“So, what wisdom did you pick up today, cousin?” Sorren called over the din, his tone light, but there was a spark of genuine interest threading through it. He leaned in, elbows braced on the battered tabletop, and let his fingers drift across a groove carved deep by generations before them.

  Nearly every boy had squeezed into the crowded mess hall for supper. The air was thick with the scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, and hearty stew—each one competing for attention, determined to push back against the chill that seeped in from the stone walls. The ceiling loomed high above, lost in gloom despite the torchlight flickering along the perimeter. Long rows of beaten-up tables filled the room, each one bearing knife marks and dents from countless rushed meals. Recruits pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on groaning benches, their chatter and laughter swirling together until it faded into the cavernous space. Overhead, torches sputtered as cold drafts snuck in, sending shadows skittering across the walls.

  “It was amazing!” Mack said, his voice brimming with excitement as he leaned forward, clutching a half-eaten roll in one hand. “They kept throwing all this water at me or asking if I could feel any disturbances in the air.”

  He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening as he saw both Sorren and Louis leaning closer, clearly hooked on his tale. Gai sat a little further back but still listened intently, his expression calm but not entirely disinterested.

  “Disturbances?” Sorren asked with an arched brow, tilting his head slightly. “What does that even mean? Like... ripples? Or something else?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Mack admitted with a shrug that seemed almost too casual for someone so thrilled. “They didn’t explain much. But they’d make sudden movements or flick water toward me and then wait to see how I reacted. It was like they were testing my instincts or something.”

  Louis, who had been sitting quietly until now, suddenly burst into the conversation with a laugh so exuberant it turned heads at nearby tables. “It took ages before anything really happened,” he said, practically bouncing in his seat as he gestured wildly with his spoon. “And then—oh! This part was amazing—one of the assessors grabbed this huge bucket of ice-cold water and just chucked it right at Mack’s face!”

  Sorren winced instinctively at the mental image, though he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Please tell me you didn’t just stand there and take it.”

  “No way!” Mack exclaimed, his grin stretching from ear to ear now. He leaned forward even more, as if preparing to share some great secret with them all. “I froze it. Right there in mid-air.”

  For a moment, there was silence at their table—an almost unheard-of phenomenon in the rowdy mess hall. Then Gai’s fork clattered softly against his plate as he looked up from his meal in surprise.

  “You froze it?” Gai asked, his usually quiet voice carrying an edge of incredulity.

  “Yep!” Mack replied proudly, puffing out his chest like a rooster showing off its plumage. “I don’t know how I did it—it just sort of… happened! But it was awesome! The water stopped dead in front of me and turned into this weird floating sheet of ice before shattering all over the floor.”

  “That’s incredible,” Sorren said after a moment, breaking into a wide grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Mack, that’s really cool.” He emphasized the last word deliberately, earning groans and eye-rolls from everyone at their table—but they couldn’t hold back their laughter for long.

  Even Gai allowed himself a small smile at that, though he quickly masked it by taking another bite of stew. For a brief moment, the warmth of camaraderie seemed to melt away some of the tension that always lingered around him like an unwelcome shadow.

  “Lou,” Gai said after swallowing his mouthful of food and glancing toward Louis, who was still grinning from ear to ear. “Did you get more control over your abilities today?”

  Louis hesitated for a second before nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he said modestly, fiddling with his spoon as if unsure whether to elaborate. “But I’m easy to handle compared to you guys—I’m only a three after all.”

  Sorren shook his head firmly at that and leaned closer across the table. “Don’t sell yourself short, Lou,” he said, his tone both gentle and encouraging. “You’ve got strong sensory abilities—you can pick up on things most people wouldn’t even notice—and you’re able to change the direction of objects in mid-air if they’re close enough to you. That makes you pretty versatile if you ask me.”

  Louis blinked in surprise at Sorren’s words before breaking into an almost shy smile that made him look even younger. “Thanks,” he murmured softly before glancing around at his friends with newfound confidence shining in his eyes.

  “You’ve really come out of your shell these past few weeks,” Gai observed quietly as he studied Louis with an approving nod. “I barely recognize you anymore—not that I’m complaining.”

  Louis laughed nervously but seemed pleased by the compliment nonetheless.

  “How about you, Sorren?” Louis asked after a moment, eager to shift some of the attention away from himself now that he felt reassured. “How’s your training going?”

  Sorren groaned dramatically before answering—a sound so exaggerated it drew amused glances from other tables nearby.

  “Well,” he began with an exaggerated sigh that made even stoic Gai crack another faint smile. “They’ve thrown me into this group full of complete hotheads—literally.”

  Louis furrowed his brow in confusion while Mack snorted into his drink.

  “We’re all fire manipulators,” Sorren clarified with a wry smirk as he leaned back against the bench behind him. “Or heat manipulators—whatever you want to call it—but none of us can seem to control ourselves properly yet.”

  He paused for effect before adding ruefully: “Our training takes place inside this massive stone building that looks like it’s been through a war zone—cracked walls everywhere and scorch marks covering every surface.”

  “And nothing in there can catch fire?” Mack guessed eagerly.

  “Apparently not,” Sorren confirmed with an amused shake of his head. “Not for lack of our trying though—we’ve definitely tested that claim more than once already!”

  Laughter erupted around the table at Sorren’s deadpan comment—even Gai couldn’t hide a quick snort—before everyone turned back to their food, the usual mess hall racket swirling on around them.

  “So, Gai, what about you?” Lou piped up, nudging him out of his thoughts. He leaned in, genuine curiosity written all over his face, hair falling into his eyes as he waited.

  Gai shot him a tired sideways look, managing a half-hearted smirk. “What do you think? Same drill as always—got knocked around all day. Living the dream.”

  Lou’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. “You can’t keep letting them—”

  “It’s not about ‘letting them,’ Lou,” Gai interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut. He sighed immediately after, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… how it is.”

  Across the table, Mack and Sorren exchanged glances but said nothing. They’d heard this story before—too many times to count—and while they didn’t approve of Gai’s harsh training regimen or the treatment he often endured, they knew better than to push him too hard about it. Instead, Sorren decided to change the subject.

  “Hey,” he said brightly, leaning forward with a grin that lit up his freckled face. “You guys want to meet someone from my class? He’s got this wicked ability—can melt almost anything he touches. Flammable or not.”

  Mack’s eyes widened with excitement, and he slapped the table with both hands. “Heck yes! Let’s go right now!” He was already halfway out of his seat before Sorren had even finished.

  Lou hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Gai as if debating whether to stay or follow the others. Gai caught the look and waved him off with a faint smile that didn’t quite mask the exhaustion in his eyes. “Go on,” he said quietly. “Have fun.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Lou gave him one last searching look before nodding and hurrying after Mack and Sorren. Their laughter trailed behind them as they disappeared into the crowd.

  Now on his own, Gai let out a long breath and pushed himself up from the bench. His legs complained with every movement, but he ignored the ache. The clatter and voices seemed to close in tighter with each step, making him want nothing more than to escape. Without looking back, he slipped toward the exit, scanning for a route that would get him outside with minimal interaction.

  He was nearly past one of the tables when someone snatched his elbow—hard enough to make him stop short. Gai turned, annoyed, and came face-to-face with that smirking idiot from earlier. Cedric. Of course it was Cedric.

  “Hey, squid,” the boy sneered, shoving an empty plate into Gai’s chest with enough force to make him stumble back a step. “Take our plates to the scullery, would you? Make yourself useful for once.”

  Anger flared hot and fast in Gai’s chest, washing away any lingering fatigue like dry kindling catching flame. Without thinking, he slapped the hand away so hard that it left a stinging imprint on his palm and reached for the boy's collar. His vision narrowed until all he could see was this smug bastard who thought he could push Gai around like some servant.

  But before Gai could land a single punch, something hit him first—a fist slamming into his gut with such force that it knocked the breath clean out of him. Pain exploded in white-hot waves through his abdomen as he doubled over instinctively.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” Cedric sneered, voice low and steady as he leaned closer. “What’s the matter—your little rescue squad busy tonight?”

  Gai staggered back and looked up through watering eyes to see Cedric looming over him like some immovable mountain. The Dustor's broad shoulders seemed even larger under the dim light of the mess hall, and there was an almost imperceptible shimmer to his skin—the tell-tale sign of his earth-reinforced power at work.

  “You’re dreaming if you think you can touch me,” Cedric spat coldly. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head mockingly. “Piss off before I hit you again.”

  The laughter around them stung worse than Cedric’s punch ever could. Humiliated and seething with rage that had nowhere to go, Gai turned on his heel and bolted for the door without looking back.

  The night air hit him like a slap as he stumbled out onto the training fields behind the mess hall. He barely made it a few steps before doubling over again, clutching at his stomach as nausea clawed its way up his throat. He retched violently onto the grass, bile burning its way up and out until there was nothing left but dry heaves.

  “Well,” came a familiar voice from above—a voice dripping with dry amusement. “That was pretty piss poor, mate.”

  Gai didn’t bother looking up; he already knew who it was. Somewhere high above—probably perched on one of the wooden posts lining the edge of the field—Yami sat watching him like some aloof bird of prey.

  “You know,” Yami continued conversationally as Gai vomited again onto an already growing pile of partially digested dinner, “I’m starting to wonder if you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve been teaching you.”

  A moment later, there was a faint rustle of movement behind him—a whisper of displaced air—and then Yami was beside him, crouching down with an infuriatingly calm expression.

  “Here,” Yami said casually, holding out a scrap of cloth that looked suspiciously like part of someone’s shirt sleeve. “Wipe your mouth with this.”

  Too tired to argue or care where it had come from, Gai snatched it from Yami’s hand and wiped at his mouth shakily before thrusting it back toward his mentor.

  “Ah,” Yami said with an exaggerated grimace as they stepped back quickly. “No thanks, mate. You keep it.”

  "How do you always know where I am, Yami?" Gai's voice cracked slightly, a mixture of awe and frustration seeping through his words. He eyed Yami, searching for any readable sign beneath the shadow of their hood. "And how are you here every night without fail? It's like you’re... everywhere."

  Yami’s expression didn’t shift, their eyes reflecting the moonlight, unreadable as ever. They plucked an invisible bit of grass from their cloak, deliberate and unhurried. When they finally answered, their voice was sharp and no-nonsense.

  “Not your concern.” Yami waved him off, making it clear the discussion was over. “Focus on your own problems for once, would you?”

  “But—”

  “Nope.” Yami didn’t let him finish, already turning away with a brisk nod. Their boots squelched in the wet grass as they motioned for Gai to keep up. “Let’s get moving. We’re starting early tonight.”

  Gai hesitated, scanning the shadowy field ahead. Their usual spot wasn’t far—a squat stone podium, chipped at the edges and worn smooth by years of recruits and their drills. Faint lines crisscrossed its top, runes and names half-faded with age. Everything around it was still, with the only sound their footsteps in the grass, as if the whole place was holding its breath.

  “What if we’re seen?” Gai asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as his gaze darted toward the faint glow of torchlight in the distance. The barracks wasn’t far, and he could still hear faint voices carried on the evening breeze. “You’re not supposed to be here, right? Everyone is still awake.”

  Yami stopped abruptly and turned to face him. A sly smile played on their lips, one that sent a shiver down Gai’s spine. It wasn’t comforting—it never was.

  “Not a chance,” Yami replied with chilling confidence.

  Before Gai could ask what he meant, it happened.

  The world around him vanished.

  Gai gasped as an all-consuming darkness swallowed him whole. It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was deeper than that, more oppressive. It was as though existence itself had been erased. Even the torches he knew were mere meters away offered no reprieve; their light seemed utterly devoured by whatever force Yami had unleashed.

  “W-what happened?” Gai stammered instinctively, but no sound escaped his lips. His panic surged when he realized he couldn’t hear his own voice—not even the faintest whisper of breath or heartbeat. The silence was absolute.

  Yami’s voice emerged from the void, calm and softer than before yet echoing unnaturally in the blackness. “Calm yourself, Gai.”

  The words seemed to pierce through the suffocating silence like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

  “You will only hear my voice this one time,” Yami continued, the tone growing firmer now, commanding Gai’s attention entirely. “And then our training for this evening begins.”

  Gai’s heart pounded in his chest—at least he thought it did; he couldn’t feel it anymore. He tried to steady himself, clutching at something—anything—but there was nothing to hold onto in this endless void.

  “I have shrouded all your senses,” Yami explained with an almost clinical detachment. “For darkness and suppression are my gifts.”

  Gai felt his stomach twist at those words. Darkness—gift? It felt more like a curse.

  “Rely only on the energy of this world,” Yami continued, their voice low and resonant now, as if speaking directly into Gai’s soul. “It lies heavy in every action, every fibre of everything that lives... and even that which does not.”

  Gai swallowed hard—or at least he thought he did; even that sensation was robbed from him.

  “Feel it,” Yami instructed slowly, each word deliberate and weighted with meaning. “And act.”

  There was no room for argument or hesitation—only obedience.

  Gai tried to focus. He strained against the suffocating nothingness that surrounded him—but it was futile at first. His breathing quickened despite himself; or perhaps it didn’t—he couldn’t tell anymore. His thoughts spiralled into chaos until he forced himself to remember Yami’s words.

  Calm yourself.

  He inhaled deeply—or imagined he did—and let his mind settle into eerie stillness.

  See.

  Nothing.

  Hear.

  Nothing.

  Feel.

  Nothing.

  Wait!

  There!

  Something ticked at the edge of his awareness—so faint he almost missed it—like a tiny jolt somewhere deep inside. Before he could question it, his body turned on its own, pure instinct snapping him sideways.

  A knife tip grazed his arm, barely there but sharp enough to sting in this weird, heightened state. Warmth tracked down his skin: blood, slow and real, even if he couldn’t see it.

  “I felt that!” Gai shouted—or tried to. Not a sound reached his ears.

  He tensed as the blade flashed at him again—quicker this time—and just managed to twist away. It nicked him again, tracing another line over the first. More blood. Great.

  It became impossible to tell how long it went on. Attacks came from all sides: sometimes biting and sharp when the blade landed, sometimes a dull crack against muscle from something heavier—maybe wood.

  Gai kept moving, not because he could see or hear anything, but because something else was kicking in now, raw and unfamiliar but relentless. When pain spiked through him he opened his mouth to yell but nothing came out; so he just pushed harder, legs aching as he shifted around an invisible space that only seemed to get smaller.

  Then something shifted—a faint vibration beneath his feet, subtle but unmistakable. For the first time, Gai realized the ground was reacting to him, alive with a strange energy he couldn’t quite put into words. He picked up on movement too: light footsteps moving across the earth, barely there but clear as day now—Yami, circling him somewhere just out of reach.

  And somewhere in that darkness... Yami smiled knowingly.

  Gai’s hand shot to his hip, fingers locking around his sword. Steel hissed quietly as he drew, just fast enough to block a swing that was much too close to his neck. He turned sharply, his sandals scraping against the packed earth, and deflected the next blow on his blade. The jolt ran straight up his arms. Gai gritted his teeth and forced himself steady, shifting smoothly into the high guard—just like Yami had hammered into him over and over.

  His breathing was ragged, but muscle memory took over. He countered, driving forward with a sharp yell and aiming straight for Yami’s head-or what he thought was his head. For a fractional second, he thought he had it.

  Then—Yami swept his legs out from under him in a flash.

  The ground lurched and Gai hit it flat on his back, knocking the breath out of him in one ugly rush. He blinked hard, trying to clear the daze, and when his vision sharpened he saw Yami standing over him, darkness gone, sword levelled steady at his throat. Yami didn’t so much as blink.

  “Not bad,” Yami said, a rare trace of approval in their voice, a small smirk tugging at Yami’s lips. “You almost got me.”

  Gai lay there sucking in air, hands tight around the hilt before he finally let go and left the sword in the dirt. Losing stung, but beneath that there was something else—a flicker of satisfaction. He’d almost managed it this time.

  Yami rose and dusted themselves off, not a hair out of place, like that whole spar hadn’t even happened. Gai managed to get himself upright and Yami walked a few paces away, dropping smoothly to their knees at the edge of the training ring. They set Gai’s sword down between them, blade facing forward, almost ceremonially.

  “Sit,” Yami said quietly, nodding at the spot across from them.

  Still breathing hard and feeling every bruise, Gai scooted over, mirroring Yami as best he could. His legs felt like jelly but he made himself stay still.

  Silence stretched between them until Yami fixed him with an unreadable stare beneath their hood. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for,” they said. “Do you actually get that? Or is it just going in one ear and out the other?”

  Gai hesitated. “I…maybe? I’m not sure.”

  Yami’s frown deepened, half their face hidden as they leaned in. “Listen closely. Most people wander around this world totally oblivious to what’s around them—can’t sense it, can’t feel it, wouldn’t know real power if it bit them.” They held eye contact, steady and unblinking.

  “But you,” Yami said, voice flat but certain, “aren’t like everyone else.”

  That landed with a quiet finality. Gai shifted awkwardly under Yami’s stare and dropped his eyes to his hands.

  “I didn’t realize,” he admitted eventually, voice small. He glanced up. “Is this... did something about me change tonight? Did we just unlock some new sense or something?”

  Yami heaved a long, tired sigh, pressing their fingers to the bridge of their nose under the hood. “Honestly, were you even listening? Or do my words just ricochet straight off that thick skull of yours?” Their hands flicked in a gesture halfway between despair and surrender. “This isn’t some kind of cosmic raffle win, Gai. You didn’t stumble into a bucket of luck. You just finally noticed what’s been staring you in the face for years—stuff people back in my homeland spend half their lives trying to grasp.”

  A moment passed before they added, totally flat, “Consider yourself lucky.”

  Gai shrank a little, chastened by the edge in Yami’s voice. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I jumped ahead again.”

  Yami shot him a look so dry it might as well have been sandpaper, then gave a tiny shrug. “You think?” The words came out more tired than sharp now. “Whatever.”

  They folded their arms and let their shoulders loosen slightly. “Now, listen close: I’m going to be gone for a bit.”

  Gai’s head snapped up, alarm flashing in his eyes. “Wait—seriously? You’re leaving?”

  Yami nodded once. “Temporarily,” they clarified with just enough effort to count as reassurance—not a drop more. “Don’t get dramatic on me; I’ll come back.” Their gaze pinned him for emphasis. “Until then, you stick to your drills. Every day. No skipping.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t start.” Yami cut him off before he could start whining properly—tone brooking zero argument. “And use that thing between your ears for once; actually put tonight to use.” The barest smirk tugged at their mouth as they added, almost like an afterthought: “Not many could keep up with you this year—not that I’ll say that again.”

  Gai went scarlet at the rare praise.

  He managed a steady nod and said quietly, “Thanks… Really. I mean it. No one’s done as much for me as you have.”

  A fleeting smile flickered over Yami’s lips and vanished just as fast; they dipped their head in acknowledgment and grumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

  Without another word, Yami stood in that fluid way of theirs and melted into the darkness before Gai could even blink, leaving him alone beneath the silent night sky.