The Shadow Walker
The fourth morning brought subtle changes that spoke of Pendacore's tonic finally beginning to fade. Leizar woke not to screaming nightmares, but to a gradual return of familiar weight pressing against his thoughts. The sharp edges between his memories were still softened, but no longer completely numbed. His shadow, which had lain docile and ordinary for those blissful days, began to stir with subtle independence.
A tremendous crash from the mantelpiece made all five boys bolt upright in their beds. Where Ulric had settled the night before, there was now a dragon easily the size of a small horse, his gossamer wings spanning nearly ten feet when fully extended. The mantelpiece itself had partially collapsed under his increased weight, sending several of Severan's carefully arranged academic materials clattering to the floor.
"Ulric!" WindRaven exclaimed, rushing to his bonded companion. The dragon looked around with obvious embarrassment, his starlight eyes wide with confusion at his dramatically increased size. His obsidian scales had deepened to a rich darkness that seemed to drink in the morning light, and when he tried to purr his usual greeting, the sound was deep enough to make the window glass vibrate.
"Statistical impossibility," Severan muttered, frantically calculating in his notebook. "Growth rate suggests full adult size achieved in single overnight period. Acceleration factor approximately... seven hundred percent beyond projected parameters."
"He's magnificent," Raelith breathed, studying the dragon's powerful form. Ulric had retained his elegant proportions despite the dramatic size increase, his ancient intelligence shining clearly in eyes that now held depths of power that hadn't been there the night before.
"And enormous," Sylas added practically. "We can't possibly keep him in the dormitory now."
Ulric chirped apologetically - though the sound now carried harmonics that made the air itself seem to shimmer - and carefully folded his wings against his sides. Even with obvious effort to make himself smaller, he dominated the room's space completely.
"Don't worry, little prince," WindRaven said, reaching up to stroke the dragon's now much larger head. "We'll figure something out. We always do."
But when Ulric turned those ancient starlight eyes toward Leizar, there was something in his gaze that spoke of recognition, of understanding that went far beyond what any normal dragon should possess. The look lasted only a moment, but it left Leizar with the strange feeling that Ulric knew exactly what was happening to all of them.
"He can sense it," Sylas observed quietly, his seafoam eyes meeting Leizar's across the room. "The change in your shadow. Dragons are sensitive to magical fluctuations, and at his new size..."
"He's reading the magical atmosphere like a map," Leizar finished, understanding. The dragon's overnight transformation wasn't random - it was a response to the shifting magical energies around them, particularly the growing instability of Leizar's shadow magic as Pendacore's tonic effects continued to fade.
"How bad is it?" Raelith asked, already reaching for his Academy robes while casting worried glances at both Leizar and the newly massive dragon.
"Not bad yet," Leizar replied, though uncertainty crept into his voice. "But I can feel it stirring. Like something waking up after being sedated." He looked at Ulric, who was watching him with obvious concern. "And apparently Ulric feels it too."
Severan looked up from his morning calculations. "Statistical analysis suggests gradual degradation of pharmaceutical intervention rather than sudden cessation. However, draconic growth acceleration indicates environmental magical pressure beyond normal parameters. Conclusion: situation more complex than initially projected."
"Which means we need to get to Master Pendacore immediately," WindRaven said, carefully helping Ulric navigate the now-cramped space toward the door. "He needs to know about this growth spurt, and we need to understand what it means."
The corridor outside their dormitory room had never seemed narrower. Ulric moved with careful grace, his wings folded tightly and his head lowered to avoid the ceiling fixtures, but his presence was impossible to ignore. Students emerging from their own rooms stopped mid-conversation to stare at the magnificent creature that had been merely large-dog-sized the day before.
"Is that Ulric?" asked a student from the room next door, his eyes wide with amazement. "He's... he's actually full-grown now."
"Overnight," WindRaven confirmed, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and concern. "We're heading to find Master Pendacore."
Word spread through the Academy corridors like wildfire. By the time they reached the Great Hall, a small crowd of students had gathered to witness Ulric's dramatic transformation. The dragon handled the attention with his usual dignity, but there was something in his ancient eyes that suggested he was evaluating each person who approached, judging their intentions with intelligence that seemed far too sophisticated for his apparent age.
The Great Hall itself fell silent as they entered. Ulric's presence commanded attention in a way that had nothing to do with mere size - there was an aura of ancient power about him now, a sense that something significant had awakened during the night hours.
"Extraordinary," Professor Aldrich murmured, approaching their table with obvious fascination. "Full adult size achieved in a matter of hours. I've never seen anything like it."
"Is it normal?" WindRaven asked, though the question was clearly rhetorical. Nothing about their situation had been normal from the moment Ulric hatched.
"Dragons respond to magical pressures in their environment," Professor Aldrich explained, her steel-gray eyes studying Ulric with professional interest. "Rapid growth usually indicates the presence of significant magical instability or threat. His transformation is likely a protective response."
"Protective against what?" Leizar asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
Professor Aldrich's gaze shifted to him, her expression growing more serious. "Against whatever's causing the magical fluctuations he's responding to." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Dragons have excellent instincts about these things. If Ulric felt the need to reach full size overnight, there's probably a very good reason."
Breakfast became an impromptu exhibition as students from across the Academy came to see the dragon who had achieved full growth in a single night. Ulric accepted the attention graciously, but Leizar noticed he kept one eye constantly on the Great Hall's entrances, as if watching for threats that only he could detect.
"He's different," Elena Brightwater observed, offering Ulric a cluster of flowers that bloomed in response to his presence. The dragon accepted them with careful courtesy, but his ancient eyes held depths that hadn't been there before. "Not just bigger. More... aware."
"Adult dragons process information differently than hatchlings," Sylas replied quietly. "His intelligence was always there, but now he has the cognitive capacity to use it fully."
As if to demonstrate the point, Ulric's attention suddenly fixed on something across the hall that the humans couldn't see. His head tilted with obvious interest, and he made a complex series of chirps that sounded almost conversational - as if he was responding to information only he could perceive.
"What's he hearing?" WindRaven asked, following Ulric's gaze but seeing nothing unusual.
"Probably magical resonances," Severan suggested, making notes about the dragon's behavior. "At his size, he can detect energy patterns across much greater distances. Theoretical range for adult Obsidian Drake sensory capabilities: several miles minimum."
Their first class of the day was History of Magical Institutions with Master Thorne. The instructor took one look at Ulric - who had to duck significantly to enter the classroom - and immediately conjured a larger space for the dragon to rest comfortably during the lesson.
"Today we'll be discussing the relationship between various magical peoples and their territorial boundaries," Master Thorne announced, his usual composed demeanor only slightly shaken by having a full-grown dragon as an audience member. "Can anyone tell me why the Fae Wild is considered neutral territory despite being claimed by multiple courts?"
Several hands rose, but Master Thorne's gaze fell on Leizar. "Mr. Blackthorne? Your perspective?"
Leizar felt a strange stirring in his memory, as if information he'd never learned was suddenly available. "Because the Wild itself chooses its allegiances," he said, the words coming from somewhere deeper than conscious knowledge. "The land recognizes power and purpose, not political boundaries. Those who try to claim it without earning its respect find themselves... lost."
Master Thorne's eyebrows rose with interest. "Very good. And what determines whether someone has 'earned its respect'?"
Again, the knowledge seemed to come from nowhere. "Service to the deeper magics. Acceptance of prices that others wouldn't pay. The Wild rewards those who understand that true power requires sacrifice." The words left a strange taste in his mouth, as if he was quoting someone whose voice he couldn't quite remember.
"Excellent insights," Master Thorne said, though his tone suggested he was wondering where a first-year student had acquired such sophisticated understanding of Fae politics. "The Wild does indeed respond to individuals who demonstrate commitment to forces beyond conventional morality."
Ulric chirped softly, a sound that seemed to carry approval. When Leizar glanced at the dragon, those ancient starlight eyes met his with something that might have been recognition.
The lesson continued with discussions of various magical territories and the complex relationships between their inhabitants. But Leizar found himself contributing knowledge he shouldn't have possessed, understanding political nuances and historical contexts that weren't covered in any of their assigned readings.
Their next class, Dimensional Theory with Professor Aldrich, proved even more revealing. When the discussion turned to interdimensional travel and the barriers between worlds, Leizar found himself asking questions that demonstrated familiarity with concepts far beyond first-year curriculum.
"How do the Aquatic Elves maintain their isolation from other dimensional influences?" he asked during a discussion of magical barriers. "Their ocean cities should be vulnerable to interdimensional drift, but they seem to maintain perfect stability."
Professor Aldrich studied him with renewed interest. "That's... a very advanced question, Mr. Blackthorne. Most students don't encounter interdimensional stability theory until fourth year." She paused, considering how to answer. "The Aquatic Elves have developed some of the most sophisticated dimensional anchoring techniques known to magical science. Their cities are bound to specific oceanic energy patterns that create natural barriers against external influences."
"But that would require artifacts of incredible power," Leizar pressed, the knowledge continuing to surface from whatever hidden depths of memory were being stirred. "Something that could channel oceanic forces on a massive scale."
"Indeed," Professor Aldrich replied slowly. "The legends speak of a great bow crafted from the bones of an ancient sea dragon, capable of binding water itself to the wielder's will. Aurlien, they call it - though most scholars consider it mythical."
Ulric's attention sharpened dramatically at the mention of the bow's name, his ancient eyes fixing on the professor with obvious interest.
"What makes it mythical rather than simply lost?" Sylas asked, his seafoam eyes holding depths that suggested personal interest in the answer.
"The legends claim that Aurlien can only be wielded by one who is bound to the Nameless Queen," Professor Aldrich explained. "Since the Queen exists in the spaces between known realms, finding someone with such a connection would be... challenging. Wars have been fought over lesser artifacts, but Aurlien remains safely theoretical."
Leizar felt a strange chill run through him at the mention of the Nameless Queen, as if someone had walked over his grave. Ulric made a soft sound that might have been sympathy or recognition, but when Leizar looked at him questioningly, the dragon's expression was unreadable.
"The bow itself," Professor Aldrich continued, "is said to be capable of piercing any defense, binding any force, and compelling absolute truth from any target. In the wrong hands, it could reshape the balance of power between all magical peoples."
"But in the right hands?" Raelith asked quietly.
"In the right hands, it could save or damn entire civilizations," Professor Aldrich replied. "Which is why most scholars prefer to consider it mythical. Some powers are too dangerous to hope for."
The rest of the class passed in subdued discussion of theoretical artifacts and their historical impacts, but Leizar found his attention drifting. The knowledge that had surfaced during these lessons felt familiar yet foreign, as if he was remembering someone else's experiences. And Ulric's reactions to certain topics suggested the dragon understood far more about these mysteries than a newly-hatched creature should.
Lunch provided a welcome distraction from the morning's revelations, though Ulric's presence in the Great Hall continued to draw attention from students and faculty alike. The dragon had learned to navigate the space carefully, his movements graceful despite his impressive size, but there was no ignoring the fact that they were now traveling with what amounted to a young adult dragon.
"The kitchen staff prepared something special for Ulric," Elena Brightwater announced, approaching their table with obvious excitement. She was carrying a large silver platter containing what appeared to be crystallized honey formed into elaborate shapes - flowers, geometric patterns, even tiny sculptures that caught the light like gems.
Ulric's eyes lit up with genuine delight as he examined the artistic offerings. His response was a complex trill of gratitude that somehow managed to sound both draconic and perfectly polite. When he began eating the crystallized honey sculptures, he did so with careful appreciation for the artistry involved, consuming each piece slowly as if savoring both flavor and craftsmanship.
"He has excellent manners for someone who grew up overnight," Lyra observed from a nearby table. The memory-worker had been studying Ulric's behavior with obvious fascination. "Most creatures that undergo rapid development show behavioral instability, but he's maintained perfect social awareness."
"Dragons mature differently than other magical creatures," Severan noted, consulting his ever-present notebook. "Cognitive development appears to parallel physical growth, suggesting integrated advancement rather than purely biological change."
"Or he was always this intelligent and just needed a body capable of expressing it," Sylas added quietly, his ancient-looking eyes meeting Ulric's across the table. For a moment, the two seemed to share some form of wordless communication that left Leizar feeling like he was missing something significant.
Their afternoon class, Interdimensional Politics and Relations with Master Aldwyn, proved to be the most challenging yet. When the discussion turned to diplomatic tensions between various realms, Leizar found himself wanting to correct several of the instructor's statements about court protocols and power structures.
"The relationship between the various Fae courts is necessarily complex," Master Aldwyn was explaining, "due to their fundamental differences in approach to magic and morality. The Summer Court values honor and direct action, while the Winter Court prizes subtlety and long-term planning."
"But what about the courts that exist between seasons?" Leizar asked, the question emerging from knowledge he didn't remember acquiring. "The transition courts that manage the boundaries between major powers?"
Master Aldwyn paused mid-sentence, his keen eyes focusing on Leizar with obvious surprise. "The... transition courts are not typically covered in first-year curriculum, Mr. Blackthorne. They're considered advanced political theory."
"I just... I thought I'd read something about them," Leizar said weakly, realizing he'd revealed knowledge he shouldn't possess. Around the classroom, other students were looking at him with mixture of curiosity and confusion.
"Indeed," Master Aldwyn replied, his tone suggesting he was mentally noting this exchange for later consideration. "The transition courts do exist, though their influence is subtle enough that most scholars overlook them entirely. They serve as... diplomatic buffers, you might say, managing relationships between courts that might otherwise be in constant conflict."
Ulric made a soft sound that might have been agreement, his ancient eyes fixed on Master Aldwyn with obvious interest. The dragon's attention seemed to sharpen whenever the discussion touched on political structures and power relationships, as if he was evaluating information rather than simply learning it.
The remainder of the class passed with Leizar trying to avoid further displays of inexplicable knowledge, but he could feel Master Aldwyn's attention on him throughout the lesson. By the time they were dismissed, he was certain his name would be appearing in several faculty discussions by day's end.
As they made their way toward the training halls for Weapons and Combat, WindRaven fell into step beside Leizar while Ulric walked carefully behind them, his massive form requiring constant attention to doorway clearances and corridor width.
"Where is this knowledge coming from?" WindRaven asked quietly. "You're demonstrating understanding of things that aren't in any of our textbooks."
"I don't know," Leizar replied honestly. "It feels like remembering, but I know I've never learned these things. The information is just... there when I need it."
"Memory inheritance," Sylas suggested from behind them. "Sometimes bloodlines carry knowledge across generations. Information that becomes accessible under specific circumstances."
"What kind of circumstances?" Raelith asked, though his emerald eyes suggested he might already suspect.
"Magical awakening. Trauma. Proximity to artifacts or locations that trigger ancestral memories." Sylas paused, his gaze flicking meaningfully toward Leizar. "Or the gradual failure of memory suppression techniques."
The words hit like a physical blow. Leizar had been assuming Pendacore's tonic was simply helping him manage anxiety and shadow-magic fluctuations. But what if it had been doing more than that? What if it had been suppressing memories and knowledge that were now surfacing as its effects wore off?
Ulric made a complex series of chirps that sounded almost conversational, as if he was commenting on their discussion. When they all looked at him, the dragon's ancient eyes held depths of understanding that seemed to confirm their suspicions.
Before Weapons and Combat, they had one more class that would prove even more revealing than the morning's lessons. Ancient History and Theological Studies with Master Vivienne was held in one of the Academy's oldest classrooms, where stone walls were carved with protective symbols that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
Master Vivienne was a stern woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes like polished steel, known throughout the Academy for her encyclopedic knowledge of pre-Cataclysm history. She took one look at Ulric - who had to fold his wings completely and lower his head to fit through the ancient doorway - and raised an eyebrow but made no comment.
"Today we discuss the Fall of the Gods and the establishment of Lumina as the dominant religious structure," she announced, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had studied these events for decades. "Can anyone tell me what precipitated the collapse of the old pantheon?"
Several hands rose tentatively, but Master Vivienne's sharp gaze fell on Severan. "Mr. Severan?"
"The Trinity Wars," Severan replied promptly, consulting his notes. "Statistical analysis indicates systematic destabilization of divine power structures through coordinated supernatural conflict."
"Correct, though somewhat clinical in your assessment," Master Vivienne replied with a slight smile. "The Trinity Wars were indeed the catalyst, but the underlying causes were far more complex than simple conflict."
She moved to the front of the classroom, her presence commanding absolute attention. Even Ulric seemed to settle into focused listening, his ancient eyes fixed on the instructor with obvious interest.
"The Trinity consisted of three forces of unimaginable power," Master Vivienne continued, "each representing a fundamental aspect of existence. Telaria, embodiment of Order and the natural world. Apocalyptica, manifestation of Chaos and transformation. And between them..." She paused dramatically. "Aldorian, King of the Elder Dragons, master of Balance and guardian of the spaces between extremes."
The moment she spoke Aldorian's name, Ulric's entire demeanor changed. The dragon's head snapped up with such sudden intensity that several students turned to stare. His starlight eyes blazed with recognition, and he made a sound unlike anything they'd heard from him before - not quite a roar, not quite a song, but something that carried harmonics of joy, reverence, and desperate longing all at once.
The sound filled the ancient classroom with resonances that made the protective symbols carved into the walls begin to glow more brightly, responding to whatever power Ulric had unconsciously channeled in that moment of recognition.
Master Vivienne stopped mid-sentence, her steel-gray eyes fixing on Ulric with sudden, sharp attention. "Fascinating," she murmured, studying the dragon with the intensity of a scholar who had just discovered something unprecedented. "That was... quite a reaction."
WindRaven reached up to stroke Ulric's neck, trying to calm the obviously agitated dragon. "He's never done that before," he said apologetically. "I don't know what—"
"Elder Dragon response to ancestral naming patterns," Master Vivienne interrupted, her voice carrying new weight. "In forty years of teaching, I have never witnessed such a reaction to historical content." Her gaze moved from Ulric to WindRaven with calculating precision. "Tell me, Mr. WindRaven, what exactly do you know about your dragon's lineage?"
"He's an Obsidian Drake," WindRaven replied uncertainly. "He hatched a few days ago, grew rapidly, but we haven't done any formal lineage testing..."
"Obsidian Drakes," Master Vivienne said slowly, "are not typically capable of recognizing Elder Dragon nomenclature with such... intensity." She moved closer to their table, her attention entirely focused on Ulric, who was still vibrating with barely contained excitement. "That level of response suggests direct bloodline connection to the Elder Dragon hierarchies."
Ulric made another complex sound, this one seeming almost like communication directed specifically at Master Vivienne. The professor's eyes widened with something that might have been shock.
"Did he just..." she began, then caught herself. "Mr. WindRaven, I think we need to have a much more detailed discussion about your dragon's origins after class."
"Is something wrong?" Leizar asked, though Ulric's obvious joy suggested the opposite.
"Wrong? No," Master Vivienne replied, her scholarly excitement beginning to override her professional composure. "But if my suspicions are correct, you may be bonded to something far more significant than a simple Obsidian Drake."
She returned to the front of the classroom, but her attention kept drifting back to Ulric throughout the remainder of the lesson. When she continued the discussion of the Trinity Wars, the dragon hung on every word with an intensity that suggested personal investment rather than academic interest.
"Aldorian's role in the conflict was unique," Master Vivienne explained, her voice taking on the cadence of someone recounting epic history. "While Telaria and Apocalyptica represented opposing forces locked in eternal struggle, Aldorian sought to maintain balance between them. The Elder Dragons served as his agents, working to prevent either Order or Chaos from achieving absolute dominance."
Ulric's eyes blazed with what could only be described as pride, and he made soft sounds of agreement that seemed entirely unconscious.
"But the balance could not hold indefinitely," Master Vivienne continued, casting meaningful glances at Ulric's reactions. "The war reached a crescendo when Telaria and Apocalyptica formed a temporary alliance against what they perceived as Aldorian's interference in their cosmic conflict."
This time Ulric's sound was one of distress, almost a whimper, as if the historical events were personally painful to him.
"The battle that followed shattered the foundations of divine power throughout the known realms," Master Vivienne said, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "Aldorian and his Elder Dragons fought valiantly, but they were overwhelmed by the combined might of absolute Order and absolute Chaos working in concert."
"What happened to them?" asked a student from the back of the classroom.
"Aldorian was... diminished. Reduced from cosmic force to myth and legend. The Elder Dragons were scattered across dimensions, their power broken, their king's voice silenced." Master Vivienne's gaze fixed on Ulric with unmistakable significance. "But legends persist that some bloodlines survived. That somewhere in the vast tapestry of existence, descendants of the Elder Dragons wait for the day when balance might be restored."
Ulric's response was a song - there was no other word for it. Complex harmonics filled the classroom, carrying such beauty and longing that several students began to weep without understanding why. The sound spoke of loss and hope and recognition, of power remembered and purpose unfulfilled.
When the song finally ended, the classroom sat in absolute silence. Master Vivienne was studying Ulric with the intensity of someone who had just witnessed something that would reshape her understanding of the world.
"Class dismissed," she said quietly, though her eyes never left the dragon. "Mr. WindRaven, Mr. Blackthorne, please remain behind. We have much to discuss."
As the other students filed out, many casting awed glances at Ulric, Master Vivienne approached their small group with obvious trepidation mixed with scholarly excitement.
"In all my years of studying the Elder Dragon histories," she said carefully, "I have read accounts of how they responded to their king's name, how they sang the songs of their lost glory. But I never expected to witness such a response from a creature supposedly hatched only days ago."
She paused, studying Ulric's magnificent form with new understanding. "Tell me truthfully - was he really hatched from an egg? Or did something far older and more significant choose to take physical form in your presence?"
WindRaven looked at his bonded companion, whose ancient starlight eyes held depths that seemed to stretch back through eons of history. "I... I honestly don't know anymore," he admitted. "Nothing about Ulric has been typical since the beginning."
"No," Master Vivienne agreed, "I imagine it hasn't been." She reached into her robes and withdrew a small crystal pendant, holding it toward Ulric. "This contains a fragment of Elder Dragon scale, passed down through scholarly traditions for centuries. If you are indeed what I suspect..."
Ulric's response was immediate. The pendant began to glow with inner fire the moment it came within range of his presence, pulsing with rhythms that matched the dragon's heartbeat. But more than that, Ulric himself began to emit a soft radiance, his obsidian scales reflecting light in patterns that spoke of power far beyond what any normal dragon should possess.
"Extraordinary," Master Vivienne breathed. "You're not just descended from Elder Dragon bloodlines. You ARE one. Somehow, impossibly, you're an Elder Dragon who has chosen to manifest in this time and place."
"But why?" Leizar asked, though something in his chest was already whispering the answer.
Master Vivienne's sharp gaze shifted to him with sudden understanding. "Perhaps because the time for balance to be restored is approaching. Perhaps because someone else connected to the ancient powers has begun to awaken." Her eyes narrowed as she studied Leizar with new intensity. "Tell me, Mr. Blackthorne, have you been experiencing any... unusual memories lately? Knowledge that seems to come from nowhere? Understanding of things you've never formally learned?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Leizar realized that Master Vivienne suspected far more than she was saying. Ulric made a soft sound that might have been encouragement or warning, his ancient eyes meeting Leizar's with obvious significance.
Whatever was happening to him, whatever knowledge was surfacing as Pendacore's tonic wore off, it was connected to forces and histories far older and more dangerous than he had imagined. And Ulric - magnificent, impossible Ulric - was here as both guardian and herald of changes that would reshape everything they thought they knew about their world.
It was during Weapons and Combat with Master Kaelen that everything changed.
The simple sword he'd purchased from Flandis felt heavier than usual in his hands as he faced Dale Hendricks across the practice circle. Dale had volunteered to spar with him, stepping forward with obvious confidence and something that might have been anticipation in his predatory eyes.
WindRaven sat with Ulric on the viewing benches, the dragon's attention fixed intently on the sparring match. There was something about Ulric's posture that spoke of readiness, as if he sensed potential danger even before it manifested.
"Begin," Master Kaelen called.
Dale came at him with unusual aggression, his blade work sharp and vicious. Within moments, Leizar found himself completely outmatched, his sword knocked from his hands as Dale's weapon found its mark across his cheek, drawing blood.
The moment Leizar saw his own blood gleaming on Dale's blade, something fundamental shifted inside him. His vision sharpened to inhuman clarity, every movement in the training hall slowing to crystal precision. From the benches, Ulric let out a sharp cry of alarm.
When Dale raised his blade for another strike, Leizar moved with fluid, devastating precision. The disarming technique was effortless and complete - Dale's sword flew from his grip to embed itself point-first in the wooden wall twenty feet away.
The training hall had gone completely silent. WindRaven was on his feet, Ulric spread his wings in agitation, sensing the change in magical atmosphere that the humans had missed.
Dale's face twisted with rage as he stalked toward the wall to retrieve his weapon. "Lucky shot. Let's see you do that again."
Master Kaelen stepped forward, alarm clear on his weathered face. "That's enough. Class is dismissed."
"No," Dale snarled, yanking his sword free with violent force. "We're not done." This time when he attacked, it was with pure fury, seeking to hurt, to maim, to prove dominance through violence.
Leizar met the attack, his movements still carrying that inhuman precision. But with each exchange, something dark began to build inside him. The taste of his own blood, the sight of Dale's murderous intent, the memory of being humiliated - it all fed into something ancient and terrible that Pendacore's tonic had been holding in check.
His blade began to change. At first it was barely noticeable - a shimmer along the edge, like heat waves rising from sun-warmed metal. But as Dale pressed his attack with increasing brutality, the shimmer deepened into something else entirely. Dark energy began to radiate from the steel, wisps of shadow that moved independently of any light source.
From the benches, Ulric's distressed cries grew louder, the dragon's ancient instincts recognizing something beyond his ability to understand or influence.
"Stop this now!" Master Kaelen shouted, but his voice seemed distant compared to the rage building in Leizar's chest.
Dale's next strike came at his throat, clearly intended to do real damage. Leizar parried with casual ease, and when his shadow-wreathed blade made contact with Dale's weapon, there was a sound like thunder rolling through underground caverns. Dale's sword cracked along its length, hairline fractures spreading from the point of contact.
Then suddenly, the world drained of color. Everything around Leizar shifted to shades of grey and silver - the training hall, the students, even Dale's furious face became monochrome. Only his own blade retained any vibrancy, now gleaming with silver fire that hurt to look at directly.
The disorientation was immediate and overwhelming. Leizar staggered, shaking his head as if he could somehow restore his normal vision through will alone. The loss of color depth made judging distances nearly impossible, and he found himself backing away from Dale instinctively.
"What's wrong?" Dale taunted, seeing his opponent's confusion. "Not feeling so confident now?"
Dale saw his opportunity and took it like the coward he was. As Leizar turned, still disoriented and trying to process his altered vision, Dale struck from behind - a vicious diagonal slash aimed at Leizar's back.
Leizar stumbled forward, trying to avoid the blow, his footing uncertain on ground that now looked flat and shadowless to his grey-silver vision. His foot caught something - a training dummy's base, a scattered practice sword - and he fell.
But instead of hitting the wooden floor, Leizar fell into Dale's shadow. And disappeared.
The training hall erupted into chaos. Students screamed, some ran for the doors, others pressed against the walls as far from Dale as they could get. WindRaven was shouting Leizar's name while Ulric's anguished cries filled the space with harmonics of pure distress.
Dale himself had gone completely rigid. His body locked in place mid-strike, his sword still raised, his eyes wide with terror as he stared down at his own shadow - which now writhed and moved independently of his body, darker and more substantial than any shadow had a right to be.
He tried to move, tried to lower his weapon, tried to speak. Nothing worked. Something was holding him from within his own shadow, and Dale Hendricks discovered what true fear felt like.
The shadow beneath Dale's feet began to rise like dark water, and from its depths, Leizar emerged. But this was not the confused, disoriented boy who had fallen moments before. This was something else entirely.
Leizar's eyes had gone completely black, darker than midnight, with only the faintest glimmer of red deep within their depths. When he smiled at Dale's frozen form, his expression held a hunger that was utterly inhuman.
"Your fear," he said, his voice carrying harmonics that made the air itself shiver, "tastes so very sweet."
Dale's terror spiked, and Leizar breathed it in like fine wine. The red gleam in his dark eyes grew brighter.
WindRaven, still clutching the distressed Ulric to his chest, managed to stutter out a whispered question. "Leizar? Is that... is that still you?"
Those terrible dark eyes turned toward WindRaven and Ulric, and for a moment the red gleam flared brighter. Then, with visible effort, Leizar's expression softened slightly.
"WindRaven," he said, his voice still carrying those inhuman harmonics but with warmth underneath. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. Or Ulric. Never you."
Ulric chirped softly, a sound of recognition and relief that somehow conveyed trust despite the terrifying transformation he was witnessing.
Master Kaelen, frozen in his own horror, managed to stutter out an order to the nearest student. "G-go get Master Pendacore. Now!"
But Leizar paid no attention to the fleeing student. He was focused on Dale, who remained locked in place by forces beyond his comprehension.
"You wanted to hurt me," Leizar continued, circling Dale like a predator studying wounded prey. "You wanted to draw my blood, to prove your dominance through violence. How does it feel now, knowing what I truly am?"
With a gesture that was both casual and terrifying, Leizar commanded Dale's shadow to move independently. The dark shape on the floor writhed and stretched, reaching toward Dale's fallen sword with tendrils of pure darkness.
Dale's shadow lifted the blade - his own weapon - and brought it slowly to his throat. The steel pressed against his skin just hard enough to dimple the flesh without quite breaking it.
"Please," Dale managed to whisper, the first word he'd been able to speak since becoming trapped.
"Please?" Leizar tilted his head, considering. "You didn't extend such courtesies to me."
The training hall doors burst open, and Master Pendacore strode in with someone else behind him - a figure none of them had seen before at the Academy. The stranger wore brilliant yellow-gold robes that seemed to capture and amplify the light, and when he moved, it was with a precision that suggested absolute control over every muscle, every breath, every gesture.
But most unsettling of all - in the bright afternoon light streaming through the training hall windows, this man cast no shadow at all.
"Leizar," Pendacore said carefully. "Step away from the other student."
Those terrible dark eyes turned toward the instructors, and for a moment, the red gleam within them flared brighter.
"And why," Leizar asked in that harmonic voice, "should I do that?"
The shadowless man in gold robes moved with inhuman speed as Leizar's body suddenly crumpled. He caught the boy before he could hit the training hall floor, his sapphire eyes studying the unconscious face with intensity that made the air around them shimmer. Where he stood holding Leizar, the absence of his shadow was even more pronounced - as if the very concept of darkness refused to acknowledge his existence.
WindRaven rushed forward, Ulric moving protectively beside him despite his massive size. "Is he all right? What happened to him?"
"This boy," the stranger said quietly, his voice carrying harmonics that made the air itself seem to resonate, "has touched something far beyond what any student should encounter." He looked up at Pendacore with grim understanding. "We need to speak. Immediately."
Together, they carried Leizar from the chaos of the training hall toward the medical wing, WindRaven following closely with Ulric walking beside them, the massive dragon's distressed humming providing a counterpoint to the whispered conversations and frightened speculation that filled their wake.
When Leizar woke, he was lying on a narrow cot in the Academy's medical wing, his head pounding and his mouth tasting of copper and bitter herbs. The school nurse was checking his pulse with obvious concern, while WindRaven sat in a chair beside the bed with Ulric's massive form curled protectively on the floor nearby.
Everything was grey and silver. The nurse's face, her white cap, even the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows - all of it rendered in shades of grey that made the world feel distant and strange.
"Easy now," the nurse said as he tried to sit up. "You had quite a spell there. Master Pendacore brought you in after you collapsed during combat training."
"Collapsed?" Leizar pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to remember. The last clear memory he had was struggling against Dale's attacks, feeling clumsy and outmatched. Everything after that was a haze of confusion and disorientation. "What happened? And why can't I see colors?"
WindRaven leaned forward, Ulric chirping softly with concern. "There was an incident with Dale. You... changed. Became something else for a few minutes. Then you just collapsed."
"Changed how?" But even as he asked, Leizar could feel the difference. Something fundamental had shifted inside him during those lost moments, something that whispered of power and hunger and the sweet taste of fear.
The nurse handed him a revised class schedule. "Master Pendacore asked me to give you this. There have been some adjustments made to your curriculum."
Weapons and Combat had been permanently removed.
"For your health," she explained. "Physical exertion seems to trigger these episodes. You'll have independent study during that time period instead."
As they made their way back to their dormitory later that afternoon, WindRaven stayed close to Leizar's side while Ulric maintained his protective vigil from his perch on WindRaven's shoulder. Other students gave them a wide berth, whispering and making warding gestures when they thought they weren't being observed.
"Everyone's afraid of me again," Leizar observed, his grey-silver vision making the worried faces around them appear ghostlike and distant.
"Not everyone," WindRaven replied firmly. "Ulric isn't afraid. I'm not afraid. Raelith and Sylas aren't afraid. The people who matter aren't afraid."
Ulric chirped agreement, his ancient eyes meeting Leizar's with unwavering trust and affection.
"But something did happen," Leizar said quietly as they reached their dormitory room. "I can feel it. Something inside me changed during those moments I can't remember."
"Then we'll figure out what it was," WindRaven said with the kind of certainty that only came from absolute loyalty. "Whatever it is, whatever you've become, we'll face it together."
Ulric's answering trill seemed to echo the sentiment, a sound of solidarity that spoke of bonds deeper than mere friendship. Whatever darkness had awakened in Leizar, whatever power he'd touched in those lost moments, he wouldn't face it alone.
The dragon settled on the floor near the fireplace with his usual grace, his massive form filling much of the available space, but his starlight eyes remained fixed on Leizar with protective intensity. Some instinct told him that the worst was yet to come, but also that his strange, growing family would weather whatever storms awaited them.
The dinner bell's chime echoed through the Academy's corridors with its familiar, comforting tone. Despite everything that had happened that day, despite the whispers that followed them through the halls and the frightened glances from other students, life at the Academy continued with its reassuring routines.
"Come on," WindRaven said gently, helping Leizar to his feet. "We should eat. You need to keep your strength up."
Ulric stretched his massive form and followed them out of the dormitory, his presence clearing a path through the corridors as other students pressed against the walls to give the horse-sized dragon room to pass. His amber eyes remained alert, scanning for threats with protective intensity.
Thalawen perched on Leizar's shoulder with her characteristic grace, the jet-black cat's yellow eyes taking in their surroundings with feline wariness. She had grown more protective since Ulric's arrival, as if the dragon's presence had awakened deeper instincts in the little creature.
The Great Hall buzzed with subdued conversation as they entered. Word of the incident in the training hall had spread, as word always did in a place like the Academy. Students glanced at them with mixtures of fear, curiosity, and in some cases, sympathy. But the whispers died to silence as they took their seats at their usual table.
Leizar barely tasted his food, everything rendered in shades of grey and silver by his altered vision. The roasted chicken looked like ash, the vegetables like shadows, even the golden bread appearing as merely another shade of grey. But he ate mechanically, aware that his friends were watching him with concern.
"How are you feeling?" Raelith asked quietly, cutting his meat with precise movements.
"Different," Leizar replied honestly. "Like something inside me has been... rearranged. Not broken, just... changed."
"The shadow-walking," Sylas said softly, his seafoam eyes thoughtful. "It left a mark on you. I can see it."
"What kind of mark?" WindRaven asked, immediately protective.
"Not harmful," Sylas assured him quickly. "Just... deeper. Like he's more connected to something than he was before."
Severan, ever analytical, leaned forward with interest. "Statistical observation suggests the incident has enhanced certain latent abilities while simultaneously creating new vulnerabilities. The probability matrix has shifted significantly."
"In normal words, Severan," Raelith said with tired affection.
"He's more powerful, but also more at risk," Severan translated. "And whatever happened in that shadow realm, it's not finished with him."
As if summoned by their conversation, a figure appeared at their table. Tall, imposing, wearing brilliant yellow-gold robes that seemed to capture and amplify the candlelight from the hall's chandeliers. His presence was immediately noticeable - not just because of his striking appearance, but because of something deeper, something that made the air around him seem to thrum with barely contained energy.
Most unsettling of all, in the bright light of the Great Hall's torches and candles, this man cast no shadow whatsoever.
His eyes were the most remarkable feature - deep sapphire blue that seemed to hold depths of knowledge and experience that belonged to someone far older than his apparent years. When he looked at them, Leizar felt as if those eyes were cataloging every detail, seeing through every surface pretense to the truths beneath.
"My boys," the stranger said, his voice carrying harmonics that made the candle flames flicker in response. There was something in his tone - not quite familiar, but not entirely foreign either. As if he knew them far better than they knew him.
The conversation in the Great Hall seemed to quiet around them, other students turning to stare at this unexpected visitor. Faculty members at the high table were watching with expressions of surprise and something that might have been concern.
"A word, if you please," the man continued, his sapphire gaze moving from face to face with calculated precision. But when his eyes settled on Leizar, they lingered there with an intensity that made the boy's skin prickle with recognition of something he couldn't name.
Ulric, who had been resting peacefully beside their table, suddenly lifted his massive head. The dragon's amber eyes fixed on the stranger with an expression of... not quite recognition, but something deeper. Unease. Ancient memory stirring in ways that transcended normal understanding.
On Leizar's shoulder, Thalawen's fur began to stand on end. The little black cat's yellow eyes were fixed on the shadowless man with the kind of primal wariness that spoke of recognizing a predator far beyond normal comprehension. She pressed closer to Leizar's neck, her purr replaced by the softest growl of warning.