The days following Lysandra's discovery passed in a blur of training and preparation. The shadow of the finals loomed large over the academy, and the team was determined to secure victory. Yet amidst the rigorous schedules and strategic planning, one thing became glaringly obvious to Caelan: Dorian was not himself.
A Leader's Concern
In the shared dormitory room that Caelan, Dorian, and Aldric called home, Caelan often found himself watching Dorian. His friend's usual sharp focus and commanding presence had dulled, replaced by a restless energy that left him pacing the room at odd hours. His bed, once neatly kept, was untouched most nights. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his movements carried the weight of exhaustion.
Caelan's concern grew during a joint training session. The recruits, fired up after their team's victory in the preliminaries, worked tirelessly to hone their skills under the watchful eyes of their mentors. Caelan, Dorian, and Aldric divided the responsibilities, ensuring every member was ready for the finals. But as the session progressed, Caelan noticed Dorian's attention wavering. His instructions were curt, his stance unsteady—a stark contrast to his usual precision.
When Dorian fumbled a routine demonstration, Caelan decided enough was enough. He gestured to Aldric, who was overseeing a group of recruits. "Aldric, take over for a while. I need to speak with Dorian."
Aldric raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Got it."
Caelan strode over to Dorian, who was correcting a recruit's grip on a sword. "Dorian, a word," he said, his tone firm but calm.
Dorian glanced at him; his expression unreadable. "What is it?"
"Let's step aside," Caelan said, motioning to the edge of the training grounds. Dorian followed reluctantly, his shoulders tense.
When they were out of earshot, Caelan crossed his arms. "You're distracted. You've been making mistakes you'd never make, and you look like you haven't slept in days. What's going on?"
Dorian's reply was clipped. "I'm fine."
Caelan's eyes narrowed. "You're not. I'm ordering you to take the rest of the day off. Go back to the dormitory and rest."
Dorian shook his head. "I can't. There's too much to—"
"That's an order," Caelan interrupted, his voice firm. "As your commander, I'm telling you to take a day off. Aldric and I will handle the training."
Dorian hesitated, his pride warring with his exhaustion. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "As you wish, Commander. Just for today."
"Good," Caelan said, his tone softening. "And tomorrow too. Aldric and I will make sure everything is under control."
As Dorian walked away, Caelan returned to Aldric and explained the situation. "Make sure Dorian doesn't step foot on the training grounds tomorrow."
Aldric smirked. "Understood. I'll stand guard if I have to."
Sleepless Nights
That night, when Caelan returned to the dormitory, Aldric was fast asleep, but Dorian was still awake, sitting on his bed and staring at the floor. The dim light of a mana crystal illuminated his face, revealing the weariness etched into his features.
Caelan sighed inwardly. This is getting nowhere.
The next day, true to Caelan's instructions, Aldric intercepted Dorian at the training grounds. "Sorry, mate. Orders from the commander. You're off-duty today."
Dorian didn't argue, simply turning on his heel and heading back to the dormitory. His compliance only deepened Caelan's concern.
Later that day, Caelan sought out Seraphine. He found her in the library, pouring over texts related to the golden cage. She looked up as he approached, her expression softening.
"Caelan," she greeted. "How's training going?"
"Fine," he said, though his tone betrayed his unease. "How's Elena?"
"She's doing better," Seraphine replied. "Lysandra's breakthrough has given her hope. She's been helping with the research."
Caelan nodded, relieved. "That's good to hear."
Seraphine tilted her head, studying him. "But that's not why you're here, is it?"
He hesitated before speaking. "It's Dorian. He's been… off. Distracted, making mistakes, not sleeping. I don't know what's wrong, and he won't talk to me."
Seraphine frowned. "That's not like him."
"I know," Caelan said. "He's always been the steady one. But now…" He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Have you tried talking to him alone?" Seraphine suggested. "He might open up to you. You two are alike in a lot of ways, and he trusts you."
Caelan sighed. "I'll try. I can't just leave him like this."
A Midnight Duel
The dormitory was steeped in silence, save for the faint rustle of Aldric's breathing as he slept. The dim glow of the mana crystal cast soft, flickering shadows across the room. Caelan leaned against the doorframe, watching Dorian, who sat on his bed, unmoving. His gaze was distant, fixed on some unseen point in the void.
Caelan had had enough. This wasn't the Dorian he knew—the steadfast tactician, the dependable second-in-command, the man who could command a battlefield with a glance. This was someone lost in his own thoughts, trapped by an unseen enemy.
He stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. "Prince Dorian Valenor," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Dorian's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing in surprise. "What's with the formalities?"
Caelan didn't answer. He crossed the room and stood over him. "Get up."
Dorian blinked; his confusion evident. "Caelan, what are you—"
"I said, get up," Caelan repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."
With a reluctant sigh, Dorian swung his legs off the bed and stood. "Fine. What is this about?"
"You'll see," Caelan said, already heading for the door. Dorian followed, curiosity replacing some of his lethargy.
As they left the room, Aldric stirred, watching them go with a knowing smile. "Prince Caelan," he murmured to himself. "Still the same as ever, just like when you were young."
As they stepped into the corridor, the cool night air brushed against their skin, carrying with it the faint scent of dew. The academy was silent, its usual bustle subdued by the hour.
They walked in silence, the faint echo of their footsteps the only sound. Dorian glanced at Caelan, noting the determined set of his jaw. "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or is this some sort of dramatic intervention?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Caelan replied, his tone clipped.
Dorian sighed but didn't press further. He had known Caelan long enough to recognize that when he was in this mood, it was best to go along with whatever he had planned.
When they reached the training hall, Dorian hesitated. The massive wooden doors loomed before them, their iron reinforcements gleaming in the moonlight. "The training hall? At this hour?"
Caelan pushed the doors open without answering, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty space. The hall was bathed in pale moonlight, the beams streaming through the high arched windows and illuminating the polished wooden floor. Weapons lined the walls, their steel glinting faintly.
Dorian followed Caelan inside, his brow furrowing. "What are we doing here?"
Caelan walked over to the weapons rack and grabbed two training swords. He tossed one to Dorian, who caught it instinctively. "We're finishing what we started."
Dorian looked at the sword, then back at Caelan. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you remember our first day at the academy?" Caelan asked, gripping his own sword. "You challenged me to a sparring match, and the professor stopped us before we could finish. Well, now we're finishing it."
Dorian stared at him, incredulous. "You dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night for this? Caelan, we don't have time for—"
Before he could finish, Caelan lunged. The training sword whistled through the air, and Dorian barely raised his own in time to block. The impact jarred his arms, and he stumbled back.
"Focus," Caelan said, his voice sharp. "Or are you going to let me win that easily?"
Dorian gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Caelan replied, circling him. "But you're distracted. You've been off your game for days, and I'm not letting you sink any further. Now fight."
Dorian hesitated for a moment, then swung his sword in a wide arc. Caelan parried effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. The clash of steel echoed through the hall, each strike and counterstrike a testament to their skill.
As the fight progressed, Dorian began to shed his hesitation. His attacks grew sharper, his movements more deliberate. The fog that had clouded his mind started to lift, replaced by the familiar clarity of combat. But Caelan wasn't going to let him off easy.
"You're still holding back," Caelan said, his sword deflecting another strike. "What's wrong with you, Dorian? You're not yourself."
Dorian didn't answer, focusing instead on his next attack. Caelan blocked it with ease, his eyes narrowing. "You can't keep running from this. Whatever's eating at you, it's affecting everything. Your focus, your decisions, your leadership. Talk to me."
Dorian's expression hardened. "I don't need to talk. I need to—"
"Enough," Caelan interrupted, his voice rising. He stepped into Dorian's guard and delivered a powerful strike that sent his sword clattering to the floor. "Pick it up."
Dorian glared at him but obeyed, retrieving his sword. This time, he didn't hesitate. He ignited his blade with a burst of fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the hall. "You want me to fight seriously? Fine."
Caelan smirked, channeling mana into his blade. The faint blue glow of his magic clashed against Dorian's flames as their swords met. Sparks flew with each strike, the intensity of the duel escalating. They moved with the grace of seasoned warriors, their movements a blur of speed and precision.
As they fought, Caelan pressed him further. "Is this about Elena?"
Dorian faltered for a split second, and Caelan seized the opportunity to disarm him again. The sword clattered to the floor, and Dorian dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.
"Yes," Dorian admitted, his voice barely audible. "It's Elena."
Caelan thoughts inwardly Could it be that Dorian is also…
He crouched in front of him, his expression softening. "What about her?"
Dorian hesitated, his hands clenching into fists. "I can't stop thinking about her. About what she's been through, about how much I… care for her. But I don't know what to do. I don't even know if what I'm feeling is real."
"It's real," Caelan said, his voice firm. "You love her."
Dorian looked up; his eyes wide. "How can you be so sure?"
Caelan smiled faintly. "Because I've been there. I was a fool when it came to Seraphine. I didn't know what I was feeling either, but I couldn't stop thinking about her. It scared me, but it was real."
Dorian's eyes widened. "You and Seraphine? Since when?"
"Since a while ago," Caelan admitted. "We wanted to tell you, but with everything going on—the shadow entity, Elena's illness, the competition—it never seemed like the right time."
Dorian shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You really are full of surprises."
Caelan clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out, Dorian. Just don't let fear hold you back. Elena deserves to know how you feel."
For the first time in days, Dorian's expression softened. The weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound clarity. "Thank you, Caelan."
Caelan stood, offering him a hand. "Come on. Let's get back to the dormitory before Aldric starts worrying."
Dorian took his hand, pulling himself to his feet. Together, they walked back through the quiet corridors, their footsteps echoing softly. The fight had left them both exhausted, but for Dorian, it had also brought a sense of peace he hadn't felt in weeks.