Adrian's fingers tightened around the cool, polished crow spirit hilt as he offered Dr. Thorne assured polite nod of thanks. The scent of antiseptics and dried herbs clung to his clothes as he pushed open the heavy oak door of the academy's infirmary, stepping out into the late afternoon sun. The air was a crisp contrast to the sterile warmth he left behind. The hilt felt familiar and comforting beneath his thumb, the faint etched lines of crow's feathers a constant, tactile distraction as he started the walk toward the dorm building.
His mind was a turbulent sea. The thud of a falling book from a passing student's hand sent a sharp, inexplicable lance of pain through his chest, making him stumble. He paused, pressing a hand to his sternum, the hilt cold against his skin. 'Whose voice was that?' he wondered internally, the words "I am sorry," echoing in the hollow chambers of his memory, as clear as the nearby chimes of the academy bell tower. The voice was a ghost, a whisper from a past he couldn't access, and the simple sound of the thud had seemingly triggered a visceral ache of loss he couldn't name. Does he know her? The jumble of thoughts made the familiar path to the dorms feel alien.
Further ahead, Valerius stood with a small entourage of friends, their laughter loud and self-assured. They were basking in the afterglow of the first task, recounting every precise detail of their own performances. Valerius's gaze, sharp and assessing, landed on Adrian's approaching figure. A sneer touched his lips.
"Well, look who it is," Valerius commented, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "The academy's dark horse, walking around like he owns the place after that meager showing in the first task. Barely passed the threshold of competence, wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?"
His friends chuckled, but Adrian didn't break stride. He was too consumed by the phantom voice and the pain. He simply kept walking, his stride even and his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Valerius's face tightened, his ego bruised by the blatant dismissal. To be ignored was an insult he barely tolerated. He stepped into the Adrian's path, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of his collar, stopping him short.
"Did you not hear me, you pathetic little commoner?" Valerius hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Don't you dare ignore me. Yes, your little crow showed immense dark power back there- a surprising, savage burst of energy, I'll admit. But understand this: it dosen't scare me. Not one bit. I am Valerius, and I will always be supreme in everything this academy throws at us. You are a footnote. Now, acknowledge your betters."
Adrian finally looked up, his expression unreadable, the crow spirit hilt still clutched in his hand. The weight of the world, both conscious and unconcious, pressed down on him.
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The flickering mana-lamps of the dormitory hallway cast long, distorted shadows against the stone walls, framing a scene of public humiliation that had the entire floor standing in hushed, cruel anticipation. Valerius had Adrian pinned against the cold masonry, his hand curled like a vice around Adrian's frayed collar, lifting him just high enough that his heels barely grazed the floor. The disparity between them had never been more suffocating: Valerius, draped in the fine, enchanted silk of the Archon's lineage, looked every bit the heir of legend, while Adrian looked like the son of the soil he was. Adrian's left hand, pale and vibrating with an uncontrollable tremor, rose through the air, his fingers brushing against Valerius's golden-cuffed sleeve in desperate, grounding gesture. But beneath the sightline of the crowd, Adrian's right hand was a different story- it was white knuckled and steady, clenched with a silent, bone-deep intensity around the obsidian hilt of his summoning blade, the vessel for his crow spirit.
"Valerius...let go," Adrian gasped, his voice thin and wavering like a candle flame in a draft, yet there was a terrifying, quiet steel rooted in his eyes- the look of a boy who had already survived the worst the world could throw at him. "You've spent ten years trying to bury me under your father's shadow, but I'm not staying down. I've heard the call of the void. My crow...he isn't just scavenger, and I'm not just a commoner you can kick aside. I am going to be a legendary summoner, Valerius. I'm not going to stand on that pedestal, not because of a name, but because I have the strength to carry the weight you only pretend to have."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thrumming of power emanating from Adrian's hidden hilt. Then, Valerius's face contorted, not with anger, but with a sudden, explosive burst of ridicule. He threw his head back, letting out a jagged, cruel peal of laughter that echoed off the vaulted ceiling, and he whipped his gaze around to the circle of high-born students watching from their doorways, making sure they hadn't missed a single word of the "peasants" delusion.
"Did you all catch that?" Valerius barked, his eyes bright with a predatory glee as he shook Adrian by the collar for emphasis. "The stable boy has found his 'destiny'! He thinks a gutter-bird and a few years of picking up my scraps have prepared him to walk the path of the Archon! He thinks the Great Spirits look at a commoner and see anything other than a servant!" He turned back to Adrian, his grin sharpening into a blade of pure spite, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "Look at your hand, Adrian. It's shaking. You can't even touch me without trembling, yet you think you can command the heavens? You aren't a summoner, you are a mistake that I'm going to enjoy watching the Academy erase sooner or later."
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