The classroom shattered into blinding white.
It wasn't a bomb. It was a flash-stone—a thief's tool.
A high-pitched crack echoed through the room, followed instantly by the hissing of released gas.
Smoke.
Thick, grey, heavy smoke rolled across the floorboards.
Sleep gas, I realized, my heart hammering. High grade.
"My eyes! I can't see!" "What's happening?"
Students were screaming, coughing, and stumbling over desks.
Don't breathe, I told myself. I pulled the collar of my tunic up over my nose and mouth, squinting through the tearing fog.
Close your eyes, Kaelen's voice whispered in my memory. The Blessed rely on the visual. You are the void.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I blocked out the panic. I reached out with my skin, feeling the shifts in the air pressure.
The window hadn't just been broken; someone had vaulted through it.
But there was no heavy thud of boots. There was no clanking armor.
There was just a ripple in the air. A displacement.
Something was moving through the classroom. Fast. Fluid. Silent.
It moved past the rows of desks without touching a single student.
I focused on the Intent.
I didn't feel bloodlust. I didn't feel the cold malice of a killer.
I felt... calculation. I felt a familiar, arrogant precision.
Kaelen.
My eyes snapped open.
He was here. The crazy elf had actually raided the school in broad daylight. Why was this guy here? Is here for the ether?
And he was using the class as a smoke screen. Literally.
But there was a problem.
A warm, frantic pulse of magic flared to my right.
Lyra.
Through the swirling grey fog, a beacon of golden light erupted. Lyra was on her knees in the aisle, hyperventilating. Her Acolyte Blessing was reacting to the sleep gas, trying to "Purify" the air around her. She was glowing like a lil sun.
If Kaelen was trying to be invisible, Lyra was basically holding up a giant sign that said, "LOOK OVER HERE!"
If she cleared the smoke, Kaelen would be exposed. He'd be seen by thirty students. He'd have to abort—or worse, he'd have to knock everyone out the hard way.
I have to help him, I realized. By helping her.
I launched myself from under the desk.
I stayed low, scrambling on all fours, keeping my head below the thickest layer of the gas. I hit Lyra hard, tackling her around the waist.
"Down!" I hissed.
We crashed to the floor behind a heavy lab table. Lyra let out a squeak of surprise, but I clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Don't fight it," I whispered into her ear, pressing her face into my chest to shield her from the fumes. "Hold your breath."
She looked up at me, her golden eyes wide and terrified. She was trembling. Her aura was still flickering, casting a soft light on my jawline.
"Turn it off," I ordered, my voice calm but firm. "Lyra, suppress the light. You're making yourself a target."
"I... I can't..." she stammered.
"Yes, you can. Look at me." I locked eyes with her. "Trust me."
She stared at me. Maybe it was the chaos, or maybe it was the fact that I was holding her close in the middle of a disaster, but she focused. She blushed furiously, and the golden light faded, leaving us hidden in the gloom.
"Good girl," I muttered.
I peered around the edge of the table.
The smoke was thick, but I saw Him.
Kaelen was a shadow within the shadow. He wore a simple hood, his face obscured by a cloth mask. He moved toward the teacher's desk where Halloway was coughing, clutching the heavy leather satchel.
Halloway tried to stand up. "Who... who is there?"
Kaelen didn't answer. He didn't even draw a weapon.
He simply stepped into Halloway's space. A quick, blur of a motion—a palm strike to the nerve cluster in the neck.
Halloway folded like a wet towel. He hit the floor, unconscious before he landed.
Kaelen reached for the bag.
But then, the door to the hallway slammed open.
"What is going on in there?" Principal Miller's booming voice echoed. "Guards! Secure the room!"
Two Town Guards in heavy chainmail stumbled into the smoke, coughing, their halberds swinging wildly.
Kaelen froze. He was blocked. If he grabbed the bag now, the Guards would see a hooded figure holding the contraband. He'd be identified as the thief.
He needed a distraction. Or he needed an accomplice.
I looked at the bag. It had slid across the floor when Halloway fell. It was closer to me than it was to Kaelen.
I looked at the hooded figure of my mentor. Even through the smoke, I could feel his frustration.
Don't do it, Adam. You're supposed to be a victim.
Yeah, I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips. But victims don't get extra credit.
"Stay here," I whispered to Lyra.
I grabbed a heavy textbook from the floor—Trade Routes of the Fourth Age.
"Over there!" I screamed, disguising my voice with a fake cough. I chucked the book toward the far window, away from Kaelen.
Clatter!
The Guards spun toward the noise. "Movement by the window!"
Kaelen didn't waste the split second. But he didn't go for the bag. He saw me. He saw my eyes locked on the satchel.
He gave a small nod. A transfer of responsibility.
He vanished. He stepped backward into the thickest plume of smoke and simply... disappeared. Shadow-Step.
I moved.
I didn't run. I slid. I dove across the floorboards, coasting on the slick wood.
I grabbed the strap of the satchel.
"Adam!" Lyra cried out, her voice filled with worry.
I scrambled back to her, hefting the heavy bag into my lap.
"I got it!" I yelled, pretending to be panicked. "We have to go!"
The Guards were busy hacking at the curtains near the window, looking for the phantom thief. The smoke was starting to clear near the floor.
"Move!" I grabbed Lyra's hand. "Back door! Go!"
We scrambled toward the rear exit of the classroom, keeping our heads down.
I kicked the back door open and we tumbled out into the hallway.
The fire alarm finally began to toll—a mournful, rhythmic clanging. Students were pouring out of other classrooms, confused and frightened.
"This way!" I pulled Lyra toward the maintenance stairwell. It was narrow, dark, and used only by the staff.
We practically fell down the stairs, skipping steps. The heavy bag of Ether banged against my hip with every step.
We burst out of the side exit and into the narrow alleyway behind the school.
The fresh air hit my lungs like a blessing.
I didn't stop. I dragged her down the alley, behind a row of refuse barrels, and finally collapsed against the brick wall of the shop next door.
My chest was heaving.
I looked at Lyra. Her dress was ruined, covered in dust and soot. Her face was streaked with tears.
"Are you okay?" I asked, gripping her shoulders.
She gasped, nodding. She looked at me—at the soot on my face, the protective way I was standing over her.
"You... you saved me," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to my hand, which was still holding hers. She didn't pull away.
"We need to get out of here," I said, my voice serious. "Those fumes... they'll knock you out if you stay too close."
"But Mr. Halloway..." she started.
"Is sleeping," I said quickly. "Whatever that was, it was sleeping gas. Everyone is fine."
I looked down at the leather satchel in my hand.
I opened the flap just an inch.
Inside, the violet glow of the Military Grade Ether pulsed softly.
I had it. I actually had it. Kaelen had set up the play, but I had scored the goal.
"Adam," Lyra said softly. She reached out and touched my cheek. "You're hurt."
I flinched. A splinter from the floorboards had cut my cheek during the slide. A small trickle of blood ran down my jaw.
"It's nothing," I said.
"Let me," she whispered.
She cupped my face with both hands. Her palms glowed with that warm, honey-gold light. The pain vanished instantly.
She was standing very close. She looked up at me with those large, golden eyes, full of adoration.
"Why?" she asked softly. "Why did you run back for the bag?"
I froze. I needed a lie. A good one.
I hefted the bag of high-grade explosives.
"Halloway said it was important," I lied smoothly, giving her my best crooked grin. "I figured if I saved his homework, maybe he'd give me an 'A' for the semester."
Lyra stared at me for a second, then let out a breathless, wet laugh. "You're crazy, Adam Reed."
"Maybe," I said.
I looked toward the woods. I knew Kaelen would be waiting at the Old Oak. And I really wanted to know what that dumb elf was thinking.
"Go home, Lyra," I said gently, stepping back. "Seriously. Get cleaned up. And... thanks for the heal."
"Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked, hope plain on her face.
I adjusted the strap of the bag.
"Count on it," I said.
I turned and sprinted toward the treeline, vanishing into the shadows before the Guards could round the corner.