Soul Cores and Secrets

The next day the Academy history classroom was packed "The walls of the room were adorned with intricate charts, maps, and diagrams, each detailing the various ranks of mages and their corresponding abilities, every desk filled as the students buzzed with quiet conversations.

Rumors traveled faster than lectures, and today's topic was the mysterious sparring match between Victoria Drake and Kieran Webb.

Elena Rodriguez, a silver-ranked student with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, leaned across to her friend Marcus. "Did you hear? The top-ranked student actually sparred with that dark magic kid?

Marcus, still nursing bruises from his earlier encounter with Kieran, shifted uncomfortably. "It's probably nothing."

At the front of the room, Professor Aldryn paced slowly, his long robes brushing against the stone floor. His sharp, hawkish eyes seemed to see through every student, as though he could pluck secrets straight from their souls.

Kieran sat near the back, hunched slightly in his chair, his hand clenched tightly around his quill. 'Why do I feel like this lesson is going to be a problem?' he thought, glancing cautiously at the entity's presence in his mind.

"Because it might be," the entity murmured lazily. "Relax. They can't see me unless you give me control. And you're not that foolish."

Kieran exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing a fraction. He focused as Professor Aldryn cleared his throat, silencing the room.

"Today, we delve into the foundation of magic itself: the soul core," Aldryn began, his voice carrying the authority of a man who had seen centuries pass. "The essence of a mage's strength. The manifestation of their soul. Every living being is born with a core—its color determining their potential."

He gestured to the largest chart, a vibrant spectrum stretching from deep violet to pure, radiant white. The colors shimmered faintly under the magical torches illuminating the room.

"All babies begin at violet, the lowest rank. Weak. Fragile. But even violet is the foundation of greatness." Aldryn paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "The rare exceptions—nobles, prodigies, and other anomalies—may begin their lives at indigo or higher. These individuals are gifted, born with a greater affinity for magic."

Victoria, seated near the front, tilted her head with a small smirk. "Is that why noble children surpass commoners so easily?" she asked her tone light but edged with condescension.

Aldryn didn't rise to the bait. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it's because they have access to resources commoners do not. The Lytharium Stones, for example."

A murmur rippled through the classroom at the mention of the stones. Kieran's brow furrowed. He'd heard whispers of these before—precious gems capable of accelerating a mage's growth, available only to the elite.

"Where do the stones come from?" another student asked. "Why are they so rare?"

Aldryn's expression grew shadowed. "The origins of the Lytharium Stones are… veiled in secrecy. Some say they are mined from the ruins of gods. Others believe they are fragments of ancient, shattered cores. What matters is their power. One consumption of the stones can elevate a core's rank, but they are hoarded by the powerful, sold at prices beyond the reach of most."

'Of course,' Kieran thought bitterly. 'Another advantage for the nobles.'

"Contrary to what some nobles might believe," Aldryn said, his tone sharp as his eyes flicked toward a few haughty students, "Lytharium Stones are not a shortcut to godhood. The core has limits, and reckless consumption of the stones will not strengthen you—it will destroy you. Core overstrain is a death sentence for even the most talented mages."

He tapped the chart, his finger resting on the glowing blue section. "True progression requires effort and patience. Stones may aid you, yes, but without training, they are nothing more than a crutch. And for those too eager…" His voice dropped, laden with warning. "Legends speak of those who consumed too much, too quickly. Their cores cracked under the strain, and their power twisted into something monstrous."

Victoria raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Monstrous, how?"

Aldryn fixed her with a hard look. "Some believe they became black-core abominations. Others say they simply… disappeared. The truth remains buried, but the lesson is clear: greed leads to ruin."

Aldryn turned back to the chart, pointing to the far ends of the spectrum. "Now, at the pinnacle of magic, we have the white cores. Rare as stars in daylight. Legends say only those who achieve enlightenment—beings approaching divinity itself—can reach this rank. The gods themselves are said to wield white cores, their purity unmatched."

Victoria's hand shot up. "And black cores?" she asked, her voice slightly quieter now. "I've heard they exist, but are they… real?"

The room fell silent. Even Aldryn paused for a moment before answering, his tone grave. "Black cores are an abomination. They are a corruption of the soul—a violation of the natural order. Mages with black cores are not mages at all. They are something… else. And if one were to appear, it would be hunted. Immediately."

Kieran's chest tightened. His grip on his quill faltered. 'What if they can see…?' His thoughts raced as panic began to claw at him.

"Relax," the entity hissed, its tone laced with irritation. "Your core is indigo, like everyone else here. They'll see what you want them to see—nothing more."

Aldryn clapped his hands, drawing the students' attention back to him. "Now, let's move on to a practical demonstration. Channel your magical essence into your eyes. This will allow you to see the color of another's core. A useful skill for assessing allies… and enemies."

The students immediately began murmuring, their excitement building. Kieran felt a bead of sweat trail down his temple. 'This is bad. What if I slip up? What if they see you?' he thought furiously.

"They won't. Stop panicking." The entity's voice was calmer now, almost amused. "Do what they ask. You'll blend in just fine."

Kieran swallowed hard and followed Aldryn's instructions. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint, thrumming essence within him. Slowly, he felt the energy rise, pooling behind his eyes. When he opened them, the world looked… different. The colors of his classmates' cores glowed faintly around them, auras of violet, indigo, and—rarely—blue.

Victoria turned to the student beside her, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Blue," she said, her tone smug. "Highest in the class, of course."

A boy nearby muttered, "Typical nobles…"

Aldryn observed them carefully. "Good. Now, pair up and examine one another. Look for the subtleties in the glow. Indigo cores may flicker with traces of blue, indicating near advancement."

Kieran's heart pounded as another student approached him. "Kieran, right? Want to pair up?"

He forced a smile. "Sure."

The other boy squinted, his eyes glowing faintly as he scanned Kieran's core. "Indigo. Solid. Nothing unusual."

Kieran exhaled slowly, relief washing over him. 'Thank the gods,' he thought.

"Told you," the entity said smugly. "Your secret's safe. For now."

Across the room, Aldryn clapped his hands again. "Excellent work. Tomorrow, we'll explore the process of advancing your core—and why soul cores are as much a reflection of will as they are of talent."

Kieran slumped slightly in his seat, his nerves frayed but intact. 'One day, they're going to figure it out,' he thought. 'And when they do…'

The entity chuckled darkly. "Then we'll show them what a real abomination looks like."******

The sun had sunk low, casting long shadows across the stone pathways of the Academy. Lanterns flickered to life, their soft golden glow illuminating the grounds as students spilled out of the lecture halls. The air carried the faint hum of chatter, though most of it trailed in Kieran's wake.

He ignored the whispers, the lingering glances.

"That's the guy who fought Victoria."

"Didn't think a bronze rank could last a minute, let alone force a stalemate."

"Rumor says he came from the streets. Think he cheated?"

Kieran didn't bother looking back. His footsteps were measured, his eyes forward, every movement deliberate. He didn't need to feed the fire; gossip was like a spark on dry grass. It would burn out on its own.

'Let them talk. Better to be underestimated or feared than ignored,' he thought, slipping his hands into his pockets. The faint, ever-present murmur of the entity stirred in his mind.

'Their awe will fade, boy. Impress them with survival, and they'll remember you forever.'

Kieran's lips twitched. 'Survival isn't about being remembered. It's about staying alive.'

The cafeteria loomed ahead, its warm light spilling through the arched windows. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted out, tugging at his empty stomach. He wasn't sure if it was hunger or exhaustion, but the day felt heavier than usual.

As he pushed the door open, the volume of conversation hit him like a wave. The long, communal tables were packed with students. Some gestured animatedly, others laughed too loudly. A few heads turned when he entered, whispers starting again, but he ignored them.

He spotted an open seat at the far end of the hall and made a beeline for it. The idea of sitting in the middle of the chaos wasn't appealing.

"Kieran."

He stopped mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. A boy his age was leaning against the wall near the serving line, arms crossed, a faint grin on his face. He had a shock of sandy blond hair and a build that spoke of years of training. His uniform, though the same as everyone else's, somehow looked sharper, like he belonged in it.

"I've been waiting to talk to you." The boy's tone was casual, but his gaze was anything but.

Kieran turned fully, keeping his expression neutral. "And you are?"

"Ronan," the boy said, stepping closer. His grin widened. "Heard you gave Victoria a run for her money. Impressive, considering most bronze ranks wouldn't last five seconds."

'He's testing you,' the entity murmured.

Kieran shrugged. "She's strong. I got lucky."

Ronan tilted his head, studying him like one might a puzzle. "You're not much for boasting, are you?"

"Not much to boast about," Kieran replied flatly.

Ronan chuckled. "Humble, too. Interesting. Most people would be milking that fight for all it's worth." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "But I don't think it was luck. People like you don't survive on luck."

Kieran's jaw tightened, but he kept his face impassive.

'He knows too much,' he thought.

'Let him. Knowledge doesn't equal power,' the entity whispered.

Ronan straightened, his grin fading into something more serious. "I'm not looking for trouble. Just curious. Someone like you… You're different. I can tell."

"I'm just trying to survive," Kieran said, his voice calm but firm. "Same as everyone else."

Ronan's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he stepped aside. "Fair enough. But if you ever want to… talk strategy, or anything else, find me."

Without waiting for a response, Ronan walked away, disappearing into the throng of students.

Kieran exhaled slowly, his muscles relaxing.

'Another one who thinks he can use you,' the entity said, its tone almost amused.

'Let him try,' Kieran thought, grabbing a tray from the serving line. 'I'll use him first.'

He piled his tray with whatever was available—bread, soup, a slab of roasted meat—and found his seat at the far end of the room. Alone, just as he preferred.

But even as he ate, he could feel the weight of eyes on him, hear the faint whispers that refused to die down.

"Did you hear? He didn't just hold his own against Victoria—he caught her off guard."

"Someone said his combat style doesn't even look trained, just… dangerous."

"Street rats can be dangerous. That doesn't mean he'll last here."

Kieran's hand clenched around his spoon. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to relax.

'Let them talk,' he reminded himself. 'Let them underestimate me.'

The entity's voice was quiet but sharp. 'If you want to rise, boy, you'll need more than silence. Fear is a tool—learn to wield it.'

'Not yet,' Kieran thought, finishing the last of his soup. 'I'll make my move when the time is right.'