Hi
Caleb groggily woke up.
" Just a dream", Caleb muttered.
The cafeteria was louder than usual, a cacophony of trays clattering, conversations overlapping, and laughter bouncing off the high metal walls. Caleb sat at a corner table with a half-eaten roll in his hand, staring at a bowl of lukewarm soup like it held the meaning of life.
It didn't.
Just soggy carrots.
Riley plopped into the seat across from him, balancing her tray like she was performing in the circus. She always brought too much food—today it was rice stacked next to something suspiciously purple.
"Why do I feel like your soup's judging me?" she asked, popping a dumpling into her mouth.
"It probably is," Caleb said. "It's been through a lot."
She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "So. Are you gonna tell me what happened yesterday, or am I supposed to guess based on your haunted expression?"
Caleb hesitated. He hadn't told anyone about the whisper. Not Riley. Not Jian. Not even the mirror.
"I… heard something," he said slowly. "At the Rift."
Riley raised an eyebrow. "Heard something? Like a monster?"
"No. Like a voice. In my head."
Her spoon stopped mid-air. "Creepy."
"I know how it sounds."
"No, I mean like good creepy. Movie-opening creepy. Mystery-protagonist-with-secret-powers creepy."
Caleb frowned. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
He rubbed his temples. "It said my name. And then... it felt like it knew me. Like it had been waiting."
Riley's joking expression faded. She looked at him for a long time before speaking again.
"You're not making this up, are you?"
"No."
She leaned back in her chair, chewing on her lip. "Rift whispering people's names isn't normal. I mean, the Rift does weird stuff. But it usually yells, not whispers."
"You ever heard of someone else this happening to?"
Riley shook her head. "Nope. But that doesn't mean you're the first."
He glanced down at his hands. They weren't shaking today. But they didn't feel normal, either. There was a tension in them, like static waiting to snap.
Riley changed the subject.
"So Jian gave you the short staff? Not bad. She must think you're slow."
"I am slow."
"She gave me knives when I joined. Said my personality was already sharp enough."
"Sounds about right."
Riley smiled, but her eyes still studied him. "Be careful, okay?"
"With the knives?"
"No. With you."
Later that day, he wandered to the training arena again, this time when it was empty. The staff was waiting for him in the rack. He picked it up and took a deep breath.
He didn't swing it right away.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
Listened.
There was no whisper.
Only silence.
He planted his feet and began the form Jian had shown him. Step. Turn. Arc. Retract. Flow.
It was clumsy.
His grip was wrong. His foot slipped once.
But it was real.
He kept at it until his shirt was soaked and his arms were sore. And even then, he didn't stop. The staff felt heavier now—not from weight, but from purpose.
And somewhere deep inside him, beneath the fear and confusion, a slow fire began to build.
Not power.
Not yet.
But maybe... a beginning.
As the sun dipped low and the sky turned the color of cooling ash, Caleb stood in the center of the arena, panting, sweat trailing down his neck.
He was still weak.
Still unsure.
But the Rift remembered him.
And he was beginning to remember himself.