The next day, I got up earlier than usual.

  Not for the sword.

  Not to run.

  Just to see.

  Elora's words had stayed in my head all night.

  Look more carefully at what happens before lessons.

  So that was what I was going to do.

  The palace was still half asleep when I left my room. The corridors were almost empty. A few lanterns were still burning beneath the arches. The air was cold. Clean. Quiet.

  I already knew the way to the core yard.

  I stopped before going in.

  The place was simple.

  A rectangle of white stone.

  Circles drawn on the ground.

  Three wooden targets against the back wall.

  A shallow basin on the side.

  Nothing sacred.

  Nothing impressive.

  Just a place made for learning.

  They were already there.

  Not the whole class.

  Just a small group.

  Four students.

  Two guards.

  Master Oren.

  So that was another thing I had never really understood: this morning training was not for the whole room. Only for the students Oren was already training with their core before lessons.

  I had always been told lessons began with the bell. For them, they had begun long before that. For me, they had never begun at all.

  Kian stood in the middle of the yard, straighter than the others. Even here, even this early in the morning, he looked like the place had been built for him.

  Master Oren had his hands in his sleeves, as always.

  "Again," he said.

  A boy I recognized by sight stepped into one of the circles drawn on the ground. He closed his eyes, took a breath, then moved.

  Not for long.

  Not enough to impress an entire palace.

  But enough for the difference to show.

  His start was sharper.

  His footing was cleaner.

  His body seemed lighter for a few seconds.

  When he stopped, he was already breathing harder.

  Oren nodded once.

  "Good. Not long. But clean."

  Then he called on a girl standing near the basin.

  She raised one hand over the water and stayed still.

  At first, I saw nothing.

  Then the surface of the basin moved.

  Not like someone had struck it.

  Not like something had fallen into it.

  Just a light push.

  Enough to ripple the water.

  "Better," Oren said. "No more."

  She lowered her hand at once.

  I stayed hidden behind the arch.

  So that was it.

  No miracle.

  No great spectacle.

  Just breath.

  Control.

  Work.

  Oren continued:

  "Remember this well. The core is in the chest. Breath puts power into motion. If you keep that power inside your body, you strengthen your body. If you let it leave your body, it acts on whatever it touches."

  He let a second pass.

  "If you can't hold your breath steady, you can't hold your core steady. And if you can't hold your core steady, you lose either strength or control."

  This time, even I understood.

  Core in the chest.

  Breath.

  Power that stays inside.

  Or power that comes out.

  Simple.

  Kian stepped forward when Oren looked at him.

  He didn't need to be called twice.

  "Reinforcement," Oren said.

  Kian took one breath.

  Then he moved.

  I saw the difference at once.

  Not because he was moving much faster.

  Because everything became cleaner in him.

  His steps.

  His footing.

  His posture.

  He crossed the yard in a few seconds, stopped in front of a target, then struck it with his palm.

  The wood cracked sharply.

  The target moved hard on its stand.

  "Again," Oren said.

  Kian stepped back, took another breath, then this time placed his hand against the center of the target without striking it.

  The wood stayed still.

  Then the painted circle in the middle began to heat up.

  The center darkened, as if the heat were rising from inside it.

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  That was Solis power. Fire, but white. A clear, clean, controlled heat.

  Kian pulled his hand back.

  Oren nodded.

  "Better."

  I felt my jaw tighten.

  He was learning both.

  The body.

  The core.

  I had been given one.

  And kept away from the other.

  For the first time, the exclusion stopped feeling vague. It had a shape now. A schedule. A gate. A teacher standing inside it.

  "You're looking more carefully now?"

  I turned so fast that my sleeve caught on the stone.

  Elora stood in the shadow of the corridor, a book tucked under her arm.

  I hadn't even heard her steps.

  "Do you do that on purpose?" I whispered.

  "A little."

  She looked past my shoulder toward the yard.

  "So?"

  I looked back at the group.

  "You already knew all this?" I asked.

  "Not all of it."

  "But enough to send me here."

  "Yes."

  "You train here too?"

  "No."

  I turned toward her.

  "No?"

  "I know this place exists. I know who comes early. I know what Oren works on here. That doesn't mean I'm part of it."

  She looked back at the yard.

  "I watch. You get kept out."

  I said nothing.

  Because she had said it too simply.

  And because it was true.

  "In this wing," she went on more quietly, "the children raised near the throne are expected to learn how to use their core sooner or later. You're the one they keep at the edge."

  I kept my eyes on Kian.

  "You could have told me more clearly."

  "Would you still have come?"

  I didn't answer.

  She didn't need me to.

  We stayed side by side without stepping into the yard.

  Oren kept repeating the same instructions.

  Breathing.

  Anchoring.

  Control.

  Always the same basics.

  And the longer I watched, the clearer one thing became:

  even the ones who were bad at it followed the same logic.

  Even the ones who hesitated.

  Even the ones who lacked strength.

  They stayed inside that logic.

  I didn't.

  I didn't even know where to begin.

  Elora must have seen something closing off on my face, because she spoke again.

  "You're making that face again."

  "What face?"

  "The one where you already hate something before you've even tried it."

  I turned a little toward her.

  "You're tiring."

  "I know."

  The corner of her mouth moved slightly.

  Then a small voice came from behind us.

  "What are you doing?"

  I stiffened.

  Elora only lifted her eyes.

  Eira stood at the entrance of the corridor, still half messy. She looked at us as if we were obviously doing something forbidden.

  "Nothing," I said.

  "That's false," she said at once.

  She slipped between us without permission, looked at the yard, then lifted her eyes to me.

  "Oh."

  "Oh what?" I asked.

  "You're watching the thing they don't let you do."

  Elora turned her head toward her.

  "Is she always like this?"

  "Worse," I said.

  "I heard that."

  "That was the point."

  In the yard, Oren finished the exercise and dismissed the students. The group spread out. Kian was the last to leave. He exchanged a few words with Oren, then left the yard without looking toward our corridor.

  I didn't know if that was better.

  Or worse.

  Eira tilted her head slightly toward me.

  "You wanted to try?"

  I looked at the empty yard.

  Then at my hands.

  Then at the yard again.

  "I don't know."

  That was true.

  I wanted to.

  And I didn't.

  Elora answered for me.

  "You do."

  I shot her a look.

  "You don't know that."

  "Yes, I do."

  She looked at the rectangle of white stone.

  "Otherwise you wouldn't have come."

  Neither she nor Eira spoke like the other people in the palace.

  No pity.

  No contempt.

  Just facts.

  I hated that a little.

  Because it left me with fewer places to hide.

  The bell for the start of lessons rang in the distance.

  Eira jumped.

  "We're going to be late."

  "You are," I said.

  "You too."

  Elora put a light hand between Eira's shoulder blades and pushed her toward the corridor.

  "Go. You're slowing us down."

  "He's the one slowing everyone down," Eira said.

  Then she ran off before I could answer.

  I watched her disappear.

  Elora let out a soft breath.

  "She's right."

  "Are you trying to become unbearable, or is it natural?"

  "Natural."

  We went back to the classrooms.

  But this time, something had changed.

  Not because I understood everything.

  Because I could no longer pretend I had seen nothing.

  The rest of the morning passed slowly.

  Too slowly.

  I barely heard any of the lessons. Oren's words kept coming back again and again.

  The core is in the chest. Breath puts power into motion.

  I had never really tried.

  Not like them.

  And now that I had seen Kian do it, the emptiness around that part of my life felt even bigger.

  At midday, Eira found me before I had even left my seat.

  "Come."

  "No."

  "Bad answer."

  "You use that on everyone?"

  "Yes."

  She grabbed my free hand.

  Elora was already waiting in the corridor, leaning against a column, her closed book under her arm.

  I stopped at once.

  "No."

  Elora raised an eyebrow.

  "No what?"

  "You both have that look."

  "What look?" Eira asked.

  "The look people get when they've already decided something for me."

  Elora pushed herself off the column.

  "Not for you."

  "Then for what?"

  "To see if your core really responds."

  I frowned.

  Eira nodded as if that made perfect sense.

  "Just a little."

  "That's a very bad idea," I said.

  "Yes," Elora said.

  "Then why—"

  "Because you're not going to keep watching the others do it in your place much longer."

  I stayed silent.

  Then Eira added more softly:

  "And if you really want to know, better with us."

  That cut the rest off at once.

  I hated that she had found the right line.

  We didn't go to the main core yard.

  Too visible.

  Too close to Oren.

  Elora led us to a small practice space at the end of a side passage, behind the secondary library. Nothing impressive. Just a forgotten corner, with two old wooden stands, three round targets fixed to a wall, and old marks left by past exercises.

  The targets were simple.

  Thick wood.

  A painted circle in the center.

  Old, but still usable.

  "You know all the bad places in the palace?" I asked.

  "Only the useful ones."

  Eira went to stand near the wall, her hands behind her back, as if she were watching something very serious.

  Elora stayed standing in front of me, near the first target.

  "I'm not going to explain this like Master Oren," she said. "I'm not him."

  "Thankfully," I muttered.

  She ignored me.

  "Sit."

  I sat on the stone.

  "Breathe normally."

  I did.

  "Now just try to feel the center of your chest. Nothing more."

  I lowered my eyes.

  "That's it?"

  "For now."

  Eira raised her hand like she was in class.

  "And what if it gets weird?"

  I turned toward her.

  "What does 'weird' mean?"

  She shrugged.

  "I don't know. A sound. A light. Anything."

  Elora sighed.

  "It shouldn't do anything big."

  Then she looked at me.

  "At least, normally."

  "You're both very reassuring."

  I closed my eyes.

  At first, I felt nothing new.

  The cold of the stone under me.

  The light wind above the wall.

  Eira's breathing.

  Then my own.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  I remembered Kian in the yard.

  His footing.

  His breathing.

  The simple way everything seemed to answer him.

  I tried to do the same.

  Not force it.

  Just feel.

  After a few moments, a heaviness appeared.

  Faint at first.

  Then clearer.

  No heat.

  Nothing sharp.

  Just a heavy, calm presence behind my ribs.

  I opened my eyes at once.

  "I felt something."

  Elora took a step toward me.

  "What?"

  I searched for the word.

  "It wasn't like theirs."

  "Well, obviously," Eira said.

  I shot her a look.

  She raised her hands.

  "What? It's true."

  Elora stayed focused.

  "Again," she said.

  "That was already a bad idea the first time."

  "Yes."

  "You could at least pretend to hesitate."

  "No."

  I breathed out once through my nose.

  Then I closed my eyes again.

  This time, the heaviness came faster.

  As if it had already been waiting for me.

  I kept my breathing steadier.

  Not long.

  Just enough not to lose it right away.

  "Now what?" I asked without opening my eyes.

  Elora took a second before answering.

  "Open your eyes. Raise your hand toward the target. And just try to move that feeling all the way there."

  I opened my eyes again.

  The target was in front of me.

  Two steps away.

  The wood.

  The painted circle in the middle.

  Simple.

  Clear.

  I slowly raised my arm.

  My palm facing the target.

  "Like this?" I asked.

  "Yes," Elora said. "Don't think too much. Breathe. Feel your chest. Then try to move what you feel into your arm."

  I looked at her for a second.

  "You say that like it's simple."

  "No. I say it like it's the only thing we can try."

  I took another breath.

  Then another.

  The heaviness came back at once.

  This time, I didn't stop it in my chest.

  I tried to push it farther.

  My chest.

  My shoulder.

  My arm.

  My hand.

  At first, nothing.

  Then my fingers grew heavy too.

  Not burning.

  Not painful.

  Heavy.

  As if something were gathering there.

  The air in front of my palm changed.

  I felt it clearly.

  It grew heavier too.

  Tighter.

  As if the space between me and the target were closing.

  "Elora," Eira said more quietly.

  Elora didn't answer.

  I kept my arm out.

  Then something came out.

  Not a great wave.

  Not an explosion.

  Just a flame. Not white like it should have been, but black—short and dense—as it left my palm and struck the center of the target.

  The wood reacted at once.

  The painted circle darkened.

  Then darkened more.

  A black stain spread through the middle, as if the color were dying from the inside.

  At the same time, the air in the little yard changed at once.

  It grew heavier.

  The silence did too.

  Even breathing took more effort.

  Eira stepped back.

  "Vael..."

  I tried to lower my arm, but my fingers stayed numb for one second too long.

  Then the heaviness in my chest dropped all at once.

  I got up too fast.

  My legs wavered at once.

  The ground seemed to shift under me.

  I had to brace one hand against the old wooden stand to keep from falling.

  My breathing broke at once.

  Short.

  Ugly.

  Like something had pressed down inside my chest.

  My right hand felt heavy.

  Almost dead for a moment.

  And my vision blurred slightly before turning clear again.

  The target stayed like that.

  Black at the center.

  Not destroyed.

  Not broken.

  But not normal anymore.

  Elora walked toward it slowly.

  Without touching it.

  Nothing light was left on her face.

  "That," she said quietly, "was not a normal core."

  I looked at the target.

  Then my hand.

  Then Elora.

  Then Eira.

  Eira was still looking at me like I was me.

  But there was something else there too.

  Fear.

  Not of me completely.

  Of what had just come out of me.

  I took one step toward the target.

  Elora put an arm out in front of me at once.

  "Don't touch it."

  "Why?"

  "Because we still don't know what your black fire left behind."

  I stayed still.

  No one spoke for a few seconds.

  Then Eira whispered:

  "What do we say now?"

  I turned my head toward her.

  I had no answer.

  And this time, neither of them did either.