The Silence Between

The academy grounds stretched wide before Ved as he walked. The echoes of students chattering filled the halls, some excitedly discussing the lesson, others whispering in hushed voices.

Ved ignored them all.

He had no reason to waste his time. Idle chatter was pointless, a meaningless exchange that neither strengthened nor benefited him. He walked slowly and deliberately, yet everyone noticed him.

No one got in his way.

A single cold look from his icy blue eyes was enough to make people step aside, whether consciously or instinctively. It wasn't just his rank that made them wary or his status. It was the quiet intensity that burned beneath his calm exterior, the sense of danger that clung to him like a shadow.

A few students still lingered around, hesitating as if they wanted to approach him but lacked the courage. He caught one whispering to another.

"Did you see how he didn't even react in class?"

"Yeah… it's like he doesn't care about anything."

Another scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "That's what makes him terrifying. I heard even the elf princess seemed cautious around him. I swear someone saw them together, talking. Can you imagine what they could be talking about?"

Ved didn't slow down, his pace unwavering. Their whispers were like the buzzing of flies, an irritating noise that he tuned out effortlessly.

Rumors meant nothing. Words held no weight unless they came from someone who could back them up with action. And so far, none of these students had proven themselves worthy of his attention.

He had a destination in mind—the library.

The academy's library was an imposing structure, a fortress of knowledge, lined with towering bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. The scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air, and the flickering glow of enchanted lamps illuminated the vast space.

Students sat at long tables, poring over books. Some researching magic, their brows furrowed in concentration while others struggling through difficult assignments, their faces etched with frustration. The only sounds were the rustling of pages and the occasional muffled cough.

Ved stepped inside, his presence causing an unconscious shift in the air, a subtle ripple in the quiet atmosphere of the library. 

A few students glanced up at him, their eyes widening slightly, before quickly returning to their work, their postures stiffening, their movements becoming more deliberate. He ignored them, his sharp gaze scanning the shelves with precise efficiency, searching for a specific title. 

His fingers glided over the spines of the books, reading the titles without pause, his mind cataloging the information, until he found what he was looking for—The Art of War.

A fitting read. He appreciated the wisdom and strategy described within.

Since he had free time, he decided to do something worthwhile—study. Battles, war strategies, the intricate maneuvers of warfare… These things interested him. They held a certain beauty, a cold, logical elegance.

He pulled the book from the shelf then he turned, and walked toward an empty table near the far end of the library.

Here, it was silent.

The kind of silence he preferred. It was a silence that allowed him to think, to process information.

He sat, the heavy wooden chair groaning slightly under his weight, opened the book, and began reading. His eyes moved across the pages, absorbing information effortlessly.

Time passed.

Ved remained still, undisturbed by the movements of others.

The sky had darkened by the time he finally lifted his gaze from the pages. The sun had dipped below the academy walls, casting long shadows through the large windows.

Outside, students still lingered. Some practiced magic under the open sky, their spells illuminating the open training grounds with bursts of color, flashes of light against the darkening sky. Others sat together in small groups, talking, laughing, their voices a distant murmur.

Ved closed the book. He had memorized what he needed.

Rising to his hand, his movement smooth and graceful, he placed the book back on the shelf, returning it to its place among the vast collection of knowledge, and left the library.

On his way back to the dorms, he spotted someone he knew near the open training grounds.

Lyra.

His twin sister stood under the flickering glow of a gas lantern, her arms crossed as she observed a group of students sparring. Their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. The flickering light cast sharp shadows on her face, emphasizing her cold, composed features, the sharp angles of her jaw and the intensity of her gaze.

The moment she noticed him, her expression didn't change—but Ved could feel the sharpness in her gaze.

"You didn't even hesitate," she said, her voice even, devoid of any inflection.

Ved knew exactly what she meant. She was referring to his answer in the Magic Theory lecture ealy today, his blunt response that had shocked some of the students and left others uneasy.

"You expected otherwise?" he replied, his voice equally flat.

"No," she admitted. "But it's one thing to know, and another to witness."

Ved didn't respond. He saw no need to. Lyra understood him better than anyone.

Lyra exhaled softly, a small puff of air, her arms still crossed, her posture rigid. "You make people uneasy, Ved."

"I don't care." he replied, his voice cold and indifferent.

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips. "Of course, you don't."

They stood there in silence, the stillness broken only by the clang of steel on steel as two students clashed in a sparring match nearby. Their swords rang against each other, a flurry of movement, a dance of attack and defense. One of them hesitated, just for a second, a fleeting moment of doubt.

That second was all it took.

His opponent, sensing the hesitation, he capitalized on the opening, landing a decisive blow that sent his opponent staggering back, his sword clattering to the ground. The match was over.

Lyra's gaze remained on the scene, her eyes narrowed. "Hesitation leads to defeat." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Ved nodded, his eyes also on the defeated student. "That's why I don't hesitate." he said, his voice flat.

Lyra glanced at him, her cold icy blue eyes, so similar to his own, reflecting his own detachment, his own ruthlessness. "I know." she said simply.

She didn't need to say anything else. There was no lecture, no warning or advice, no attempt to soften his approach. She just understood him. And that was it.