CHAPTER 28: INSTINCT IN THE WIND

The cafeteria buzzed like a low, unending current—clattering trays, the shimmer of mana-enhanced burners, and the overlapping murmur of nearly a hundred conversations. Ethan stepped in beside Kai and Aiden, the scent of spiced meat and herbs filling the air instantly. A mild enchantment above the room cycled clean air downward, mixing with the warmth of roasted bread and tangy sauces.

They filed into the line, Ethan grabbing a deep ceramic bowl from the floating rack as Kai leaned over the rail to see what was steaming in the golden trays.

"Please tell me it’s those fried mana rice dumplings," Kai said, peeking.

"Top left," Aiden replied, already nudging a tray into Ethan’s hands. "Take them before they’re gone."

Ethan accepted it quietly, letting the warmth bleed into his fingers. It had been a long morning.

The lunch line moved steadily, students picking out meals crafted from elemental-infused ingredients—flame-charred vegetables that steamed on their own, water-enriched noodles that shimmered like glass, and cooling fruit slices that soothed mana with every bite.

Ethan loaded up without much thought—dumplings, fire-baked squash, a slice of healing-fruit tart—then followed the others toward the triad seating area, a series of runed tables arranged in loosely defined clusters. A faint buzzing spell filtered sound for each group, so conversations remained private unless someone wanted to be heard.

They found their usual spot near the tall arched windows, where sunlight poured in and made everything feel a little too peaceful.

Kai dropped into his seat with a theatrical groan. "If I fall into a mana nap after this, I’m blaming Marek and his abomination class. That orb thing nearly collapsed on me."

Aiden grinned as he sat down across from him. "Because you tried to give it stone arms. Maybe it didn’t want arms."

"I was innovating," Kai said, pointing his spoon like a sword. "Art takes risk."

Ethan chuckled quietly and took a bite. The tart was cool, soft, and tasted like summer berries. He barely had time to enjoy it before voices approached their table.

"Yo, Kai!" a girl called, pushing her tray down beside him with a clink. "You’re still alive after the glyph pressure circuit? I swear I saw smoke coming off you when class ended."

Another student, lanky with dyed green tips in his hair, followed behind her. "Aiden. I swear every time we end up in group practice, you make the rest of us look like idiots. I’m filing a complaint."

Kai snorted. "If I’m smoking, it’s because of that spell you launched five feet too wide."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "I wasn’t even casting. That was Brin’s ricochet."

"You wound me," Brin replied, mock clutching his chest. Then his gaze turned to Ethan, and his tone shifted, softer. "You’re Darius, right?"

Ethan’s spoon paused midair. He swallowed. "Yeah. That’s me."

The girl next to Brin tilted her head. "You’ve been... different lately. People are noticing."

"Different how?" Ethan asked casually, taking another bite.

"I mean, not being a complete ass," she replied, blunt. "Used to be we’d just hear about Darius screaming at someone or throwing magic in the hall. Now it’s like... ’Hey, Darius helped me anchor a bind spell’ or ’Darius actually said thank you.’ Kinda spooky."

Kai laughed into his drink. "Told you the world’s ending."

Aiden smirked. "He’s just mellowing out. Growth arc."

Ethan gave a half smile, brushing some crumbs off his tray. "Maybe I got tired of being an idiot all the time."

Brin blinked. "Huh. You’re kinda funny when you’re not being terrifying."

"We were thinking," the girl cut in, "if you guys are done after this—there’s an open combat sim room in the west wing. Professor Ghale’s not booking it till evening."

Kai raised a brow. "I’m down."

Aiden nodded. "Could be fun."

They both looked to Ethan, who shook his head gently. "Appreciate it, but I’ve got something else planned."

"Come on," Brin urged, "it’ll be low key. Just drills. No spell wars."

Ethan smiled, faint but sincere. "Next time. I’ve got to work on something solo. Specific focus."

The girl gave a small shrug. "Your loss. Don’t burn yourself out."

As they wandered back to their conversation, Kai leaned in. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Ethan said, standing and adjusting his tray. "Just... need the headspace. Catch you two later?"

Aiden gave a thumbs-up. "Don’t forget to stretch."

Ethan left his tray in the slot near the door and walked out into the open hallway, footsteps echoing faintly against the high, polished arches of the academy interior. The sun filtered through crystalline windows in thick beams, casting geometric patterns across the floor as he moved.

He hadn’t lied.

He did need space.

And he definitely needed to figure out what the hell was happening with his body.

The hallway branched near the southern wing, where training rooms were available for individual use. The circular doors shimmered with embedded detection runes—if one was in use, it glowed red. If open, soft green. Most glowed red now.

But one, far off near the end of the wing, blinked green.

Perfect.

He headed toward it.

As he stepped closer, the hum of magic registered—quiet, deep, rhythmic. Not the pulse of a room waiting to be used, but the ambient echoes of someone already casting.

Ethan paused, frowned, and walked a bit slower.

The hum grew clearer.

He reached the door.

And froze.

Lucien was inside.

His breath hitched as he peeked through the observation pane. Lucien stood at the center of the reinforced circle, sweat dotting his brow, shirt clinging to his torso. His mana trailed like smoke from his body, coiling fire-red and deep silver. He moved like he’d done this a thousand times—each spell precise, each movement clean.

It was like watching someone who was born in control.

Ethan backed up slowly, heart suddenly too loud in his ears.

Not today.

No way in hell.

He turned to leave, putting as much quiet distance between himself and the door as possible.

Then stopped.

Because when he turned around—

Lucien was right there.

Ethan yelped, nearly stumbling backward into the wall.

"Stars above—don’t do that!"

Lucien didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just stared.

"Why are you watching me?"

"I wasn’t," Ethan said quickly, heart slamming in his chest. "I was—uh—training. Came to use the room. Didn’t know it was—yours."

Lucien studied him, arms crossed.

"Then come in."

Ethan hesitated.

Lucien didn’t blink.

He swallowed. "Sure. Just training."

Lucien turned, and Ethan followed him inside—every instinct telling him this was a bad idea.

Ethan followed Lucien into the training room, the door’s hum fading behind them. Lucien moved with quiet confidence, heels clicking on polished floor, while Ethan’s heart pounded like a war drum. The soft clang of the barrier circle’s runes filled the space—empty now, waiting.

Lucien paused in the center, turning slowly to face him. "You said you wanted to train," he murmured. "Here."

Ethan swallowed, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Yeah. Thanks."

He shifted toward the practice circle, kneeling to stretch his legs. Every movement felt heavy, as though Lucien’s unreadable gaze pulled at his core. He tried to relax. Tried to breathe through it.

But the tension hanged low in his chest.

Lucien didn’t relent. He stood still, watching Ethan trace slow arcs on the floor, preparing a warm-up spell. Ethan raised his wandless hand and whispered a momentum charm, causing the runes to glow softly beneath.

Lucien smirked. "You’ve improved."

Ethan ignored the praise. The words stung. Improvement felt like walking uphill barefoot. "Thanks."

Lucien took a step closer. His eyes were focused — not angry, curious. "That form... it flickered earlier. Your body isn’t as solid as it looks."

Ethan’s pulse jumped. He breathed tightly. "I’m... working on stability."

"Impressive," Lucien said quietly. "It’s not easy."

Ethan kept adjusting his robes. "Yeah, well. Some of us have to learn hard."

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Why hide it?"

Ethan’s muscles tensed. He stood straight, fists clenching. "What are you—"

Lucien interrupted, voice low. "I’m asking. That reaction—."

The question hung heavy. Ethan closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Look. I’ve got things I’m working through. I just want to train. That’s it."

Lucien took another step in. "That’s not enough."

Ethan swallowed. "What—what do you want me to say?"

A silence fell. Then Lucien exhaled slowly. "Repeat what I asked."

Ethan’s chest tightened. He met his gaze. "You asked why I’m hiding it."

"And?"

Ethan swallowed. "Because... I’m not ready."

Lucien’s expression grew dark. "That’s not an answer."

Ethan’s breath caught. His elemental body—a new melody he hadn’t fully controlled yet—throbbed beneath his skin. It fought for structure. Begged for refuge.

He heard Lucien inhale.

Then—

Lucien stepped toward him, already drawing a spell. His palm glowed faint—a pressure that coiled with power. "You’ll tell me or I’ll find out myself."

Ethan felt panic rise. Terrified, rooted to the spot. He shook fast, eyes darting.

Something snapped.

He could feel his skin hum.

Threads of wind wrapped around him.

He gasped.

The wind flared.

A powerful gust erupted from his form. He hadn’t meant it—but he was reacting, defending. The gust slammed into Lucien’s spell just as it released.

The fire-silver magic mingled with wind energy in the air. Arc lit dust and mana. They both staggered.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed as he fought to balance. He stumbled backward as the wind carried the force, and he hit the barrier’s edge with a grunt, rolling back to his feet.

Lucien caught himself against the edge of the circle, his boots skidding slightly on the smooth floor. He blinked—once, then twice—his hair tousled by the lingering gust. The fury that had flashed in his eyes just seconds before... dimmed.

Replaced by something sharper.

He looked at Ethan, not with hate, but with interest. Head tilted slightly. Eyes narrowed—not in rage, but in deep, calculating focus.

"That wasn’t just wind," he said slowly, voice almost fascinated. "That was... something else."

Ethan stayed silent, breath hitching, unsure if it was safe to move.

Lucien stepped forward once, gaze still pinned to him—not threatening, not friendly. Just... curious.

"How did you do that?"