A month passed in a blur of sweat, exhaustion, and quiet victories.
At the Arcanis Institute, they had been deemed failures. Here, under Aedric's relentless training, they were transforming into something else—something stronger.
The days were brutally structured. Dawn broke with the sound of Aedric's cane striking against the wooden floor of the training hall. No words of encouragement, no morning pleasantries. Just the dull, rhythmic thud that meant it was time to begin again.
The mornings belonged to the body—grueling exercises meant to push their endurance to its limits. Running laps around the courtyard until their legs gave out, lifting heavy stones to build their strength, sparring with each other even as bruises accumulated on their skin.
Afternoons were dedicated to mastering their Inner Tides. Kaien, Lyra, Ronan, Tessa, Thorn, Calen—the group of misfits who had failed at the Arcanis Institute were now grasping at the power they once thought was out of their reach.
Kaien, in particular, found his abilities unfolding like a long-sealed book. Once he learned to relax into the flow of his Tide Shaper power, everything clicked. His stolen ability no longer felt foreign—it became his. The water-like currents responded to his will, shaping into blades, spears, shields, even intricate constructs with moving parts. At first, they were fragile, crumbling after a few seconds. But with time, he strengthened them. By the end of the month, he could forge a Tide-forged blade solid enough to cut through stone.
The others weren't far behind.
Tessa, the stubborn yet talented Tide Vortex user, had once struggled to aim her attacks. But after weeks of refining her technique, she could now strike moving targets with deadly accuracy. Thorn, quiet but determined, learned to extend his Tide Vortex strikes beyond his normal range, sending whip-like arcs of energy through the air.
Calen, who had been afraid of his Tide Traveler ability, learned to control it in a way that no longer left him gasping for breath after each attempt. He could now blink short distances effortlessly, dodging attacks and maneuvering through the battlefield with precision.
And Lyra—sweet, kind-hearted Lyra—was becoming stronger.
Her Healing Tide was once weak, flickering like candlelight. But with training, she could now mend deep wounds, knit flesh back together with a touch. Her endurance, which had been fragile, grew as well. She could hold her healing for minutes now instead of seconds.
Yet, despite her progress, she still longed for home.
On some nights, when training was over and the others were asleep, Kaien would find her sitting alone near the edge of the courtyard, gazing up at the stars.
She never spoke about it directly, but Kaien could see it in her eyes—the grief that never faded.
She had lost everything in Sevryn.
And though she had found a new purpose, though she trained as hard as the rest of them, some part of her heart would always belong to the past.
Kaien understood.
Because he, too, had things he couldn't let go of.
Sundays were their only reprieve.
It was the one day Aedric gave them freedom. No training, no commands. They could do whatever they wanted, as long as they returned before nightfall.
It was on these days that they truly bonded as a group.
Some would venture into the city, visiting the bustling markets of Ardanth, where merchants sold everything from exotic spices to enchanted trinkets. Others stayed behind, resting or sparring in a less structured way.
Kaien, however, spent his Sundays studying his power in private.
He had grown comfortable with the Tide Shaper ability he stole—but he knew it wasn't truly his.
What was his, however, was the negative current. The dark, consuming force that still whispered at the edges of his mind, urging him to take more.
He refused to give in.
But it was getting harder to resist.
Every time he trained, every time he reached the peak of his power, he could feel it there—lurking, waiting for him to break.
It had been weeks since the last time it surged uncontrollably. But he knew it was only a matter of time.
One particular Sunday, while the others were out, Kaien stayed behind.
He found Lyra alone again, seated on the same stone bench at the edge of the courtyard, her arms wrapped around her legs, staring up at the sky.
He hesitated before walking over, unsure of what to say.
"You should be resting." His voice was soft but firm.
Lyra didn't turn to look at him. "I know."
Kaien sat beside her, watching as the afternoon sunlight painted golden hues across the city's rooftops.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly, she whispered:
"I dream about them sometimes. My parents. My home."
Kaien didn't respond immediately. He knew that kind of pain. The kind that didn't fade, no matter how much time passed.
"I miss them," she admitted. "Even after everything. Even after I've gotten stronger. It doesn't change anything, does it?"
Kaien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, it doesn't."
A bitter silence stretched between them.
After a while, Lyra looked at him, her gaze searching.
"Do you miss home?"
Kaien clenched his fists. Home. Sevryn was gone. It had been burned away, along with the people he loved.
But was that even what she was asking?
Did he miss the past?
Did he miss who he was before all of this?
He finally answered, voice rough with something unspoken.
"I don't know."
Lyra seemed to understand.
She didn't press further.
Instead, she simply rested her head against his shoulder, just for a moment. A small, fragile comfort in a world that had taken too much from them.
Kaien didn't move away.
They sat there in silence, watching the sun sink below the horizon, two lost souls bound by the weight of what they had lost.
And for the first time in a long while, Kaien allowed himself to remember.
Not just the pain.
But the love that came before it.