## CHAPTER 17: Lost Soul
The fallout from the trials was instantaneous and devastating. News of Alium Hatora's defeat spread through the corridors of Aethelgard like a virulent fever. It wasn't just that he had lost; it was the *way* he had been dismantled—his family's reinforced blade shattered into worthless splinters by a boy who hadn't even broken a sweat.
Alium himself was scarred for life. He spent the evening in a state of catatonic silence, his mind looping the image of his weapon vaporizing. The shame was a physical weight, a brand on his soul that no noble healing magic could erase. He didn't show up for lectures the next day. His inner circle of friends sat in hushed corners, glancing at his empty seat and wondering if the Castamir lineage would ever truly recover its terrifying reputation.
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### The Divided Table
The cafeteria was a sea of polished silver and vibrant school uniforms, but the atmosphere was thick with hostility. **Caspian Vane** sat at a central table, flanked by **Lyra Valerius**, Elisa, and Casel. He looked perfectly at home in his uniform, his silver hair catching the morning light, but the social cost was high.
As groups of students passed by, they threw jagged glances of disgust at Caspian. Some whispered loudly about "the commoner," while others simply glared with the silent, cold hatred of the elite. Caspian, however, was an island of calm. He ate with practiced poise, seemingly oblivious to the daggers being stared into his back.
Across the vast hall, seated at a secluded table far from the center, were the other four: Zerav, Silas, Louisa, and Edna. They were a world apart, eating in a silence that felt heavy and ancient.
Lyra wasn't eating. Something had been gnawing at her since the previous evening—a memory she couldn't shake. It wasn't just Caspian's impossible vibration technique; it was Silas. She distinctly remembered that flash of silver-white light from beneath his hood during his bicycle kick.
"Was it just my mind playing games on me?" she wondered, her grip tightening on her fork.
"No. I'm certain of what I saw. There is something fundamentally different about them."
She summed up her courage to speak. Her social life had already taken a hit; her best friend Aisha had stopped speaking to her entirely, viewing Lyra's association with Caspian as a betrayal of their status but of course Lyra being who she is, she's practically untouchable.
"So... that fight yesterday," Lyra said, her voice cutting through the clatter of the cafeteria. The table went quiet. Casel and Elisa paused, their attention snapping to Caspian. "How did you do it, Caspian? Truly?"
Caspian paused, a spoonful of his meal halfway to his mouth. He noticed the intense gazes of his companions. "It was just a little bit of practice," he said simply, his voice light and airy. "Practice gets you where you need to be."
"You were really amazing, Caspian," Elisa added, her voice cute and melodious, though her eyes held a trace of lingering shock.
"I never really expected it from an..." Casel started, then bit his tongue. He looked away, searching for a word that wouldn't sound like an insult.
Caspian looked up, a curious, slightly amused spark in his eyes. "I get it. I'm not 'Royal' like the rest of you. But what is everyone's deal with that? Is it really such a crime to be different?"
"Well," Lyra said, swallowing a mouthful of food as she tried to find the right diplomatic angle. "You and the others are... well, you're the first Commoner to ever set foot in Aethelgard. The other students are finding it difficult to weigh the situation. They don't know where exactly you fit in the hierarchy, and with you and the others completing dominating each field, well they just refuse to accept that you might be better than them."
"They're just weighing over their heads," Casel quipped, flashing a grin.
A heavy silence followed. Lyra and Elisa stared at Casel with disappointed, blank expressions. Only Caspian offered a small, polite smile at the attempt at humor.
"Why are you even smiling, Caspian?" Lyra asked, sighing. "That wasn't even a good joke."
"I thought it made sense," Casel muttered, turning to Elisa for support. "Back me up here, Elisa. It was clever, right?"
Elisa tilted her head, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling as she thought. "Well... it... it had potential. Somewhere."
"What about you, Caspian?" Lyra pressed, ignoring Casel's pout. "You look like you were thinking of something else."
Caspian's smile faded into something softer, more distant. "The joke just reminded me of someone I used to know."
"Oh?" Elisa asked, leaning in. "Is he or she... gone? You know, passed away?"
"No," Caspian said, his voice dropping an octave. "I still see him around every day."
"Oh," Elisa exclaimed, feeling a sudden chill.
"But he doesn't act the way he used to," Caspian continued. He turned his head to the right, his gaze drifting across the cafeteria to the distant table where Silas sat, huddled under his hood. "He lost his reason for being when he lost everything.."
Caspian's eyes grew sad as he watched the hooded boy pick at his food with mechanical indifference. "Now, he's just a lost soul."
Lyra, Elisa, and Casel followed his gaze to the far table. They saw Zerav's stoic frame, Louisa's sharp alertness, and Edna's forced cheerfulness, but they couldn't pinpoint exactly who Caspian was mourning. To them, the four at the distant table were an enigma—a fortress of secrets that no noble could breach.
*Ding! Ding! Ding!*
The sharp chime of the class bell shattered the moment.
"Time for Theory of Mana," Casel groaned, standing up.
As they gathered their things, Lyra looked back one last time at the Commoners table. She saw Silas stand up, his movements stiff and ghostly.