For the first time since training began, no one corrected Deckard.
That was worse.
The pebble lay in the dirt behind him, harmless now, ordinary now, as if it had not curved around his shoulder in open air a breath before.
Deckard stared at it.
Then at Estellise.
Then at Garron.
Then at Elena.
No one looked willing to explain.
The laundry line behind him swayed once.
There was no wind in the yard.
Richter stood near the gate, half-turned from where he had been leaving.
His eyes were fixed on the space beside Deckard’s shoulder, not on Deckard himself.
That somehow made Deckard feel even less comfortable.
“What was that?” Deckard asked.
Elena moved first.
Not toward Deckard.
Toward Richter.
Her expression had changed completely.
The fear was still there, but it had folded inward, hidden beneath something sharper and older.
“You clearly saw it,” she said.
Richter’s gaze shifted to her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Garron looked between them.
“What did he see?”
Elena raised one hand.
Not now.
Garron’s jaw tightened, but he understood her well enough to obey the gesture.
Elena turned to Estellise.
“Keep him here.”
Deckard blinked.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“I am right here.”
“Remain that way.”
Estellise nodded.
“Yes.”
Deckard looked at her.
“You are agreeing too quickly.”
“You heard your mother.”
“I did, but I was hoping someone else would find it unreasonable.”
“No.”
Elena was already walking toward the side gate.
She motioned once for Garron to follow, then gave Richter a look that was less invitation than command.
Richter narrowed his eyes at her.
Then, after one measured breath, he followed.
Garron passed Deckard and paused long enough to place one heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Stay.”
“I am not a dog.”
“Then prove it by listening.”
That was unfairly effective.
Deckard stayed.
The three adults left the yard in silence.
For several breaths, Deckard and Estellise remained where they were.
Then Deckard looked at the pebble again.
“That was magic, wasn’t it?”
Estellise studied him.
“Maybe.”
“I don’t know any magic.”
“Apparently, the magic disagrees.”
He looked at her.
“That is not comforting.”
“No.”
She stepped closer and nudged his foot with her boot.
“Stance.”
Deckard stared.
“Are you serious?”
“Your mother told me to keep you here.”
“And that means training?”
“It is the most efficient way to keep you from following.”
“I could still follow.”
“Not after your legs fail.”
Deckard considered that.
Then sighed and set his feet.
Somehow, that was also unfairly effective.
Richter’s home was quieter than Elena liked.
It was not only the silence.
Elena knew silence.
She had lived with secrets long enough to recognize when a room was merely empty and when it had been trained to hold its breath.
Richter’s sitting room was the second kind.
The shelves were neat.
Too neat.
The hearth was clean.
The windows were shaded despite the hour.
A narrow blade hung above the mantle, old enough to be ceremonial and sharp enough not to be.
Garron shut the door behind them.
Elena did not sit.
Neither did Richter.
“You clearly saw it,” she said again.
“Indeed.” Richter folded his hands behind his back.
“The boy has aptitude for Wind magic.”
Garron went still.
Elena did not.
“And?”
Richter’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“And he does not know it.
More importantly, it has never shown itself before, or you would not have reacted as you did.”
Elena’s silence answered for her.
Richter looked toward the shaded window.
“Perhaps…”
He stopped.
For the first time since Elena had known him, Richter looked genuinely uncertain.
Then he laughed.
Once.
Quietly.
Almost to himself.
“Don’t tell me.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
Richter looked back at her.
“They are the same.
How intriguing.”
Garron frowned.
“Who are the same?”
Elena sighed.
“Deckard and Estellise.”
That made Garron more confused, not less.
Richter watched Elena with renewed interest.
“His magic was sealed,” she said.
Garron’s eyes widened.
“The seal.”
Elena turned slowly toward him.
“You forgot the seal?”
“No,” Garron said quickly.
“I forgot what it meant if it started weakening.”
“That is worse.”
“It is not better,” he admitted.
Richter cut in.
“When was it placed?”
Elena hesitated for only a heartbeat.
“At three months.
His birth parents—”
“Hey,” Garron said sharply.
“That is not supposed to be known.”
Elena looked at him.
Then at Richter.
“Richter, if that is his name, comes from an organization called the Order of Hallowed Light.
Are you familiar with it?”
Garron’s expression blanked.
“No.”
Richter did not blink, but the air around him seemed to tighten.
“You know that name.”
“I know enough.”
“How?”
Elena’s mouth curved without humor.
“You were not the only people who kept records.”
Richter studied her as if seeing an object he had underestimated on a shelf for years and only now realized might be a weapon.
Garron looked between them.
“Should I know what that is?”
Richter answered without taking his eyes off Elena.
“The Order of Hallowed Light was founded to hunt demons, their remnants, and the things that learned to survive in the dark after the Great Demon War.
We were not soldiers.
Not priests.
Not nobles.
We were a blade kept hidden until something needed cutting.”
“Were,” Elena said.
Richter’s gaze flicked toward her.
“Sixteen years ago, the Order was nearly destroyed.
Most of our sanctuaries were found.
Our names were burned.
Our routes were compromised.
We never confirmed the force behind it.”
Elena’s expression hardened.
“The force was not unknown.”
The room became colder.
Garron looked at her.
Elena continued, “It was the same enemy that purged House Lightfall.
The Eloran royal family was the mask.
Maximus Farien held the strings.
Toren Falsted carried the knife.
Beneath them waited the demons they served.”
Richter said nothing.
That silence was not disbelief.
It was calculation trying to survive impact.
“The Order searched for years,” he said quietly.
“We found fragments.
Bodies.
Ash.
Names of dead intermediaries.
Never that.”
“You were nearly wiped clean before you could look properly.”
“And a woman from a crater village knows all of it?”
Elena met his stare.
“A woman from a crater village was not always only that.”
Garron rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Wonderful.
We are doing that kind of conversation.”
Elena ignored him.
“Deckard’s birth family was Lightfall.
His father knew his mana was too strong for his body.
Too much, too early.
He said the boy had to grow before the power could safely be taught.”
Richter’s voice lowered.
“So they sealed it.”
“Yes.”
“With what attribute?”
Elena hesitated.
“Light.”
Richter’s eyes widened.
Only slightly.
For him, that was nearly a shout.
“Light.”
“And Wind,” Elena said.
“He has both.”
Garron looked at her.
“You never told me Light was certain.”
“I told you enough.”
“You told me wind was possible.”
“I told you what would keep you from pacing holes into the floor for sixteen years.”
“That sounds like you.”
“That sounds effective.”
Richter lifted one hand.
“The seal was made with Light.
If it was placed properly, it would not simply vanish.
It would weaken, leak, and distort as the boy’s mana grew behind it.”
Elena’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“When did the leakage begin?”
She looked away.
Garron noticed.
Richter noticed too.
“Elena.”
“Three years ago.”
Garron turned toward her.
“What?”
“It was small,” she said.
“Curtains moving when windows were shut.
A candle bending away from him when he was upset.
Dreams worsening.
The pendant growing warm once or twice.
Nothing that stayed.
Nothing I could prove.”
Richter’s expression did not soften.
“A mistake.”
Garron bristled.
“Careful.”
“No,” Elena said quietly.
“He is right.”
The admission cost her something.
She paid it anyway.
“I ignored it because acknowledging it meant beginning everything we had delayed.”
Richter’s voice remained calm.
“Then the pressure has been building for years.
What happened in the yard was not awakening.
It was leakage finding a crack.”
Garron looked toward the door as if he could see through walls all the way back to Deckard.
“Can it hurt him?”
“Yes.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Richter continued, “Uncontrolled magic always can.
Sealed magic that begins forcing itself through its own restraint is worse.
You should unseal it soon.”
“We need Luminara,” Elena said.
Garron went still again.
Richter’s gaze sharpened.
Elena continued, “The seal was made with Light.
Breaking it crudely could damage him.
There is a priest in Luminara who knows older rites.
He may be able to unbind it safely, or at least stabilize it.”
Richter was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “My apprentice also bears a seal.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
“I knew that girl was hiding something else.”
“She knows little of it.”
“How little?”
“That it has been there since childhood.
That it must remain hidden.
Not enough to understand what it means.”
“And what does it mean?”
Richter did not answer immediately.
“Not what his does.
Hers is not as complex.
It is not holding back the same kind of force.”
“But it is Light.”
“Yes.”
Elena stared at him.
Richter did not look away.
“She has Light aptitude.”
Garron exhaled slowly.
“Two children with Light, two seals, both hidden after the same sixteen-year shadow.”
Richter’s mouth moved faintly.
“Now you understand why I laughed.”
Elena did not find it funny.
Neither did Garron.
After a moment, Richter inclined his head.
“I will not interfere with your priest.”
“You will come,” Elena said.
“Will I?”
“Yes.”
Richter looked amused in the coldest possible way.
“You have become very comfortable giving orders in my home.”
“You entered mine without permission.”
“Fair.”
Garron gave a weary sigh.
“I hate when everyone has points.”
Elena turned toward the door.
“I’ll contact the priest in Luminara tomorrow.
Tonight, we keep him calm.
No more tests.”
Richter nodded.
“No more tests.”
Garron opened the door.
“And no telling Deckard all of this yet.”
Elena’s expression softened.
“No.
Not yet.”
Richter looked between them.
“He will ask.”
“He always asks,” Garron said.
“And what will you tell him?”
Elena stepped out into the morning light.
“As little as we can without lying.”
Garron followed.
Richter remained in the doorway for one breath longer.
“That is a difficult line.”
Elena did not look back.
“We have lived on it for sixteen years.”
Deckard had discovered a new kind of suffering.
Footwork without answers.
Estellise had not allowed him to follow the adults.
She had not allowed him to sit.
She had not allowed him to stare dramatically at the pebble.
She had not even allowed him to ask more than three questions before declaring questions a form of imbalance.
That last ruling felt illegal.
By the time the adults returned, Deckard had stepped, shifted, turned, corrected, failed, and restarted enough times to forget whether his left foot had ever belonged to him.
Garron entered the yard first.
Elena followed.
Richter came last.
Deckard straightened.
“What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about today,” Elena said.
That was not an answer.
It was, however, a mother answer, which meant attacking it directly would only create more problems.
Garron looked at Estellise.
“How did he do?”
“He asked questions with his feet.”
Deckard glared at her.
Garron nodded gravely.
“Common problem.”
“It is treatable.”
“Good.”
Deckard looked between them.
“I liked it better when none of you agreed.”
Elena’s expression almost softened.
Almost.
Garron clapped his hands once.
“We’re done for today.”
Deckard blinked.
“We are?”
“You can go play.”
That was somehow more suspicious than being ordered to continue.
“Play.”
“Aye.”
“That is not a word you use for me.”
“I use many words.”
“Not that one.”
Elena gave Garron a look.
He ignored it with the confidence of a doomed man.
Deckard glanced at Estellise.
Then at the side path beyond the yard.
“Can we go to the lake?”
Elena stared at him.
The yard became very still.
Deckard reconsidered several life choices.
Then Elena closed her eyes, inhaled, and opened them again.
“Fine.”
Garron looked at her.
Richter looked at her.
Deckard tried not to look too pleased.
Elena pointed at him.
“Before dinner.”
“Yes.”
“Stay where the stones still shine.”
“Yes.”
“No training.”
Deckard hesitated.
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
“No training,” he repeated.
“No pebbles,” she added.
Estellise said, “They were useful.”
“No pebbles.”
“Accepted.”
Deckard wisely said nothing.
Elena stepped aside.
“Go.”
Deckard went before she changed her mind.
Estellise followed at a calmer pace, though not by much.
Richter watched them leave.
Garron watched Elena.
Elena watched the old path until the trees swallowed both children from sight.
Far beyond the creek, where the silver-leafed woods thinned and older stones sank beneath black moss, something moved in the shade.
It had no eyes.
But it had found the scent of leaking mana.