The training hall echoed with the rhythmic strikes of practice staves and the hiss of controlled bursts of energy. Luma twisted to avoid a light pulse aimed at her shoulder, then countered with a deflection of her own, her stance grounded just as Elder Ion had taught her.
Nico grinned across from her, catching the pulse on a circular shield strapped to his wrist. "You're getting faster," he said, stepping back and tossing her a thumbs-up. "Pretty soon I'll stop going easy on you."
She smirked. "Sure you were."
Around them, the training group bustled with life. Eight students total. Luma and Nico had quickly become familiar with most of them. There was Reyla, the quick-footed strategist with a sharp tongue and an eye for patterns. Torren, heavy-set but surprisingly nimble, whose laughter filled every gap of silence. Jin, whose quiet demeanor didn't hide his cutting precision. Sefra, who seemed to know exactly how much effort was too much—and always gave just one degree less.
But it was Valen—tall, composed, and too observant—that made Luma pause every now and then. Something about his stillness felt practiced, not natural. He asked questions, but never too many. He offered advice, but never too much. It was like he was trying to fit in too perfectly.
Ion's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Group break! Everyone hydrate. Luma, Nico—on me."
They followed him toward the shaded edge of the hall. Ion passed them each a carved stone flask. "You two are progressing well," he said, nodding toward their earlier bout. "You've grasped the mechanics of force deflection. Tell me, what's the relationship between force and time when momentum is transferred?"
Luma responded, recalling a moment from earlier lessons. "If force is applied over a longer time, the impact is less intense. Like when I roll to absorb a fall instead of hitting the ground flat."
Ion smiled. "Impulse. A key concept. , where is the change in momentum. This will be important if you're ever trying to stop something—or someone—without being crushed in the process."
He turned, watching the others. "The Masters of Entropy don't always overpower. Sometimes, they redirect, delay, deceive. Just like force, their danger lies not only in strength, but in timing."
Luma felt her chest tighten. "You think they'll come here, don't you?"
"I know they will," Ion said, his voice low. "But not yet. And when they do, I want you prepared."
As they returned to training, Luma couldn't help but glance at Valen once more. He was smiling with Reyla over a sparring trick. But his eyes—his eyes were watching everything.