The infirmary at Ironclad Academy carried the sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint musk of sweat. Kade sat on the edge of a cold metal cot, wincing as Mira pressed a damp cloth against the gash on his forehead. Overhead, a flickering light bulb cast jittery shadows across the bare walls, giving the room a disconcerting, haunted feel.
"Hold still," Mira scolded, gripping his chin to keep him steady. Her tone was sharp, but her touch was careful. "You're lucky it wasn't worse. Jarek could have cracked your skull."
"I've had worse," Kade muttered. It wasn't entirely true, but it felt like something he should say. His head throbbed, his muscles ached, and his pride—already fragile—had taken the worst beating of all.
Mira sighed, rolling her eyes. "You say that like it's something to be proud of. You've got to stop getting yourself into these messes."
Kade's jaw tightened. "It wasn't my choice," he shot back, though his tone softened when he caught the concern in her eyes. "Thanks for patching me up. Again."
"Someone has to," she replied with a small, teasing smile. She tossed the bloodied cloth into a nearby bin and stepped back, inspecting her handiwork. "Alright, you're good to go. Try not to pick another fight before tomorrow."
"I'll do my best," Kade said with a faint grin, sliding off the cot.
The infirmary felt stifling, the walls closing in with the weight of his loss. He needed air. The academy's curfew bell was still an hour away—enough time for a quiet walk.
The grounds were eerily still as he wandered along the shadowed paths between the towering stone buildings. Lanterns lined the walkways, their dim light barely cutting through the encroaching darkness. Most students were in the mess hall or their dorms, leaving the courtyard deserted.
Kade's thoughts churned as he replayed the fight in his mind. He had seen an opening, exploited it, and yet it hadn't been enough. Jarek was faster, stronger—everything Kade wasn't. The frustration burned in his chest, a constant reminder of how far he still had to go.
A chill breeze swept through the courtyard, tugging at his jacket. He pulled it tighter around himself and glanced around, his unease growing. That was when he felt it again—the same strange sensation he'd noticed during the fight. It prickled across his skin, like static electricity or the faint hum of something just out of reach.
"Who's there?" Kade's voice echoed into the silence.
No response. The leaves of a nearby tree rustled in the wind, and for a moment, he thought he saw a shadow shift unnaturally against the lantern light. His fists clenched instinctively, though his body protested the movement with sharp pangs of pain.
"You've felt it, haven't you?"
The voice was low, rasping, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Kade spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. "Who's there?"
From beneath an archway, the shadows seemed to ripple unnaturally, and a figure emerged. The man wore a long, dark cloak, his face obscured by a hood. He moved with an unsettling grace, as though the darkness itself clung to him.
"You fought well today," the man said, his tone calm and measured. "But you're holding back."
Kade took a cautious step back, his pulse quickening. "What are you talking about?"
The man tilted his head slightly, the motion almost birdlike. "The power inside you. It's awakening, whether you realize it or not. That's why you felt it during the fight. Why you're feeling it now."
Kade's breath caught. He didn't know what this stranger was talking about, but his words struck a chord deep within him. That strange sensation—the whispers at the edge of his mind—he had tried to dismiss them as exhaustion, as tricks of his imagination.
"I don't know what you mean," Kade said, though his voice wavered.
The man chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Kade's spine. "You will. Soon enough."
Before Kade could react, the man stepped back into the shadows. The darkness seemed to swallow him whole, leaving no trace that he had ever been there.
Kade stood frozen, his mind racing. Who was that? How did he know about the strange feeling?
The sharp toll of the curfew bell jolted him back to reality. Shaking off his unease, he hurried back to his dorm, every shadow now seeming to hold a hidden threat.
As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the man's words echoed in his mind.
"The power inside you… it's awakening."
Sleep didn't come easily. And when it did, his dreams were filled with shadows and whispers, pulling him deeper into a mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to unravel.