The morning after… it felt hollow, you know? Like something had been sucked right out of the air. The academy grounds were still slick with rain, puddles everywhere, reflecting bits of the sky like shattered glass. Students were moving around, quiet, almost tiptoeing through the corridors, whispering, always glancing at Eryndor when he walked by.
He could feel their eyes, even when he tried not to. Every look held a question, the kind no one dared to ask out loud. What happened last night? Was it… really him? The air itself was heavy, thick with the smell of wet stone and something like burnt mana.
Eryndor tugged at his satchel strap, trying to ignore the ache behind his ribs. He'd barely slept, the storm replaying in his head, the surge, the way he'd lost control… it was all on repeat. God, he was tired.
He stopped at the training hall. The doors were half-open, the sound of sparring drifting out. Part of him wanted to turn around, just avoid the stares, the whispers. But the other part, the stubborn bit that refused to hide, made him step inside.
The chatter died the second he walked in.
Everyone stopped what they were doing, glancing his way. Some looked away quick, others just stared, curiosity plain on their faces. Eryndor felt the tension crawl up his spine, but he kept walking, heading for his usual spot near the center mats.
"Morning," he said, just trying to sound normal.
No one answered.
He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. Maybe silence was better. At least silence didn't lie, right?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luca walk in a few moments later. His face was unreadable as always, but something was different, a little slower, more deliberate in the way he moved. He caught Eryndor's eye for a second, then turned to the instructor.
"Pair up," the instructor called out. "We're working on defensive sequences today."
The class moved, some eager, some hesitant. Eryndor realized no one was coming near him. He almost laughed. Almost.
Luca's voice cut through the room. "I'll take him."
The whispers started up again, louder this time.
Eryndor's eyes flickered to Luca, not sure if he should thank him or glare at him. He just nodded. "Fine."
They stood facing each other, the faint hum of mana shields rising around them.
Luca raised his guard. "You're still pale," he said. "You should've rested."
"I'm not fragile," Eryndor shot back, sliding into his stance. "You can stop looking at me like I'm going to break."
"Then prove it."
The first exchange was fast, too fast for anyone watching to really see. Luca's strike was sharp, precise, and Eryndor parried without thinking, the air shimmering as energy flared between their palms.
The room vibrated, just a little.
"Careful," Luca muttered, his voice low. "Your control's off."
"I know."
"Then fix it."
Eryndor's jaw tightened. Sparks flew from his fingertips as he forced the surge down, burying the unstable energy under layers of discipline. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he didn't stop.
He lunged again, faster this time. Luca blocked, countered, and Eryndor ducked just in time to avoid a blast of compressed air. The rhythm between them shifted, it wasn't just sparring anymore, it was something closer to… understanding through movement.
Eryndor could read Luca's movements like words. Every strike, every step carried intent: not hostility, but a demand—show me who you are.
When they finally stopped, both breathing hard, the onlookers were silent. The instructor gave a quick nod, dismissing the tension with a single sentence. "Good. That's enough for now."
As everyone dispersed, Eryndor grabbed his towel, wiping his face. He could still feel Luca's eyes on him.
"What?" he asked quietly.
Luca hesitated before answering. "You weren't holding back."
"Neither were you."
"That's not what I meant."
Eryndor looked up then, catching a flicker of something like concern in Luca's eyes. "Then what did you mean?"
Luca's lips parted, but before he could say anything, a voice interrupted from across the hall.
"Hey, Eryndor."
It was Kael, one of the older students. His tone had a smirk in it. "You really need to chill with those storms, man. The rest of us like our dorms not fried."
A few others snickered.
Eryndor's hand stilled on his towel. "It wasn't me," he said, trying to keep his voice even.
"Sure," Kael said, raising an eyebrow. "That's not what people are saying."
Luca stepped forward before Eryndor could respond. "That's enough."
Kael shrugged, clearly enjoying the reaction. "Just saying. If you're gonna play hero, at least learn not to blow half the academy's barrier in the process."
"Kael," Luca warned, his voice flat and dangerous.
But Eryndor touched his arm lightly. "It's fine."
He met Kael's gaze with a calmness that wasn't entirely real. "Believe whatever you want. I don't owe you an explanation."
Kael smirked again but didn't say anything else. The others scattered, the conversation starting up again in cautious little bursts.
Luca let out a sharp breath. "You shouldn't let them talk like that."
"What difference would it make?" Eryndor muttered. "People believe what fits their story."
"That doesn't mean you have to let them write it."
Eryndor glanced at him. "And what do you suggest I do? Shout until they listen? That's not who I am."
Luca looked away, his jaw tight. "Maybe it should be."
For a while, neither of them spoke. The hall emptied out slowly until it was just the two of them, the fading hum of mana still lingering in the air.
When Eryndor finally broke the silence, his voice was softer. "You think I wanted any of that to happen?"
"I think you blame yourself too easily," Luca replied. "And you hide it behind calm words because it's easier than being angry."
Eryndor's eyes darkened. "You don't know what it's like to lose control."
Luca's reply was immediate. "Then tell me."
The words hung between them, not as a challenge, but as an invitation.
Eryndor opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when a faint shimmer of light flickered along the training hall wall, the remnants of unstable energy still trapped in the barrier lines.
He sighed, exhaustion creeping back in. "Later."
Luca nodded once. "Later, then."
Eryndor slung his satchel over his shoulder and started toward the exit. The sky outside was still gray, but softer now, like the world was holding its breath.
He didn't notice the way Luca watched him go, or the quiet thought that crossed Luca's mind: How long can you keep carrying this alone?
The rain started again, gentle, almost hesitant, as if the world itself refused to let the silence end too soon. It was like the sky was crying for him.
The rain didn't stop that evening. It came in steady waves, tapping against the tall windows of the infirmary like an unending rhythm, soft, but heavy enough to fill the silence. The smell of damp linen and herbs mixed faintly with the metallic tang of mana suppressants.
Eryndor sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, his fingers pressed against the bandages wrapped around his right hand. The burns had already started to fade thanks to the healer's work, but the memory of that blinding energy still lingered.
He hated the way the light had felt, too alive, too loud, like it had wanted to devour everything in its reach. It was terrifying, honestly.
He closed his eyes, listening to the rain.
The door creaked open quietly.
Luca walked in, still in his uniform, his hair damp from the walk across the courtyard. He was holding a cup in one hand, steam curling up from it.
"You're still awake," he said.
"I could say the same to you," Eryndor murmured.
Luca came closer, putting the cup on the small table beside the bed. "Tea. They said it might help with the mana fatigue."
Eryndor gave a faint smile. "Since when do you bring tea?"
"Since you nearly collapsed in the hall this afternoon."
"That's an exaggeration."
Luca tilted his head. "Is it?"
Eryndor sighed. "Maybe not entirely."
He reached for the cup, letting the warmth sink into his palms. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The sound of the rain filled the room, slow and deliberate, like the pause between thoughts.
"I didn't thank you," Eryndor said finally.
"For what?"
"For standing up for me. When Kael"
Luca interrupted gently, "You don't have to thank me for that."
Eryndor looked down into his cup. "You didn't have to interfere either."
"Maybe I wanted to."
That made Eryndor glance up. "Why?"
Luca's expression softened in the dim light. "Because you looked like you were about to disappear."
Eryndor blinked, not sure what to say. The rain's reflection flickered across Luca's face, and for a second, the world outside felt impossibly distant.
He set the cup down. "You think I'm fragile."
"I think you're trying too hard to pretend you're not," Luca replied quietly. "And that's not strength, Eryndor. That's exhaustion."
Eryndor laughed softly, but it sounded more like a sigh. "You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple," Luca said. "It's just… honest."
Silence stretched again. The candles flickered as the wind pressed against the windows, their light bending around the edges of shadow.
Eryndor leaned back slightly, his voice dropping. "When the storm came… I could feel it calling to me. Like it knew my name."
Luca frowned. "Calling?"
He nodded slowly. "It wasn't just power. It was memory. Something older than me, deeper. I tried to resist, but it felt like fighting the tide with bare hands."
"What did you see?"
Eryndor hesitated. "A field. Endless sky. And light, everywhere. But it wasn't beautiful. It felt… angry."
Luca's brows furrowed. "You think it's connected to what's inside you?"
"I know it is." His voice was almost a whisper. "Whatever I've been suppressing, it's growing stronger. Every time I lose focus, it's there, waiting."
He looked away, his fingers tightening on the edge of the blanket. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Luca."
Luca stepped closer, the floor creaking softly beneath his boots. "You didn't hurt anyone."
"Not yet," Eryndor said. "But how long before I do?"
Luca stopped right in front of him, his shadow blending with the faint glow from the window. "Then let me be there when it happens."
Eryndor looked up sharply. "You don't understand what you're saying."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
Luca's tone didn't waver. "I've seen what you're afraid of. And I still trust you."
Eryndor's throat tightened. "Trust doesn't stop chaos."
"Maybe not," Luca said softly. "But it might stop you from facing it alone."
The words settled like warmth in the cold air. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the silence not empty but full, carrying all the things they couldn't yet name.
The rain deepened outside, the world reduced to the sound of water and breath.
Eryndor's voice broke through, quieter now. "You shouldn't care this much. It'll only hurt you later."
Luca smiled faintly. "Maybe. But that's my choice."
He turned slightly, like he was about to leave, but Eryndor reached out, a quiet reflex, and his fingers brushed against Luca's wrist.
The touch was brief but electric, an echo of something neither of them had the courage to define.
Luca's breath caught. He didn't pull away.
Eryndor realized what he'd done and pulled his hand back, the warmth fading too quickly. "Sorry."
"Don't be."
The air between them trembled. Not from magic, but from something far more human, a pull that neither training nor restraint could suppress. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Luca finally spoke, his voice rougher than before. "You always hide behind apologies."
"Maybe because they're safer than feelings."
"Then stop hiding."
The challenge in Luca's voice lingered, but he didn't move closer. Instead, he just looked, as though waiting for Eryndor to decide whether the distance between them was a wall or an invitation.
Eryndor exhaled, his gaze dropping. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel anymore."
"Then start by feeling anything," Luca said. "Even confusion is better than nothing."
Eryndor smiled faintly, tired but genuine. "You really are terrible at subtlety."
"I learned it from you," Luca replied, and that made them both laugh softly, the tension easing, if only for a moment.
The clock on the wall ticked quietly. The storm started to fade, the rain thinning into mist.
Luca glanced toward the window. "I should go before curfew."
Eryndor nodded. "Yeah."
But as Luca turned to leave, Eryndor's voice stopped him. "Luca."
He looked back.
Eryndor's eyes were softer now, though still shadowed by exhaustion. "Thank you. For staying."
Luca's answer came easily. "Always."
He left before Eryndor could reply. The door clicked shut, leaving behind the faint scent of rain and tea.
Eryndor leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The world outside had grown quiet, but inside his chest, something restless still stirred, not fear this time, but something gentler, fragile, and new.
He wasn't sure what it meant yet. Only that when Luca said always, he wanted to believe him.
The rain finally stopped. And for the first time in weeks, the silence didn't feel heavy. It felt like hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could get better.