The training hall was colder than the corridor.
Not from temperature, but from intent.
The space was wide and circular, its stone floor marked with layered rings and intersecting lines that pulsed faintly with dormant enchantments. The ceiling vanished into shadow, supported by pillars etched with warning glyphs worn smooth by age. Everything about the room suggested one purpose: control.
Phaeros felt it the moment he stepped inside.
This place suppressed excess.
Not power — expression.
A deliberate choice.
Deyron stopped at the center and turned to face them. His posture was relaxed, hands folded behind his back, but the air around him felt compressed, as though the space itself deferred to his presence.
"You're here because you don't fit cleanly," he said calmly. "That alone does not make you special. It makes you dangerous."
No one spoke.
"Most awakened fail not because they lack strength, but because they misunderstand it." His gaze drifted across the group. "Power is not something you use. It is something that happens when you fail to restrain yourself."
A few of the candidates frowned.
Rhaelis listened closely, arms folded, eyes sharp.
Phaeros remained still.
Deyron gestured toward the markings on the floor. "These arrays suppress manifestation. Inside them, your abilities will not respond the way you expect."
One of the boys shifted nervously. "Then how are we supposed to train?"
Deyron's lips curved faintly. "By learning what remains when power is taken away."
Silence followed.
"Step into the inner circle," he continued. "One at a time."
A boy with trembling hands stepped forward first. The moment he crossed the innermost line, the faint glow around his body vanished entirely. His breath hitched.
"I—I can't feel it."
"That's the point," Deyron replied. "Move."
The boy hesitated, then tried to lift his arm. His movements were sluggish, uncoordinated. Panic flashed across his face.
"I can't—"
"Again," Deyron said calmly.
The boy swallowed and tried once more. This time he steadied himself, forcing motion without relying on whatever power he had awakened.
After several awkward attempts, he managed a few steps.
Deyron nodded once. "Good. You may leave the circle."
Relief flooded the boy's face as he stumbled out.
One by one, the others followed. Some adapted quickly. Others struggled. A few nearly collapsed before managing to move.
Then it was Rhaelis's turn.
She stepped into the circle without hesitation.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her expression tightened. A faint flicker of irritation passed through her eyes.
"My bindings…" she murmured.
"Gone," Deyron finished. "For now."
Rhaelis drew a slow breath and centered herself. When she moved, her steps were precise, controlled. She tested her balance, her weight, the resistance of the air. Slowly, deliberately, she walked the circumference of the circle.
Her movements were clean.
Disciplined.
Efficient.
Deyron watched with interest.
"You rely on structure," he observed. "Rules. Definitions. That will serve you well. But remember this—"
He tapped the floor once with his heel.
"Rules break. Structures fail. When they do, only your will remains."
Rhaelis inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the lesson.
Then it was Phaeros's turn.
He stepped forward.
The moment he crossed into the circle, something inside him shifted.
Not vanished — muted.
Like a distant echo suddenly wrapped in cloth.
The sensation was deeply familiar.
He exhaled quietly.
So this place suppresses resonance rather than power, he thought. Clever.
Deyron watched closely as Phaeros took a step.
Then another.
His movement was smooth, unhurried.
Too unbothered.
Deyron's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Do you feel it?" he asked.
"Yes," Phaeros replied truthfully.
"And?"
"It's… quieter."
A faint pause.
"Most describe it as suffocating," Deyron said.
Phaeros considered his words. "It's more like… being asked to listen instead of speak."
The room stilled.
Rhaelis glanced sharply at him.
Deyron studied him for a long moment.
"That's an unusual way to put it."
Phaeros gave a small shrug. "I tend to listen."
A lie.
But not entirely.
Deyron stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only Phaeros could hear.
"You're not empty," he said. "And you're not unstable. You're… restrained."
Phaeros met his gaze calmly.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
For the first time, something like amusement flickered in Deyron's eyes.
"Careful," he said quietly. "Restraint is a tool. It can also be a cage."
He stepped back.
"You may step out."
Phaeros did.
The moment he crossed the boundary, that muted pressure lifted slightly. Not fully — but enough to remind him of what lay beneath.
Something vast stirred, then settled again.
Patient.
Watching.
The remaining candidates finished their trials, and Deyron gathered them once more.
"You will train here for the foreseeable future," he said. "Your progress will determine whether you are released to standard instruction… or reassigned."
The pause that followed made the word reassigned feel heavier than it should.
"Until further notice, you will report here at dawn and dusk."
His gaze swept over them.
"Failure to comply will not be tolerated."
With that, he turned and walked away, robes whispering softly against the stone.
The chamber felt colder without him.
The group began to disperse in uneasy silence.
Rhaelis slowed her pace until she was walking beside Phaeros.
"You didn't struggle at all," she said quietly.
"Neither did you."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
She glanced at him, frowning slightly. "You talk like someone who's seen this before."
He hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
"Maybe I'm just good at guessing," he said.
Her gaze lingered, thoughtful.
They walked together in silence for a moment.
Finally, she spoke again. "You should be careful around Deyron."
"I gathered."
"He doesn't train people," she said. "He studies limits. And then he pushes them."
Phaeros nodded slowly.
"I think," he said, "that's exactly why I'm here."
Rhaelis stopped walking.
He turned back toward her.
Her expression was serious now. Searching.
"You feel it too, don't you?" she asked quietly. "That something's… wrong. About this place. About us."
He met her eyes.
"Yes."
A beat passed.
She exhaled slowly. "Good. Then I'm not the only one."
They resumed walking.
Ahead, the corridor bent toward shadow once more, deeper into the academy's restricted wing.
Behind them, unseen, the runes lining the training chamber flickered faintly — just once — as if recording something they were never meant to detect.
And far beyond stone and sigil, something ancient stirred in amusement.
He's learning faster this time.