The beginning of the semester passed without much fanfare.

  I settled into my new classes with a kind of quiet excitement. The more I learned, the more I realized how much there still was to understand. The Academy of Ascension was a marvel in every sense, and there were still moments when I struggled to believe I had made it this far.

  My combat training sharpened quickly. Professor Roark and the other instructors pushed me harder than before, breaking down my habits, correcting my footing, forcing me to refine every strike and movement. They put me against different monsters and students each week, each one demanding a new adjustment, a new angle, a new way of thinking.

  Practicing with Dusk on my own was one thing. Translating that practice into real fights was something else entirely. Little by little, the lessons settled into place. My instincts grew clearer. Our movements synced with less thought and more trust. And piece by piece, the training shaped itself into something truly dangerous.

  As the weeks unfolded, I began to understand what the instructors meant when they called this the foundation semester. They repeated it often enough during lectures and drills that the words worked their way into the rhythm of our days. Year One was not about tournaments or glory.

  It was about shaping the core of who we were becoming. They said that long before a warrior reached their peak, long before a mage mastered their craft or a ranger perfected their aim, the foundation was what carried them through.

  At first, the idea seemed simple. But as the semester continued, I started to see how wide that word truly stretched.

  The Academy pulled apart everything I thought I knew. Combat, discipline, movement, decision-making. Even the classes that had nothing to do with fighting forced me to grow in ways I hadn’t expected.

  Advanced Dungeon Ecology taught us how living formations shifted and breathed. Applied Aether Manipulation revealed just how much I didn’t know about how magic behaved, even though I couldn’t use it myself. Strategic Operations pushed us to look at the bigger picture beyond our own abilities.

  Some nights I left lectures with my head full and buzzing, as if the room itself had been pressing ideas into me.

  I still spent plenty of time with the others. Between classes we’d meet in the dining hall or walk together through the corridors. Milo was constantly trying to recruit me as a test subject for one of his “non-lethal devices,” which always sounded far less reassuring when he said it out loud. Malorn and Grond sparred often, and I joined them whenever the drills weren’t too brutal that day. Zephyra kept us balanced, as she always did, drifting between laughter and quiet guidance, steady as a lantern in a long hallway.

  We weren’t training for tournaments yet. Those wouldn’t begin until second year, and even then only for students who wanted to participate. But we still practiced together for fun, or sometimes out of habit, or sometimes because being around each other made the long days feel lighter.

  Our movements as a team had grown comfortable in the first semester, and even if the Academy emphasized solo growth now, the bond between us didn’t loosen.

  If anything, it became something we appreciated more when classes kept us apart.

  But still, the instructors pushed the same point again and again. Year One was about rounding our skills. Understanding our strengths, shoring up our weaknesses, and learning the fundamentals that would carry us beyond simple survival. Most students in the past who didn’t take these early lessons seriously never caught up. The gap widened each semester, and by the time tournaments arrived, it was too late to fix what should have been built here.

  The thought stayed with me.

  I didn’t want to be someone who barely got by, leaning on luck or talent alone. I wanted to build something solid. Something that would last.

  There were nights when I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling Dusk’s quiet presence through the bond as she rested nearby. I would think about the future, about where this path might lead, about the person I was carving myself into.

  I didn’t know what was ahead, but I wanted to be prepared.

  So each day I showed up. Each day I pushed farther. Each day I took one more step into the person I was becoming.

  Piece by piece, the foundation settled.

  —

  Today started like so many others had. It felt like it would be another ordinary day, or at least that’s what I thought.

  I sensed Asher enter the training hall before I ever saw him. The familiar pattern of his steps rippled through the stone beneath me while Dusk and I worked through one of our nightly routines. The moment I recognized him, my movements shifted. I swam through the ground, and burst upward in his direction.

  I hit the surface in a roll and came out of it straight into a sprint.

  Then I collided with him in a hug.

  “It’s good to see you too, kid,” Asher said, laughing as he caught me and held on for a moment before letting go.

  I stepped back, a grin splitting across my face.

  “What brings you to the Academy?” I asked.

  “Well, I’ve wanted to make my way to visit, when possible, but Emerilia told me I should come following your bond with Dusk.” He said while glancing at the transformed creature. “I’ve never seen something like what she is now…” he trailed off.

  “There are other reasons for my return, but first let’s head to the sparring ring,” he said with a grin and started walking.

  Dusk and I followed. The floor hummed beneath Asher’s steps, each vibration crisp through my senses. Lanterns glowed along the walls, throwing long shadows across the training hall. The air smelled of worn leather and stone still warm from earlier drills.

  Asher stepped into the center ring and motioned for me to join him.

  “I want to see how much you’ve changed. Emerilia’s message was… enthusiastic.”

  “That worries me,” I said.

  “It should,” he replied with a small smirk.

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  I entered the ring across from him. Dusk lowered beside me, her movements quiet and controlled. Asher studied her for a moment, his expression somewhere between curiosity and caution.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Bryn.”

  I didn’t respond. I let myself slip into the ground.

  The stone accepted me with familiar pressure, closing around my body until the world above became a map of vibrations. Every heartbeat, every shift of muscle, every breath traveled through the floor in clear waves. Asher’s stance was steady. His weight settled through the arches of his feet. He waited.

  I launched upward.

  The floor split as I burst out behind him. I reached for his shoulder, hoping to catch him off guard, but Asher twisted with practiced speed and caught my wrist. His grip held firm.

  “That’s new,” he said as he eased me back.

  I didn’t answer. I sank into the stone again.

  Dusk followed, her body entering the earth as if diving into water. Below the surface she moved even more smoothly than I did, her limbs tucked close, her entire form rippling through the ground in controlled waves.

  Asher turned slowly on the surface. “Two of you hiding under the floor will make this harder.”

  Dusk erupted behind him with her jaws slightly open. Asher reacted quickly, blocking with his forearm as she pushed him back a step. He shoved her away and regained his footing.

  The moment he reset his stance I felt his weight shift. That was my cue.

  I tore upward from the ground and came straight at him. Asher blocked the first strike and redirected the second, but this time he had to work for it. I rolled across the ground and came back to my feet breathing hard.

  He smiled. “Better. Again.”

  We moved without hesitation. I dove one way, Dusk another. Our senses aligned as we slid through the stone. Her presence sharpened my awareness until every vibration carried meaning. I could feel the rhythm of Asher’s stance changing as he adjusted to our pattern.

  So we changed it.

  Dusk sank deeper into the stone to build pressure. I skimmed just below the surface. Asher noticed the difference and braced himself.

  We broke the floor at the same moment.

  Dusk burst upward in a spiral of onyx and white. Asher moved to block her, raising his arm to absorb the hit, but she was only half the attack. I came from the opposite side. My heel swung toward his ribs. He barely caught my leg and redirected me.

  “Good. Fighting together is much harder to deal with,” he said.

  “We’ve been working on it.”

  “I would expect nothing less. Alright.” His disposition changing.

  He dropped into a deeper stance. One meant for real opponents, not students.

  “Again.”

  The ground became our battlefield. We sparred this way through the evening.

  At the end, Dusk tracked him from below while I wove narrow paths beneath his feet. His awareness sharpened with every pass, but we kept pushing harder. Dusk circled wide. I skimmed under his steps.

  She launched first. Her tail swept across his field of vision. The instant it distracted him I came out of the floor and drove my palm toward his chest.

  He blocked her. He missed me.

  Asher hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  For a moment the hall went completely silent.

  Then he laughed hard enough that his shoulders shook. “I was bound to take a hit eventually in a two against one bout.”

  Dusk trotted over and rested her head against him while he caught his breath. He ran a hand along her scales, slow and thoughtful.

  “You two move like you’ve been fighting together for years. I’ve trained bonded pairs for a long time, and I’ve never seen anything quite like what you just did.”

  I knelt beside him. “We’re still figuring it out.”

  “That’s what makes it impressive,” Asher said. “And maybe a little concerning.”

  I felt a small knot tighten in my stomach. “Concerning how?”

  He rose and offered me his hand. “Because this ability of yours... moving through the earth and launching out of it as if the stone isn’t even there... Bryn, that is what wyrms do. And you’re doing it with almost no aetheric cost, which I do not understand.”

  Dusk pressed against my leg, and a quiet pulse of unease ran through the bond.

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  Asher let out a slow breath. “I’ve spent my life in the guild. I’ve fought beasts from the northern cliffs to the deep caverns under the continent. I’ve met people with strange gifts and rare shard traits, but I have never — not once — known a child to bond with a shard and survive until you.”

  My heart thudded a little harder.

  He crouched, resting his palm on the floor as if feeling the echoes we had left behind. “When a shard fuses with someone, it rewrites them. The process is usually violent even for adults. That is why the nobility, and guilds hold so tightly to the chest specific shards and methods they know that work. Yet you survived merging with an unknown shard at five years old. And because of that, almost everything about your potential is a mystery. There is no pattern for someone like you.”

  I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat.

  Asher stood again, eyes drifting toward Dusk. “And then there’s her. Oreowls don’t transform like that. Bonds can evolve, yes, but those evolutions usually happen at higher tiers. Sometimes at specific power level thresholds. Sometimes through rituals or shards specifically designed to trigger it. There are known pathways and expected shapes.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Dusk didn’t follow any of those.”

  Dusk lifted her head at the sound of her name, white lines along her scales glowing faintly.

  “She changed because of your bond event,” Asher said. “Completely reshaped herself. No delay, no stages, no visible catalyst besides you. That alone puts her in a category I’ve never seen documented. And now both of you are slipping through solid stone without draining your aether or in such small amounts it doesn’t matter. That shouldn’t be possible.”

  I felt Dusk lean into me again. I rested a hand on her neck to steady both of us.

  “Asher,” I said quietly, “what are you saying?”

  He took a moment before answering. “I’m saying you’re in uncharted territory again. Whatever you and Dusk are becoming doesn’t match anything I’ve encountered or heard of. And that means your strengths, your limits, even the dangers… all of it is unknown.”

  He glanced at Dusk, his expression softening. “But you won’t be facing it alone. Whatever comes next, I’ll be with you in it. And so will she.”

  My chest lightened at those words.

  “And,” he added, reaching to scratch Dusk’s snout, “I’m grateful she chose you. You needed someone to walk this path with, and she is… remarkable. Whatever the two of you grow into, you’ll have each other at every step.”

  Dusk’s tail brushed my ankle in a slow sweep.

  Asher nodded back the direction he originally came from. “Come on. There’s more you need to hear.”

  —

  We sat together on a cold stone bench. Dusk rested at my feet, her breathing steady, her eyes following every shift in Asher’s posture. He took a moment, gathering himself, as if deciding how much of the truth to uncover.

  “A situation has developed on the southern edge of the continent. It started with a series of rift tears. They weren’t predicted. No build-up, no fluctuations, no warning at all.” He said quietly.

  My hands went cold.

  Asher continued. “They opened all at once. Dozens of them. The moment they appeared, monsters began spilling through. Full hordes.”

  I leaned forward. “That’s why Professor Roark left.”

  “And the other commanders,” Asher said with a slow nod. “They were called to reinforce the line. The worst of it is in the Emberfall region. One of the tears opened inside a fire bug hive. Those things multiply faster than rabbits on aether-rich soil. Now you have the rift creatures pushing from one side, the fire bug swarm pushing from another, and the hive itself erupting from below. It’s effectively a three-front battle.”

  Dusk gave a low, uneasy rumble.

  “Guilds from every nearby province went to help,” Asher said. “They’re working with city battalions and rangers to seal the rifts, but nothing has held for long. Every attempt collapses or the monsters break through before the ritual finishes.”

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw, tired in a way I didn’t often see.

  “This changes things, Bryn. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will accelerate everything in the academies and militaries across the continent. There will be more demand on all of you once you graduate. I do not believe this is going to be an isolated incident.”

  I swallowed. “What does that mean for us?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “But I wanted to let you know. Whatever is coming, it’s moving faster than anyone expected.”

  He stood, looking toward the upper levels of the Academy as if he could already sense the discussions waiting for him.

  “There are other matters I can’t speak on. Not yet. I need to meet with the Headmasters and with representatives from several guilds.”

  I rose as well. “Are you coming back afterward?”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “If I can. I am not sure when I must head south to help close the rifts.”

  Dusk nudged his hand, and he gave her a gentle scratch under the jaw.

  “Stay sharp, Bryn.”

  He turned, cloak shifting behind him, and headed toward the inner corridors where the Headmasters waited.

  I watched him go, the bench cold at my back, Dusk warm at my side.