Patterns of Friction

The morning light barely touched the towering spires of Aetheris Academy before the first echoes of clashing magic rang through its courtyards. The academy never truly slept. It only paused, like the inhale before an incantation, waiting to unleash its next burst of raw energy.

Cael Mavros knew this all too well.

He slipped through the maze of students, his footsteps silent against the marble floors. Conversations crackled in the air, boasting of late-night breakthroughs and upcoming duels. The scent of ink and parchment lingered alongside the ozone tang of residual magic.

To them, this was the world. To Cael, it was a gilded prison.

At the far end of the courtyard, another duel had begun. Cael barely spared it a glance. Predictability bored him. Every spell cast followed a pattern, and patterns led to inevitability. It wasn't a matter of who was stronger. It was a matter of who made the first mistake.

A mistake he had spent years ensuring he never made.

"Cael!"

The voice came from behind, and he recognized it before he turned. Lirienne Valis, her presence as steady as the stars she wielded. He sighed, debating whether to pretend he hadn't heard her.

Too late.

She fell into step beside him, radiant as always, her celestial magic pulsing faintly beneath her skin. Unlike most at the academy, she didn't treat power as a means of dominance. She saw it as responsibility—a perspective Cael found equally admirable and exhausting.

"You're going to be late," she said, her tone teasing but pointed.

"I'm always late," Cael replied.

Lirienne arched a brow. "Then why do I feel like today, of all days, you actually care?"

Cael hesitated. She was annoyingly perceptive. He had no answer that wouldn't lead to more questions, so he opted for silence.

That, of course, never worked with her.

She exhaled dramatically. "You know, for someone who doesn't care about status, you sure spend a lot of time avoiding attention."

Cael smirked. "You're mistaking survival for strategy."

"Is that what you call it?"

They reached the lecture hall, its arched entrance carved with runes that pulsed faintly as students entered. Inside, rows of stone benches formed a semicircle around the central podium, where Master Serevan, a man of sharp eyes and sharper words, was already pacing.

Cael took his usual seat in the back. Lirienne, ever the idealist, sat closer to the front.

"As I was saying," Serevan continued, "magic is a language. A structure of intent and execution. Those who believe power alone dictates success are doomed to be outmaneuvered by those who understand its patterns."

Cael resisted the urge to smirk. Finally, something he agreed with.

Serevan's gaze swept the room before settling, unexpectedly, on him.

"Cael Mavros."

A hush fell over the hall.

Cael kept his expression neutral. "Yes, Master Serevan?"

"What do you see when you look at magic?"

He knew a trap when he heard one. But he also knew an opportunity.

"I see inevitability."

The silence deepened. Even Lirienne turned to watch him, her eyes searching. Serevan tilted his head slightly. "Explain."

Cael leaned back, exuding a nonchalance he didn't quite feel. "Magic follows patterns. Every spell is a sequence, a structure built from predictable choices. Given enough observation, anyone can determine the outcome before it happens."

Serevan studied him, then gave a slow nod. "Fascinating. And yet, unpredictability is the foundation of innovation. If all magic is inevitable, how do you explain the existence of Abstract magic?"

A ripple of tension spread through the students. Abstract magic—the anomaly, the mistake, the untamed force that defied classification. It was a subject few dared to acknowledge, let alone discuss.

Cael felt the weight of the question pressing against his ribs.

"I don't."

A murmur spread through the room. Serevan, however, only smiled faintly. "An answer that is, in itself, an answer. We will continue this discussion next session."

The class was dismissed soon after, but the weight of the conversation lingered.

Lirienne caught up to him outside. "That was bold."

Cael sighed. "It was necessary."

Her gaze searched his face. "You knew he was testing you."

He nodded. "And I know he'll be watching me now."

For the first time in years, Cael Mavros had stepped into the light. And for the first time in years, he wasn't sure if he could slip back into the shadows.