The morning bell hummed through the Lyceum like a breath caught in crystal.
It didn't clang or ring.
It resonated—a single harmonic note that threaded through the dorm walls, the training fields, the meditation decks, and the quiet stillness of Zephryn's ribs.
He was already awake.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
Scarf wrapped loose around his neck, fingertips resting near the mark on the wall.
Selka stood by the door.
She hadn't knocked.
Hadn't asked.
She simply watched, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"You're not dressed for the scan," she said.
Zephryn stood, pulled the scarf tighter.
"I'm not going to the scan."
She blinked once.
"They'll notice."
"I want them to."
The training grounds were built like a ring split by glyph lines—each quarter tailored to elemental combat, sparring forms, and resonance flow.
Kaelen was already mid-form when they arrived—stone rising in a spiral around his boots as his arm flared orange.
Yolti stood at the center, palm extended, scattering his spiral with a counter-vein of wind-based disruption.
Selka entered without a word.
So did Zephryn.
Some students paused their routines to watch.
Eyes followed him now—not like a ghost, but like a name they couldn't place… but had definitely heard before.
"You sparring or spectating?" Kaelen called.
Zephryn stepped forward.
Kaelen tossed him a practice staff—pulse-etched, faded from years of impact.
Zephryn caught it in one hand.
Twirled it once.
Stopped.
The glyph on the end burned faint silver.
Just for a second.
Selka saw it.
So did Yolti.
But neither said a word.
They circled once.
Kaelen smiled. "Don't go easy."
Zephryn didn't smile back. "I won't."
Kaelen lunged.
The impact cracked against Zephryn's guard. His feet slid—but he didn't fall. He spun, brought the staff down, Kaelen blocked, countered, slipped beneath—
And then it happened.
Zephryn moved too fast.
Too fluid.
The scarf flared behind him—and as he struck, the glyph in his hand lit mid-swing.
A pulse shot out—
Silver.
Kaelen dropped his weapon, falling back.
Not hurt. Just stunned.
The crowd froze.
Selka stepped forward.
Yolti raised a hand, not in alarm—just awareness.
Zephryn stood still.
The glyph faded.
But his lips had started to move—halfway through a name.
A name that didn't exist in the Lyceum's scrolls.
"Veilma—"
He stopped.
Took a breath.
Didn't finish it.
Kaelen sat up. "…You were about to say something."
Zephryn looked at his hands.
Closed them into fists.
"Not yet."