But she didn't move.
Her gaze lingered longer than it should have.
Something in her chest tightened, quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore.
It wasn't her problem.
Still
"You. Bring the cloth."
Lyra blinked.
The instructor was looking straight at her.
"…Me?"
"Yes. Move."
She moved before she could stop herself.
Her hands felt colder as she set the crate aside, grabbed a cloth, and stepped forward. The closer she got, the more uneasy she felt, though she couldn't explain why.
Up close, the wound looked worse.
Not shallow.
Blood had already soaked through the torn fabric, dark and steady.
"Hold it there."
Lyra nodded and stepped in, pressing the cloth carefully against his side.
Warmth spread through it almost immediately.
Too much.
She forced herself to focus.
Just this.
Kael didn't react at first.
Then his gaze shifted downward—
to her hands.
She felt it. That small change in attention, subtle but impossible to ignore.
Her grip tightened slightly.
She shouldn't have noticed.
But she did.
And in that moment, her injured finger brushed the edge of the wound.
A small movement.
Enough.
A drop of blood slipped free.
Not his.
Hers.
It touched his skin.
Lyra felt it instantly.
A sharp pull twisted through her chest, sudden and wrong, like something inside her had been pulled out of place.
Her breath caught.
For a second, everything narrowed—the noise, the movement, all of it fading into the background.
Then something changed.
Kael went still.
Not like someone reacting to pain.
More like he'd noticed something he hadn't expected.
His hand tensed slightly, then stopped.
Lyra's eyes dropped to the wound.
The bleeding had slowed.
Too fast.
That wasn't right.
She stared.
The blood wasn't spreading anymore.
It was stopping, right where hers had touched.
Her breath hitched.
No.
That wasn't possible.
She pulled her hand back without thinking.
The cloth shifted just enough to reveal the cut beneath.
It was closing.
Slowly.
But clearly.
Lyra felt her chest tighten.
Something about this was very, very wrong.
Kael saw it too.
His gaze stayed on the wound for a moment before lifting to her.
This time, there was no distance in it.
He was looking directly at her, like he was trying to place something he hadn't understood a second ago.
Lyra took a step back.
"I didn't"
She stopped.
The words didn't even make sense anymore.
The air between them felt tighter now, heavier than before.
Kael straightened slightly.
The injury should have been worse. It should have mattered.
But whatever he was feeling now, it clearly wasn't pain.
His attention stayed on her.
Unmoving.
Lyra shook her head, panic creeping in before she could stop it.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
"I didn't do anything," she said quickly.
It sounded weak. She knew it did.
Kael stepped closer.
Not sudden. Not threatening.
Just enough to close the space she'd tried to put between them.
Lyra didn't move.
Couldn't.
There was something in the way he was looking at her—too focused, too deliberate, like he'd already decided this wasn't something he was going to ignore.
His hand lifted slightly, then stopped just short of touching her again.
Like he was testing the distance.
Like he remembered exactly what had happened.
The silence stretched longer than it should have.
Then he spoke.
"…What did you do to me?"