Alyra tied her hair into a tight ponytail. Wild, furious curls would only get in the way during training, and she needed them out of her face.

  Her first lesson with the legendary instructor Varom was about to begin, and focus was everything. Rumor had it he was old-school and relentless, and one of the girls whispered that he had once trained Isabelle. Supposedly, the two had shared a special bond. Isabelle had even been his favorite student for a time.

  Varom’s personal attention was an honor reserved for only a handful of students over the years. If he ever looked her way like that, everything would change.

  Her arms throbbed from the morning drills with Tanya, the simple act of lifting them enough to draw a wince. She could only hope the first day would be limited to theory and meditation. Varom was one of the greatest masters of channeling energy through the chakras, and many of his lessons were held in absolute silence, students left with nothing but breathing and concentration exercises.

  The locker room buzzed with noise. Girls joked, gossiped, and traded sharp words in hushed voices. Every corner was alive with chatter. None of it included her.

  At best, she caught a glance, a finger pointed in her direction, a whisper half-hidden behind a palm.

  Would she ever belong among them? Maybe. She just needed patience. Or maybe she had to prove herself first, before trust could take root.

  She rolled her shoulders and flexed her arms, trying to ease the soreness in her muscles.

  The locker room door burst open, and the girls rushed toward the gym. Alyra stepped aside to let them pass.

  One of them halted in front of her. “You coming or what?”

  Alyra forced a weak smile. “Oh, hey, Mirelle. Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  Mirelle smiled back. “Don’t fall behind. We Sprouts have to stick together.”

  Alyra gave a quick nod. Mirelle barely remembered she existed once a week. Some way of sticking together. Still, better that way, Mirelle was far too devout for her tastes. “So, any idea when you’ll get promoted to Seedling?”

  Maybe then you’ll stop saying nonsense like that.

  Mirelle shrugged. “Who knows? Depends on how I do with Varom. Today’s the first lesson with him. They say he’s terrifying.”

  “Don’t be scared,” Alyra said. “I heard he’s one of the best instructors in the academy. He even trained Isabelle once. He must be great.”

  Mirelle’s polite smile never reached her eyes. “If you say so...”

  “Then we’d better get moving,” Alyra said. “No point making Varom angry on the first day.”

  Mirelle nodded and jogged off to rejoin the others.

  Alyra hurried after her, pushing through the doors into the gym.

  The place looked the same as she remembered, though for some reason it felt smaller now.

  Varom stood at the center of the wide floor, spine straight, jaw tight, a black sheet draped over the board behind him. Tall and lean, with short white hair and eyes like cold steel. His uniform was a formal version of the instructors’ attire, trimmed with golden insignia, and a dark mantle hung across his broad shoulders.

  The girls were already lining up in front of him. The instant they saw him, chatter and laughter vanished, just as it always did with Instructor Claudine. But this time the silence came more from awe than fear.

  Varom stayed perfectly still until the line was set without a flaw.

  Alyra slipped into the far end, as usual. For once, being pushed out of his direct line of sight felt like a blessing.

  Silence blanketed the gym.

  Varom’s gaze swept slowly from one end of the line to the other.

  Satisfied, he gave a single nod. As he began to speak, the air in the room seemed to grow colder. “Good morning, Novices. For those who haven’t met me, my name is Varom Belthar, senior head instructor.”

  Alyra tried to vanish into the line, even slowing her breathing as if that could keep him from noticing her. His presence pressed down on her like weight made solid, impossible to ignore even from several feet away.

  She stole a glance at the others. More than one face had drained of color, and Mirelle looked close to fainting.

  So it wasn’t just her. The only one standing firm was Tanya, who locked eyes with him in something close to defiance.

  With slow, deliberate steps, Varom started toward her.

  At first, Alyra told herself he must be heading for some training tool or piece of equipment. But each step tracked directly to where she stood.

  Her throat tightened as she swallowed, pulse hammering in her ears.

  With each step, his presence pressed down harder, suffocating. Every instinct screamed to run. This man was too powerful, too dangerous.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She risked a glance. Their eyes met for the briefest instant.

  Her gaze dropped at once, but the weight of his stare lingered, sharp and unyielding, every footfall driving it deeper.

  He stopped directly in front of her.

  Her chest pounded as she forced her head up.

  Varom studied her from head to toe, expression carved in stone.

  Her legs wanted to move, to flee, but she locked them in place. Not even the monster in Ebonshade had shaken her this badly. And Varom wasn’t an enemy. He was her instructor. So why was she trembling?

  At last, he stepped past.

  The crushing weight lifted, and air rushed from her lungs in a shuddering breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  The instructor paused before each girl, only for a few seconds at a time. Step, halt, move again.

  All in silence.

  When he reached Mirelle, the Sprout faltered back a step, trembling, breath caught in ragged gasps.

  Varom’s brow creased, barely a shift in his stern mask. “Return to formation. Now.”

  “Yes, sir!” Mirelle’s face had drained to chalk white as she stumbled back into line.

  A curt nod, and Varom moved on.

  Mirelle stood rigid at attention, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. Out of the corner of her eye, Alyra could see her shoulders quivering.

  When Varom stopped before Tanya, the girl met his stare head-on. She squared her shoulders, jaw clenched, chest straining as if she bore an invisible weight. Not once did her expression waver.

  The instructor tilted his head and stepped closer. Even with Tanya the tallest among them, she still fell short of his chin. He loomed so near her chest almost touched him, rising and falling in quick, controlled breaths, like she was locked in a duel with something unseen.

  Alyra caught the scene at the edge of her vision but forced herself to keep her head forward. She didn’t need to look to know Varom would notice.

  At last, Varom gave a slight nod and moved on.

  By the time he reached the far end of the line, Alyra’s heartbeat had finally slowed. She didn’t envy the poor girl standing directly under his gaze. Alyra couldn’t see her from where she stood, but the whimper followed by a stifled sob told enough.

  All things considered, Alyra hadn’t fared too badly. Tanya was in a league of her own, sure, but compared to most of the others, she hadn’t been a complete disaster.

  “Very well,” Varom said as he returned to the center. “That was… an interesting test.”

  His eyes swept across them. “For those who joined recently and had no idea what just happened, know this: what you felt is part of the discipline I teach. Experiencing it firsthand, without warning, is the only way to understand its weight.”

  He strode to the board and pulled the cloth aside. A sketch of a human figure encased in a sphere filled most of the surface. Seven points shone along the body. Two at the hands, two at the feet, one at the head, one at the chest, and one at the abdomen.

  “This,” Varom said, tapping the figure, “is the projection of the auric sphere.”

  “When two wielders of sphere energy clash, each becomes aware of the other’s aura. Unless you have a Seer at your side, the only way to gauge that power is to meet your opponent in combat, often to the death.” His gaze cut through them, sharp and unyielding.

  No one moved. No one dared speak.

  “Keeping your true level hidden,” Varom went on, “is often a matter of survival. If the enemy realizes he’s weaker, he’ll flee, robbing you of the chance to strike him down. If he learns he’s stronger, he’ll press the attack and force you to retreat.”

  He gestured back to the sketch. “Your aura is a sphere of energy surrounding you, like the glow of a candle inside glass. The brighter the flame, the farther the light extends. Step away, and its light fades. Unlike candlelight, however, your aura is pulled inward, contained by the binding of your chakras.”

  Alyra clung to every word. He had barely begun, yet she already grasped Orbisar’s power more clearly than ever before. For all his severity, he was an excellent teacher.

  Varom tapped one of the chakra marks on the drawing. “Chakras hold your power in place like magnets. They keep it from slipping beyond your control. But in battle, they react. They release your energy outward, and your aura unfolds around your body like a cocoon.” He cupped his hands into spheres and overlapped them, weaving his fingers together. “It’s in that instant—when two auric spheres collide—that you instinctively, unmistakably perceive the true strength of your opponent compared to your own. Is that clear so far?”

  His eyes swept over the students again, waiting for any kind of response.

  A hand went up.

  Varom gave a slight nod. “Go on, Tanya.”

  The Thorn met his gaze with calm confidence. “How much difference in power is needed for both fighters to sense it clearly?”

  “Typically, a full rank is always unmistakable,” Varom said. “An Iron-rank sphere wielder facing a Bronze will recognize the gap at once. More subtle differences require training to detect. Training you will receive here at this academy.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Tanya lowered her arm.

  Varom cleared his throat. “Unless you master advanced techniques beyond the scope of this course, it is impossible to fight without exposing your auric level. Keep that in mind. However, it is possible to reveal your aura deliberately, without engaging in combat.”

  “But didn’t you just say it’s important never to show it?” The words tumbled out before Alyra could stop herself. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Had she really spoken, without even raising her hand?

  Tanya’s eyebrow shot up, her smirk dripping with condescension. A couple of girls muffled giggles.

  Varom turned toward her, a twitch pulling at his cheek. “May I have your name? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? “Alyra Greaves, sir.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “That doesn’t sound like a Rothmere name.”

  “I—I’m from the jungle, sir.”

  “Ah. Then you must be one of the survivors from Ebonshade, the one rescued by Warden Isabelle in the wilds.”

  “Yes, sir!” Alyra blurted, the heat now burning all the way to her ears.

  “Good. Then understand this, Alyra: when you wish to speak in my lessons, you raise your hand first.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  She swallowed hard. Perfect. Now she was branded the jungle savage who didn’t even know how to behave in class.

  “Her question, however,” Varom said, “strikes at the heart of today’s lesson. If hiding your aura is so vital, why would an Orbisar Ascendant ever choose to reveal it on purpose?”

  He paused, letting the silence stretch. Clearly this wasn’t review material.

  No one dared to answer.

  No one except Alyra, who raised her hand this time.

  Varom gestured for her to speak.

  At this point, she figured she’d already made a fool of herself, might as well go all in. “To scare off an enemy we don’t want to fight,” she said.

  The instructor rubbed his chin, then gave a slow nod. “Correct. You may face situations where you don’t wish to fight, even if you believe you hold the advantage. The reasons can be countless, and I won’t spell them out now. That will come in later lessons. My task today is to teach you how to release your aura on command, so your opponent feels it before the fight even begins.”

  Alyra’s mouth parted in shock. So that crushing terror from earlier—that irresistible urge to run—that had been his aura?

  Just how strong was Varom? Strong enough to face Uriela herself, maybe.

  “As you’ve likely realized, what you felt was only a fraction of my aura,” Varom said. “If I had unleashed my full power, most of you wouldn’t still be standing. Some of you,” his eyes flicked to Mirelle as his lip curled, “wouldn’t be standing at all.”

  Mirelle paled and shifted uneasily.

  Her eyes darted toward Alyra, who dropped her gaze at once. Alyra had told her everything would be fine, yet clearly, it hadn’t been.

  “Very well,” Varom said. “We’ll begin the first exercises to help you sense your chakras. Fetch the mats and lie down. We start when you’re ready.”

  The girls broke formation and hurried to the stack of mats in the corner, silence weighing heavy on the air.

  Alyra was about to follow when Varom raised two fingers, summoning her closer.

  A knot twisted in her gut. What had she done this time? She glanced at the others already spreading out, then clasped her hands in front of her and met his steel-gray eyes.

  Several girls pointed in her direction, a few snickering. Tanya shot her a curious look.

  “Alyra Greaves,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How did you feel when I projected my aura onto you earlier?”

  Her throat scraped dry as she tried to swallow. “It was… um, scary, sir.”

  His eyebrow arched. “That’s it? Just ‘scary’?”

  What was she supposed to say? And why single her out? “Well… very scary, actually. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to stand.”

  Varom stroked his chin, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “You’re only a Sprout. And this was your first time facing such a test, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded quickly.

  Varom stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “With you, I didn’t hold back the way I did with the others. The auric level you endured would have knocked any of them unconscious, Alyra Greaves.”

  She gaped at him. What was he even saying? What did it mean?

  The instructor’s gaze cut like ice. “I noticed a fraction of my aura left you untouched, so I released it in full. And still, nothing. You claim you were only ‘a little scared.’ So tell me, how is it possible that a young Sprout on her very first day could endure something like that?”

  “I—I don’t know, sir. Maybe… maybe you made a mistake?”

  His brow furrowed, jaw tightening. “No, Alyra. I do not make mistakes. Have you ever been examined by a Seer before beginning this course?”

  Alyra’s stomach dropped. Examined? Why was he asking that now? “N-no, sir. I’m just a Sprout. I don’t think there’s, um, much to examine.”

  Varom’s mouth twisted. “Nonsense. I’ll request an experienced Seer immediately. Clearly something escaped Instructor Claudine’s notice. I’ll speak with her.” He flicked a hand to dismiss her.

  Ice gripped her stomach. Her hands trembled as she walked back toward the others. If a Seer examined her now, how long before her secret was exposed?

  She needed to find Derek, to tell him she was in trouble. But after the way their last conversation had ended… would he even want to help her?

  Her pulse hammered, fingers shaking. One day in the academy, and everything already felt like it was falling apart.

  Maybe there was one other person who could help—and who had a reason to.

  You just had to be desperate enough to think it was a good idea.

  And she was. Far too desperate.

  She could ask Sierelith.