Shadows at Noon

Kairo was convinced the day couldn't possibly get any worse—until it did. Again.

The Academy cafeteria had exploded.

Not literally, of course. But the moment he stepped through the arching glass doors, the air had thickened with so much tension, he was halfway convinced a food fight was moments away from evolving into a full-scale magical skirmish.

"What happened?" Kairo whispered, scanning the room as dozens of students stood frozen mid-bite, eyes glued to one corner of the cafeteria.

Samhael stood beside him, mouth full of bread roll. "Mmmrumph?"

"Swallow first. Words later."

She did, albeit with an audible gulp. "Some noble brat challenged a second-year to a duel because he didn't like the way he buttered his toast."

"…I'm sorry, come again?"

"He. Buttered. His. Toast. Aggressively."

Kairo blinked.

"Apparently, it was an 'affront to his honor.'" Samhael rolled her eyes. "I swear, nobles and their egos are the most fragile constructs in the multiverse."

At the center of the chaos stood two students—one clad in flamboyant robes embroidered with golden lions, the other looking like he barely rolled out of bed but radiating the relaxed danger of someone who's seen too much and cared too little.

"They're not using actual spells, are they?" Kairo asked warily.

"Nope," Samhael said, munching again. "Just words and imaginary blades."

"…What?"

"They're dueling with insults. Like actual magical bards."

"Oh." Kairo rubbed his temples. "Thank the spirits."

Then someone summoned a magical floating quill to scribe down every insult in glowing letters across the cafeteria walls.

"…Never mind."

But Kairo's amusement was short-lived.

Because the moment he turned to get food, he saw someone sitting at their usual table. Someone who wasn't supposed to be there.

"Isn't that the masked guy from the last incident?" he hissed to Samhael.

She stopped mid-bite again. "You mean the one who exploded into crows last time?"

"That's… strangely specific, but yes."

The figure sat alone, face shrouded by a deep hood, but the mask beneath it—a sleek porcelain piece with a single vertical eye mark—was unmistakable.

"No way. Shouldn't he be… I don't know… exorcised or something?" Samhael whispered.

"I don't think he was a ghost."

"Then cursed?"

"Or worse. Mysteriously enigmatic."

Before either of them could decide whether to sit or flee, the figure stood and calmly walked toward them. Every student within ten feet suddenly found the walls intensely fascinating.

"Kairo Duvan," the masked figure said in a voice as smooth as silk and just as threatening if used wrong.

"…Y-Yes?"

"Your next lesson in silence begins now."

Kairo blinked. "Uh. I didn't sign up for any elective—"

The figure touched two fingers to Kairo's forehead. A soft pulse of energy rippled through him. The world… quieted. The sounds of chatter, footsteps, even Samhael munching—gone.

"Hey, I can't hear anything!" Kairo shouted. Or tried to. No sound left his mouth.

"Congratulations," said the figure with a faint nod. "Lesson one: the world hears when you listen first."

Then he vanished. Literally. Just faded from view.

Kairo stood frozen.

Samhael chewed on a biscuit. "What did he do?"

Kairo gestured wildly.

"Did he curse you?"

Frantic nodding.

"Oh. That's bad."

Kairo sighed, loudly—internally—and marched toward the infirmary, muttering unspoken obscenities.

By the time Professor Elrin un-silenced him, Kairo was 60% frustration, 30% confusion, and 10% hungry.

"You were affected by a spell of extremely high discipline," the Professor said, frowning. "That wasn't cast by a student."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning whoever did it is either faculty—or something far worse."

Kairo rubbed his temples. Again. He was developing a callus there.

That night, he couldn't sleep.

The crack in his seal pulsed faintly. A warmth in his chest throbbed every time he exhaled. Something inside him stirred—something ancient and not entirely happy to be disturbed.

He dreamt of the voice again.

"Speak and the world shall tremble, boy."

When he awoke, sweat poured down his back. His window was open. And there was a raven sitting on the sill.

Not just a normal raven.

This one wore a tiny, shiny collar with a rune engraved in crimson.

"…Great," Kairo groaned. "More cryptic birds."

The raven cawed.

Then it spoke.

Not in chirps. In words.

"Tomorrow. South Tower. Speak the word you fear."

Then it flew away.

Kairo stared at the empty window.

"I need better dreams. And better birds."

Samhael, from the other side of the room, groaned sleepily. "Shut up, bird whisperer…"

Kairo laid back and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow was going to be fun. Or fatal. Or both.

At least it wouldn't be boring.