unseen evolution

Jace Torren leaned against the academy's outer training wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the sky. His Silvercrest Raven perched on a nearby post, ruffling its feathers as if nothing had changed. To anyone watching, it was the same as before—a sharp-eyed scout, a messenger of the skies.

But Jace knew better.

The Nightborn Veil had worked.

He could still feel the aftereffects of the transformation. When the Attribute Card had dissolved, something in the air had shifted—like an invisible thread had been plucked, sending vibrations through his familiar bond. It wasn't just power. It was something deeper.

But here was the problem.

The Silvercrest Raven wasn't showing any signs of change. Not outwardly.

It still sat there, completely still, watching, waiting. Its feathers shimmered faintly under the academy's training lights, but no one else would notice the difference. The way it held itself, the faint hum of energy in the air—those were things only Jace could sense.

Still, that suited him just fine.

Jace had never been the type to flaunt power. He had spent enough time in the academy watching those with strength throw it around, drawing attention, inviting challenges. That wasn't his style. He didn't want to be noticed—he wanted to be unseen, operating outside of expectations.

And this?

This was a power no one would see coming.

The First Test

Jace exhaled, pushing off the wall. "Alright, let's see what you can really do," he muttered, glancing at his familiar.

The Silvercrest Raven tilted its head, its gleaming eyes unreadable.

Jace turned, scanning the academy courtyard. There weren't many students around at this hour—most were still in mana control class or recovering from training. Perfect. He lifted a small metal coin from his pocket and flicked it into the air.

"Fetch."

The coin arced toward the trees, a simple, meaningless toss. Before, his familiar would have taken a few wingbeats to gain speed, chasing after the object like any trained scout bird. But now—

The moment the word left his lips, the Silvercrest Raven disappeared.

Not in a blur. Not in a burst of speed.

It just wasn't there anymore.

Jace stiffened. He hadn't even felt it move through their bond. No rush of wings. No wind displacement. No sign of travel.

Then—

Clink.

The coin hit the ground. The Silvercrest Raven was already there, perched on the branch above it, watching him silently.

Jace's heart pounded. "No way."

That wasn't flight. That wasn't even movement.

It had skipped the space in between.

Teleportation? No, it wasn't like that either. If it had been teleportation, he would've at least sensed a fluctuation in mana, some sign of a shift. But this? This was seamless. Like the raven had just decided to be in a different place, and reality had agreed.

Jace let out a slow breath.

This wasn't just an enhancement.

This was something else entirely.

Hidden Potential

The Silvercrest Raven flicked its wings, hopping down from the tree, landing soundlessly on the training ground. It moved as if nothing was unusual, as if it hadn't just broken the fundamental laws of familiar movement.

Jace rubbed his chin. Alright. Play it cool. Don't draw attention.

He reached into his coat and pulled out another object—this time, a small, hand-wrapped bundle of cloth. A scent-based test.

"Find this," he said, tossing it further.

Before, this would have been a difficult task. The Silvercrest Raven had a sharp mind and could memorize patterns, but it wasn't a scent tracker. This time, though—

It was already gone.

Jace didn't even get the chance to blink before his familiar wasn't there anymore.

Then, a whisper of wind. A rustle in the grass, faint as a breath. The bundle was gone. And the Silvercrest Raven was right back where it started, looking at him expectantly.

Jace stared.

The speed was unreal. It hadn't just retrieved the item—it had known exactly where it would land the moment it left his hand.

He knelt down, taking the cloth bundle from its beak. "Alright, I get it. You're on a whole different level now."

The raven didn't respond. Just watched. Calculating.

Jace exhaled.

This wasn't just an upgrade.

This was absolute efficiency.

A familiar that could move anywhere, at any time, with no lag, no delay, no warning. A scout with omnipresent movement.

And no one had any idea.

A Secret Weapon

Jace felt the weight of the power in his hands. He had always been the strategist type—the one who watched, waited, planned his moves before ever stepping forward. This ability? This silent, unseen dominance? It was perfect for him.

If he let people know, if he showed even a fraction of what his familiar could do, they'd start watching him. Asking questions. Targeting him.

He wasn't about to let that happen.

He turned on his heel, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked away. The Silvercrest Raven took off, flying lazily above him, looking normal, acting normal. No one would suspect a thing.

But Jace knew the truth.

If he ever decided to step forward, to let loose the full potential of his familiar—

There wouldn't be a battlefield in the world that could stop him.

For now, though?

He'd just let them all think he was the same old Jace.

And when the time came?

He'd be the last thing they never saw.

Meanwhile

Vivian Marchand adjusted the strap of her academy-issued satchel, letting out a slow breath as she made her way across the training grounds,as she was getting ready for her mana class having a feeling Kyle might just be there. The sparring match between Kyle and Darius had ended a while ago, yet her mind kept circling back to it.

She wasn't the only one.

Even as students filed back toward the academy halls, she caught snippets of conversation. Murmurs about Kyle, about how he had nearly beaten Darius in his first real match. How his movements had seemed unnatural—not in the sense of mana, but in how quickly he had adapted, how his instincts had sharpened in real time.

Vivian understood the importance of observation. As a healer, she wasn't just trained to restore wounds; she was trained to see—to notice small details, subtle shifts in energy, patterns in a person's body language that others might overlook.

And something about Kyle Corvayn didn't add up.

A Fight That Shouldn't Have Been Close

Darius Holt was strong. He had trained relentlessly to get to where he was. His Stormfang Panther was a familiar built for speed, aggression, precision. On paper, Kyle shouldn't have been able to keep up.

Yet he had.

Vivian replayed the fight in her mind. Kyle's movements had been raw, but there was an efficiency to them—as if his body knew exactly where to be, exactly when to react, despite his lack of formal training. His counters had been near-perfect, as if he were experiencing the battle on a deeper level than everyone else.

That wasn't normal.

It wasn't luck either.

Most students took years to reach that level of combat awareness. But Kyle? He had only just begun.

And then there was the air around him.

Vivian had felt it. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, like a chill creeping through the edges of the battlefield. It wasn't magic—not any spell she recognized. It was something else. Something older, something deeper.

Something that didn't belong.

The Problem with Questions

She hated this feeling. The gnawing sense that something important was just beyond her reach.

She wasn't the type to pry into other people's business. She had spent enough time at the academy to know that everyone had secrets, and some were better left alone.

But Kyle's secret?

It wasn't going to stay hidden for long.

The instructors had noticed him. Calder had studied him during the fight, his expression unreadable. Vaughn had been watching him too, though from a distance. Even some of the other students had picked up on it—on that lingering unease that came whenever Kyle moved.

Most wouldn't know how to put it into words. They'd chalk it up to raw talent, to a sudden awakening of skill under pressure.

Vivian knew better.

Talent wasn't the kind of thing that made the air feel wrong.

A Familiar That Wasn't There

That was the strangest part of it all.

Kyle hadn't used his familiar.

Every student had a bond with their familiar. Even in battle, even when they weren't actively summoning them, their presence was always there—a tether of energy, a connection that any trained healer or mana-sensitive individual could detect.

But Kyle?

His presence had felt split.

It was like there was something watching from just outside perception—something just out of reach, just beyond what her senses could grasp. A familiar that should have been there, but wasn't.

It made no sense.

Unless…

Vivian frowned, pushing the thought away.

That kind of speculation was dangerous.

Should She Say Something?

Vivian hesitated near the entrance of the academy halls, glancing back toward the now-empty sparring field. She could still see the faint scuff marks in the dirt, the remnants of the fight.

She could keep this to herself.

It wasn't like Kyle had done anything wrong. He had fought within the rules. He had held his own, but he hadn't shown anything that could be considered impossible—just unlikely.

And yet…

Something told her this wasn't the end of it.

Kyle Corvayn was hiding something.

And sooner or later, the academy would find out.

The only question was who would uncover it first.

With that thought lingering in her mind, Vivian turned and walked in to the next class which was mana class having a feeling Kyle might be there