The academy grounds were as bustling as ever, with students training, sparring, and practicing their abilities. But Ronan wasn't focused on any of that.
He was in the corner of the courtyard, watching the world go by, his thoughts swirling.
The trial had been over for a few days now, but the victory didn't feel like much of a triumph. He had beaten Gareth, sure, but it hadn't been because of how strong his ability was. It had been because of his [Whisper].
His ability to make people hear things, to plant doubts in their minds. It was subtle, and it was quiet.
Unique, but was it really enough?
Ronan had spent the last few days trying to figure out what exactly his ability could do. He had watched his classmates in their training sessions—those with flames that could light things up in an instant, lightning that could shake the earth, or the power to heal wounds as though they were nothing.
Their abilities were loud, impressive, commanding. They could change the world around them with a single gesture. And then there was Ronan.
A whisper.
He felt small, almost invisible in comparison. It was easy to feel useless when surrounded by people with abilities that could do so much more. What could a whisper really accomplish?
He stood up, pacing the quiet corner of the courtyard. He needed to do something!
[Whisper] wasn't going to grow stronger on its own. If it was going to be useful, it had to be practical. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for someone else to show him how to use it.
Ronan found a secluded spot in the back of the academy grounds, a small grove of trees where the sounds of training couldn't reach him. He stood still for a moment, taking a deep breath.
This time, he wasn't looking for inspiration in magical tomes. Instead, he pulled out a notebook and began jotting down ideas—simple, practical ideas for how to use [Whisper] more effectively.
He wrote down everything he could think of:
'Whisper to disrupt focus...'
Maybe he could use his whisper to distract opponents in the middle of a fight. If he could make them doubt themselves at the right moment, he could force them into mistakes.
'Whisper to mislead...'
What if he could make someone hear something that wasn't there? A slight illusion, a trick that made them second-guess their surroundings. They would be looking for things that didn't exist, leaving them vulnerable.
'Whisper to confuse timing...'
Maybe he could use his ability to slow down an opponent's reactions. If he whispered right before they struck, causing them to pause or hesitate, it might give him a critical opening.
Ronan paused, looking over the list. It was simple, basic stuff. Nothing revolutionary. But that's all he had. He needed to make his skill work—no matter how small or weak it seemed.
He wasn't looking for a flashy display of power. He didn't need to become invincible like Alexan. He just needed to be smart. And maybe, just maybe, he could turn [Whisper] into something useful in the right hands.
'Focus...'
Ronan took a deep breath, clearing his mind and focusing on the soft hum deep in his chest. [Whisper] had always been a part of him, something subtle, like an afterthought, never demanding his attention, yet always present.
It wasn't something he needed to consciously summon—it just happened. But now, he needed to make it more than a passive skill. He needed to see if he could push it further, make it something more useful.
Ronan's mind drifted back to the trial. That moment when he whispered into Gareth's ear, and for just a split second, Gareth had faltered. It wasn't anything dramatic—just a brief hesitation, an opening that Ronan had quickly taken advantage of.
He hadn't forced anything. He hadn't overwhelmed his opponent with raw power. It had been about timing, about waiting for that brief moment of vulnerability. That's what [Whisper] was for, he realized.
He closed his eyes, tuning out the noise of the training hall around him.
Practice. He needed to understand the timing. He needed to learn how to make people lower their guard, even if just for a moment. Ronan couldn't rely on chance.
This had to be something he controlled.
Taking a slow breath, he glanced around the room. Students milled about, chatting, adjusting their gear, preparing for the next trial. Ronan spotted a pair talking near the far wall. Nothing spectacular, just another small moment to test his skill.
This wasn't about something grand. It was about the little openings.
He centered his focus, the soft hum of his ability drawing his attention inward. Then, with quiet intent, he imagined his words gently flowing out.
"You're wrong."
They were barely audible, no louder than a whisper. The pair continued talking, oblivious. Ronan watched them, waiting. Nothing. Not even the slightest pause in their conversation.
He exhaled, not bothered but mildly disappointed. He knew it wasn't going to work every time. It wasn't supposed to be that simple.
He tried again, this time picking a different student, a girl fidgeting with her equipment, adjusting straps on her gear.
"You don't belong here."
Still soft, still gentle. The girl didn't even seem to register the words, continuing to adjust her gear with the same distracted focus. Ronan watched carefully, searching for any sign of hesitation. Nothing.
'Maybe it wasn't personal enough?'
He moved on, scanning the room. It was a process. Not every whisper would land perfectly. But he needed to figure out how to make it work.
Then he saw him. A student standing alone near the back of the room, his hands slightly shaking as he gripped his weapon. Nervous, distracted. Perfect.
Ronan focused. This time, he was careful with his words, more deliberate.
"You're not ready for this."
The words floated into the air. Ronan watched the student's reaction closely. For a moment, the student hesitated, his grip on the weapon tightening. He looked down at his hands, took a deep breath, and then continued, still a little unsure, but moving forward.
Ronan felt a flicker of satisfaction. It wasn't much, but it was enough. It worked. The seed of doubt had been planted.
Ronan stood there, processing what had just happened. He wasn't going to change the course of a battle with a single whisper. But it was progress.
This ability—subtle, quiet, and not flashy—had its place. It wasn't about overwhelming an enemy; it was about timing, influence, finding the gaps.
He whispered again, more deliberately now, trying to fine-tune the technique. Could there be more to it? Maybe it wasn't just the words. Maybe it was the emotions behind them—the weight of fear, doubt, regret.
He tried again, focusing on the emotion he wanted to evoke.
"You will hesitate."
It was simple. A little direct. But this time, Ronan tried to feel it as he spoke. He focused on the sensation, imagining the hesitation before it even occurred. His words carried a weight behind them, not just a sound.
Nothing immediate happened. The room stayed quiet, but Ronan could feel something shift—subtle, like a change in the air. It wasn't physical, not like a gust of wind or a crackling of energy, but something was different. It was faint, but it was there.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. This wasn't about force. It was about influence, about presence. He exhaled and tried again, quieter this time.
"You will hesitate."
This time, he could feel it more clearly. The room didn't shift. No one reacted overtly. But the air felt heavier around him. As if something in the atmosphere had changed.
He whispered again. And again.
Ronan lost track of time as he continued experimenting, focusing on the tiny flickers, the subtle shifts in the atmosphere. It wasn't about making something grand happen. It was about feeling the right moment when his words would settle into someone's mind.
By the time the sun started to set, Ronan was exhausted, but something inside him had shifted. He hadn't mastered it. He hadn't turned his ability into something explosive or overt. But he was beginning to understand it.
He was starting to grasp how [Whisper] worked—not as a force, but as a quiet influence.
That was the key.
Ronan closed his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He still had a lot to learn. But now, he was starting to understand. [Whisper] had power—quiet, but undeniable. And that was enough.