The enveloping warmth of the luminous baths filled the air with soothing moisture, saturated with the scent of medicinal herbs and healing vapors.
The water's surface shimmered under the influence of the Lumen, disturbed only by the slow movements of bodies submerged within. A subtle blend of camphor and wild mint lingered in the air, while the hushed murmur of quiet conversations intertwined with the rhythmic lapping of water.
Soaking up to his shoulders in the steaming bath, Gaël closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat seep into muscles strained by the day's relentless training.
The delicious burn of his stiff limbs unwinding should have been enough to ease him. But it wasn't. His mind was elsewhere. Trapped by an image he couldn't shake, the face of that girl. Her gaze… that glimmer of gold entwined with a depth of shadow. An ethereal beauty, unsettling, coupled with an almost eerie strangeness.
He inhaled deeply, the steam-laden air pleasantly burning his lungs.
Who was she? The question gnawed at him.
Did the others know her? Or had she been a mirage, an apparition only he had witnessed?
No. He had to know for sure.
A few steps away, a lutech apprentice leaned against the edge of the pool. His damp chestnut hair clung to his angular, somewhat unwelcoming face. He seemed lost in thought, watching the swirling mist rising from the bath, his fingers idly drumming against the wet stone.
Gaël straightened slightly, causing the water around him to ripple, then leaned in just enough to speak quietly, discretion was expected in this space of relaxation.
"Hey… I've got a question."
The apprentice slowly turned his head toward him, one eyebrow raised, clearly surprised to be addressed. Gaël wasted no time.
"The girl with the two-colored eyes. Who is she?"
The apprentice's brow arched higher, a smirk pulling at his lips.
"Oh… you mean her? The crazy one with the mismatched eyes?"
He scoffed, as if the mere mention of her was amusing.
The word cracked through the air, sharp and unpleasant. Gaël's frown deepened, but he held back from reacting too soon.
"Crazy? She didn't seem…" he started.
"Everyone talks about her, but no one has the guts to say it to her face." The apprentice leaned back against the edge, arms crossed, his gaze darkening slightly. "Yeah, she's beautiful. Too much, even. The kind that makes you forget everything else. But that's not the issue. It's her eyes. Those damned eyes."
Gaël narrowed his own. "Why is she here? Who is she, really?"
The apprentice glanced around furtively, as if wary of prying ears. Then, lowering his voice, he murmured:
"She's the reason the Grand Druid came up with that insane idea to study the Umbra here. We lutech folks find it fascinating, real progress. But the Ardentis?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "It makes their skin crawl. To them, it's heresy."
He smirked, shaking his head. "You should see their faces when she walks through a corridor… It's like they expect her to explode on the spot."
Then, his amusement faded, replaced by a hint of bitterness. He leaned slightly toward Gaël and lowered his voice.
"Honestly? I don't think she'll last long." His gaze drifted over the water's surface, as if avoiding Gaël's eyes. "Living with an eye like that… it's like carrying a torch in the middle of the night. The darkness and the Umbra always find you in the end. And once they do, they never let you go."
A silence settled between them. Dense. Heavy with unspoken truths.
The sounds around them shrank to nothing more than the faint lapping of water.
Gaël sank deeper into the bath, the hot water licking at his collarbones while the scalding steam burned at his nostrils. And yet, no warmth seemed to reach the turmoil within him. The apprentice's words swirled in his mind, crashing like waves against the rocks of his reason.
The corruption of the Umbra… the madness that eats away at the mind.
He shut his eyes briefly, trying to stifle the quiet rebellion rising within him. But the memories surfaced. Those looks. The ones filled with distrust, with barely veiled disgust, gazes he had endured for years.
The silent judgment of strangers, of peers, sometimes even of adults, weighing upon him as he struggled against the darkness nested inside him. That constant, lurking fear of losing control. Of slipping into a shadow he wasn't always sure he was separate from.
Unfair.
That was his first thought.
Justified.
And the second.
Two emotions, as contradictory as those irises he had seen, blazing injustice and cold understanding.
How could such contradictions exist so fiercely within him? A part of him screamed that condemning someone for what they bore without choice was revolting. The other whispered the cruel truth, that stained ones were a latent danger. He himself had feared, on certain nights, that he would wake up as someone unrecognizable.
He inhaled, but instead of calming, the image returned. Those eyes.
One, a searing gold, radiating a light so pure it felt almost unreal. The other, abyssal, black as the depths of a bottomless well. There was no madness in them… No. Something else. Something older. Something vast. A force… or a curse.
The apprentice, for his part, had already ended the conversation. His eyelids heavy, he sank into the water, letting drowsiness take hold.
Gaël, however, remained awake, his thoughts restless beneath the smooth surface of his outward calm.
_ _ _
The next morning, the wind bit at the students' skin, sharp despite the sluggish rise of the sun over the academy's buildings. The air carried the scent of dust warmed by the first rays and the sweat already spilled onto the sandy ground. Around the circular training arena, the gray stone, scarred by countless past duels, bore silent witness to the battles fought there.
Gaël struggled to focus. Every movement felt more mechanical than deliberate, his arms rising at the barked commands without his mind truly following. His feet dug into the dirt, his muscles protested, but his attention kept drifting, again and again, toward the silhouette and the gaze from the night before. That girl… That eye… Why is this haunting me so much?
A sharp pain yanked him violently back to the present.
"Ardyn! Keep your guard up, for Lumen's sake!" a stern voice thundered.
Gaël winced. A sharp blow had struck his too-low guard, sending a painful tremor up his wrist. In front of him, their instructor for the day, a second-year student-teacher, lowered his training weapon with an irritated sigh.
"Are you asleep or what? Ground control isn't some slow dance for daydreamers!"
Gaël nodded, swallowing his frustration. Not the time for this. But the thread of his thoughts refused to snap. Focus.
Since their arrival, moments like this had become rare for him. Nearly two months had passed since training began, and despite the pain and exhaustion, Gaël could feel his body sharpening. His muscles, more defined beneath the training tunic, responded better. His movements were growing more fluid. Yet, he still lagged behind, especially compared to students who hadn't come from his hometown.
Today, however, his usual focus was failing him. And this wasn't just any instructor, this was Hector Dicon, and Hector didn't tolerate sloppiness.
Hector lowered his training staff, his voice cracking like a whip.
"It's simple: if your mind is wandering, you won't get the luxury of standing back up in a real fight." His gaze sharpened. "If you want to falter, do it somewhere else. But as long as you're in this arena, you stay on your feet."
Sweat dripped down Gaël's temples, his lungs burning as they dragged in the dust-laden air. He met Hector's eyes. No disdain. Just that cold, relentless expectation. But beneath that harshness, there was something else, a drive to push, to break and rebuild stronger.
Gaël swallowed hard. His fingers tightened around the grip of his weapon. I can't afford to falter…
Even if his mind kept pulling toward that two-toned gaze… here and now mattered. The strikes to endure. The lessons to climb, one blow at a time.
He reset his stance, heavy, but steady.
A fleeting smirk ghosted across Hector's lips.
"Better. Now try not to crumble."
The blows resumed. The muscles screamed.