Patterns of Friction

Cael Mavros never trusted quiet nights.

The Academy hummed with unseen forces, magic woven into every stone and whisper of wind, but tonight, the air felt heavier. He had spent years avoiding notice, drifting through the currents of Aetheris like a forgotten leaf. Yet something had changed.

Someone was watching.

He walked the dimly lit corridors, his steps slow and deliberate. The Grand Library's entrance loomed ahead, its gilded doors etched with ancient sigils. Knowledge was power, and in a world where magic dictated fate, forbidden knowledge was the sharpest weapon of all.

Cael wasn't seeking a weapon.

He was seeking an answer.

Lirienne Valis stood atop the western balcony, the silver glow of her magic casting shifting shadows against the marble railings. She had felt the shift in the air too.

Ever since their conversation in the courtyard, something gnawed at her—a tension in the fabric of fate, as though an unseen thread had been plucked.

And the center of it all was Cael Mavros.

Lirienne had spent enough time studying people to know when someone was hiding in plain sight. Cael wasn't merely unnoticed; he had mastered the art of being unseen. But why?

A chill ran down her spine. She had a sinking feeling that she was about to find out.

Deep within the Grand Library, past the towering shelves and shifting staircases, Cael traced his fingers along the spine of an unmarked book.

A thin layer of dust clung to its surface—left untouched for years, maybe decades. He pulled it free, the weight of it unfamiliar, unsettling.

The moment he opened it, the world around him changed.

Magic surged through the air, an invisible pulse that resonated through his bones. The ink on the pages twisted and swirled, reforming itself into words that should not exist.

Abstract magic is an anomaly. It must not be allowed to fester.

His breath hitched.

That phrase again. The same words he had seen in a forgotten parchment, buried in the archives of the Academy.

Cael's mind raced. The Academy never spoke of Abstract magic—never acknowledged it beyond hushed warnings. Primal and Spiritual magics shaped the world, yet Abstract magic… it was feared. Erased.

Why?

A soft shuffle of footsteps snapped him back to the present.

He wasn't alone.

Lirienne moved soundlessly through the shadows, her celestial energy dimmed to avoid detection. She had followed her instincts, and they had led her here—to Cael, standing frozen before an open book.

She didn't need to see the words to know they were dangerous.

"Looking for something?" she asked, stepping forward.

Cael's fingers tensed against the book's spine, but he didn't turn.

"I could ask you the same."

Lirienne arched an eyebrow. "I don't make a habit of sneaking into restricted sections."

He finally turned to face her, expression unreadable. "Then you're missing out."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Cael, what is this?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, he spoke.

"The reason I stay invisible."

The weight behind his words sent a shiver through her.

Before she could respond, the atmosphere shifted.

The torches lining the walls flickered, and an unnatural silence fell over the library. A presence—cold, deliberate—pressed down on them.

They weren't alone.

Lirienne's pulse quickened. "We need to leave. Now."

Cael didn't argue. He snapped the book shut, tucking it under his arm as they backed toward the exit.

A whisper curled through the air, threading itself into their bones. A voice, ancient and knowing.

You were never meant to see.

The sigils on the library doors ignited, locking them inside.

Lirienne cursed. "That's not good."

Cael exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the room. "No. It's really not."

The shadows deepened. And something—no, someone—began to stir within them.

The game had changed.

And Cael Mavros had finally been noticed.