The morning air in Haven carried a sharp bite, the scent of dew blending with the faint him of residual mana from overnight training. Fin moved through the western spire's stone corridors, his boots echoing softly against the polished floor. Sconces flickered above in glass orbs, their bluish glow creating pools of light that seemed to chase away the shadows only to create new ones. Each orb pulsed with stored mana.

Yesterday's encounter, the mud construct wearing Rebecca's face, its collapse into sludge, lingered like a bad taste. The memory made him push Electromagnetic Synchronization to its limits, it scanned every shadow for threats, tendrils of his awareness brushing against mana signatures around him like invisible fingers testing the air currents.

The halls were quiet this early, student mana signatures flickering like distant stars as they slept or meditated in their quarters. Some burned brighter than others. Fin's own nerves stayed taut. The advancement still felt new, like wearing boots a size too large. His core would occasionally surge with excess power, making his skin tingle with unspent energy.

Instructor Mara's office hid at the end of a narrow hallway lined with aged tapestries depicting The First Mage War. Historical figures woven in gold and silver thread seemed to watch him pass, their eyes following his progress. The oak door at the end was plain compared to the ornate surroundings, no runes, no engravings, just solid, aged wood.

Fin knocked twice, the sound crisp in the morning stillness.

"Enter, Aodh," Mara's voice called from within.

He stepped inside, the door creaking shut behind him with a soft click of magical locks engaging. The room was a paradox, spartan yet cluttered, like a battlefield after the armies had gone but their equipment remained. Shelves groaned with scrolls, tomes, and oddities that defied easy categorization: a crystal orb that shimmered with faint internal light, shifting between colors as if indecisive; a dagger with a serpentine hilt whose eyes seemed to follow movement; a stone emitting a low hum that made Fin's teeth vibrate at a frequency just below hearing.

Mara sat behind a desk strewn with parchments covered in notations too complex for Fin to decipher at a glance, formulas for high-tier mana manipulation, if he had to guess. Her youthful face was a mask of ageless authority, dark eyes locking onto his with the intensity of a predator tracking prey. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, not a strand out of place despite the early hour.

"Sit," she said, pointing to a wooden chair positioned precisely before her desk. Her tone brooked no hesitation, the kind that made even senior students snap to attention. The chair looked uncomfortable by design, slightly too small, with a back that forced perfect posture.

Fin settled into it, hands resting on his knees to keep from fidgeting. He organized his thoughts, selecting words carefully for maximum efficiency.

"About yesterday," he started, voice steady despite the unease coiling in his gut like a serpent ready to strike. "The construct…"

Mara raised a hand, cutting him off. "I know what you're going to ask, and yes, we've investigated." She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin, elbows resting on the armrests of her chair. "Rebecca's safe. We found her tied up in her dorm, gagged but unharmed. She's shaken but will recover. The construct used her likeness but didn't target her beyond that."

Fin exhaled, relief loosening a knot in his chest that he hadn't realized was there. "Good. She didn't deserve to be dragged into... whatever that was." His mind flicked to the bow, stored in his Dimensional Pocket Realm, a silent question mark hovering between them. "Any idea who sent it?"

Mara's eyes narrowed, assessing him like a blade testing a whetstone, searching for weaknesses, measuring worth. She drummed her fingers once on the desk, and the sound resonated with a faint pulse of mana that swept the room. A privacy ward, Fin realized. Whatever came next wasn't meant for casual eavesdroppers.

"No. The Skill was complex, Tier Four at minimum, possibly higher." She stood, moving to a map of Haven on the wall, tapping certain locations with a fingertip that left brief glowing marks. "Golem crafting that precise is rare, even among Haven's faculty. The material composition was ordinary clay and river mud, but the binding matrix..." She trailed off, her brow furrowing.

She turned back to him, eyes sharp. "I've asked a colleague to dig deeper, but don't expect quick answers. Whoever did this knew how to hide their tracks. The mana signature dissipated too quickly for tracking."

Fin nodded, his thoughts racing like leaves caught in a whirlwind. The golem's knowledge of his core, its calculated mimicry of Rebecca, pointed to a deliberate move rather than random malice. His leap to Tier Two, someone was watching, and not idly. Perhaps his rapid advancement had drawn attention, marked him as either threat or opportunity. "They knew too much," he said, voice low, almost a whisper. "My core, my progress. That wasn't a random attack."

"You're not wrong," Mara said, her tone clipped as she returned to her seat. "But chasing shadows without evidence is a fool's game. Focus on what you can control, your skills, your vigilance."

"Speaking of which..." She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, her gaze pinning him like a specimen about to be dissected. "Your cloaking skill. You promised an explanation when I got you out of that ceremony. I'm waiting."

"It's about blending with the environment," he began, focusing on the technical aspects. "I focus on the mana around me, every signature, every ripple in the ambient field. Then I adjust the mana leaking from me and that I gather to match the patterns, like a shadow merging with a storm. It's not hiding, exactly, it's becoming part of the background noise, unnoticeable unless someone is specifically looking for anomalies."

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Mara's brow furrowed, her fingers interlacing as she processed his words. The room fell silent save for the faint hum of the stone on her shelf. Outside, the distant calls of students heading to morning training drifted through the thick window glass. She tilted her head, then let out a soft grunt that might have been frustration or interest, with Mara, it was often impossible to tell.

"Aodh, that's... obtuse. I don't follow your storm-shadow nonsense. Simplify it, like you're explaining to a First Year who's just realized mana exists." Her bluntness caught him off guard, but there was no heat in her words, just a demand for clarity.

Fin's lips twitched, almost smiling despite himself. Mara, the terror of the training yard who could reduce other Instructors to stammering with a single raised eyebrow, admitting confusion was oddly humanizing. He took a breath, organizing his thoughts into simpler patterns.

"Alright. It's like a chameleon in a forest," he said, finding the analogy as he spoke. "I read the mana around me, then make the mana around me blend in, so it's just another tree in the grove. No one notices unless they already know I'm there and are specifically looking for me."

Mara shut her eyes, her face still as stone, as if diving into a meditative trance. The room fell silent, the hum of the stone artifact on her shelf the only sound breaking the stillness. Fin shifted, the quiet growing heavy with each passing second, his fingers itching to do something, tap the chair, adjust his cloak, anything to release the building tension. He glanced at the door, wondering if he should slip out, but Mara's voice cut through, sharp and low.

"Sit back down, Aodh."

He froze, half-risen, and sank back, feeling like he'd been caught sneaking contraband into the dormitories. Mara's eyes stayed closed, her breathing slow and measured, almost meditative. The silence stretched, each second thicker than the last, and Fin sat awkwardly, unsure whether to speak or maintain the silence. The shelves seemed to lean inward, the oddities watching with inscrutable interest.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, Mara's eyes snapped open, a rare smile softening her features. The expression transformed her face, making her look younger, almost like a student herself rather than the formidable instructor known throughout Haven.

"Thank you," she said, her voice warm with sincerity that startled him more than her sternness ever had. "That chameleon bit, it clicked. I've been stuck on my own cloaking skill for five years. You just helped me evolve it."

Fin's eyes widened, a dozen questions flooding his mind like a dam breaking. Mara, one of Haven's most respected instructors, taking inspiration from a student's technique? "Five years? How old are y…?" He caught himself as Mara's eyebrow arched, her expression a blend of amusement and warning that could stop a charging beast in its tracks. He pivoted quickly, redirecting. "I mean, what tier are you, if that's not too bold to ask?"

Mara shrugged, the gesture deceptively casual. "Higher than Tier Three, lower than Tier Nine. That's all you get." Her tone made it clear the topic was closed, a boundary even her momentary openness wouldn't allow him to cross.

"You're done here, Aodh. I scanned the academy, whatever made that golem is long gone. Stay sharp, keep that cloaking skill handy, and if you see anything unusual, report it immediately." She reached for a scroll. "I don't like mysteries in my academy. They tend to end with property damage and paperwork."

"Thanks, Instructor." He rose, mind buzzing with the exchange. As he reached the door, he glanced back, but Mara was already poring over a scroll, her focus absolute, their conversation clearly concluded.

The day blurred after that. Classes were a fog. His thoughts circle back to the golem, to the unseen watcher who knew enough about him to create such a targeted test. By evening, mind weary from constant vigilance, he sought refuge in the library's quiet alcove, tucked between the shelves of botanical reference texts rarely disturbed by other students. The scent of old parchment and binding glue was a reminder of simpler days when his greatest worry had been memorizing the periodic table.

He spread out a fresh sheet of parchment, quill dipping into ink the color of midnight, and began a letter home, the act grounding him in a world that felt increasingly unstable beneath his feet.

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope you are well. Haven's keeping me busy, but I've finally reached Tier Two. It's a lot to manage but I can finally level my skills again and evolve the ones that were stuck.

I do miss the Eastern Reaches, the storms always had a way of grounding me. I miss the training yard. And Mother, I miss your food, Haven's kitchen staff try, but they can't match your touch.

Father, how's the training going? Any of the guard catching your eye? Any I can take on?

I have also surprisingly made friends. Annie Shard and Ren. They are pretty much the only two students in the academy who don't annoy me.

I've also sketched a design for a cloaked tunic, hooded, with deep pockets. It'd help here. Could you ask a tailor in town to craft it? I've included measurements as I've grown considerably since advancement. I've also specified the feel and texture of fabric I am going for.

Your son,

Fin

He folded the letter carefully, attaching a detailed sketch of the hoodie. Sealing it with wax, he turned it over to the academy's courier system.

Dusk had fallen over Haven by the time Fin headed back to his dormitory, the spires casting long shadows across the courtyard like the fingers of giants reaching for the last light. Golden sconces began to flicker on throughout the grounds.

As he neared his door, he froze, it was cracked open, a sliver of light spilling into the hall where darkness should reign. His hand instinctively moved to his hip where his tanto used to reside, finding nothing but empty air.

Electromagnetic Synchronization flared like a beacon in his mind, sending invisible tendrils of awareness through the gap to scan the room beyond. Fin's breath hitched as the mana signature washed over him, warm and vibrant, with a metallic edge like a forge's heat, overlaid with the familiar rhythmic pulse he'd know anywhere. It was unmistakably familiar, a presence he'd grown up with, trained beside, argued with, and admired.

His heart surged, exhaustion forgotten, and he shoved the door open, rushing inside.

"Kilian!" Fin tackled his brother in a hug, arms wrapping around the broad figure who stood by his bed examining a half-finished runic project. Kilian laughed, a deep, resonant sound that filled the small room, and ruffled Fin's hair. Then, he lifted Fin slightly despite his recent growth spurt.

"Hey, little runt," Kilian said, grinning as he set Fin down. His brown hair was tousled from travel. "Tier Two already? You're making me look lazy."

Fin stepped back, a grin splitting his face. His brother was here, so that meant fun would follow. He could only hope that it would be enough to distract him from whatever was going on around him.

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