Bound to nothingness

Chapter 6:"The first collision. "

The bell for Combat Theory chimed just before noon.

Nyla had heard enough hallway rumors about the class to know most first-years dreaded it. Emily was currently proving the rumors right.

"I think she’s trying to break us," Emily muttered, clutching her satchel to her chest as they walked down the stone steps.

Nyla shifted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "No one's died yet, Em."

"There's a first time for everything."

The training hall was completely different from the rest of the academy. The ceiling was lost in high, dark rafters, and massive silver hoops hovered in the air without any visible support. The stone floor was split into circular platforms, each bordered by thin grooves cut directly into the masonry.

A few students were already gathered near the wall. Lucien was leaning against a weapon rack, chatting with a girl Nyla hadn't met yet. She had dark skin, long, neat braids, and a thin scar running through her left eyebrow.

Lucien caught Nyla’s eye and waved them over. "Nyla, Emily,this is Elsie."

The girl looked up, her dark eyes measuring them both. "Nyla Vale, right?"

"That's me," Nyla said.

Elsie nodded once. "Elsie Kade." She looked over at Emily. "And you?"

"Emily Hart," Emily offered, giving a small, tentative smile.

Before Elsie could answer, the double doors behind them slammed shut with a heavy bang that echoed off the stone. The chatter in the room cut off instantly.

Professor Voss stepped out from the side archway, accompanied by a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and a pale scar stretching from his temple to his jawline. He wore dark leather armor over a simple grey tunic, his arms crossed over a wide chest.

"Professor Marcus Rane," Voss announced, her voice carrying easily. "He handles practical combat."

Rane didn't bother smiling. His eyes swept over the rows of students like he was looking at a pile of green lumber. "I don't do speeches," he said, his voice deep and rough. "So listen once. Magic is useful, but hesitation gets people killed. Today, you learn how to keep your feet."

A boy near the front raised his hand. "Are we sparring against wards?"

"You're sparring against each other," Rane said flatly.

Everyone looked at each other.

"Pairs," Rane ordered, pulling a roll of parchment from his belt. "Move to the platforms."

Nyla stayed put near the wall. Voss had already made it clear she couldn't cast, so she assumed Rane would pair up the rest of the class and leave her to watch from the sidelines.

"Elsie Kade and Lucien Marlowe," Rane called out.

Elsie immediately stepped toward the first circular platform, pulling her hair back into a tie. Lucien followed, rolling his shoulders with an easy grin.

"Emily Hart and Julian Cross."

Emily turned pale, glancing toward a tall boy with white-blond hair who was already stepping onto the second ring. Nyla gave her sleeve a quick, reassuring squeeze before Emily forced her feet forward.

Rane ran his finger down the parchment. "Adrian Vale and—" He stopped, his brow furrowing as he looked at the bottom of the list. He squinted at the ink for a second, then looked up, his gaze locking directly onto Nyla. "Nyla Vale."

Nyla blinked. "Sir?"

"Get on the fourth platform."

Her stomach dropped. "I don't have magic, Professor."

"I didn't ask what you have," Rane replied smoothly. "I asked you to step up."

"I've never trained in combat."

"Then today is your first day." He looked toward the platform. "Move."

Nyla swallowed hard, taking a reluctant step forward. "Against who?"

Before Rane could answer, the torch flames along the walls flickered, turning thin and blue before dying out entirely. A sudden draft rushed through the hall, carrying the smell of wet stone and frost.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

Karl Draven walked in. He wasn't wearing the grey Veylcrest tunic; he wore a long black coat fastened with silver buckles. The silver raven crest of his house was pinned sharply over his collar.

Rane lowered his parchment, he didn't blink. "Your Highness."

Karl ignored the greeting completely. His dark eyes swept the hall, ignoring the students pressing back against the weapons racks, until he found Nyla standing near the fourth ring.

Something cold settled in Nyla's chest. He didn't look calm like he had in the corridor two nights ago. His face was hard, his jaw set in a strict, hostile line.

"Change the list, Rane," Karl said, his voice cutting clearly through the quiet room.

Rane didn't budge. "I'm running the drill."

"She isn't a match for anyone in this room," Karl said, looking directly at Nyla.

Nyla felt her fingers curl into her palms inside her sleeves. It wasn't just the refusal,it was the tone. He said it like she was a piece of broken furniture sitting in the middle of the floor.

"That's precisely why she's on the ring," Rane replied calmly. "Platform, Vale."

Nyla hesitated for a single second. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk back to the wall, but refusing in front of forty staring students would only make it worse. She set her teeth and walked toward the stone ring.

Karl watched her approach. As she passed him, he spoke under his breath, low enough that only she could hear. "You should have stayed in your quarters."

Nyla stopped, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. "I didn't ask to be paired with you."

"You're here now."

"So are you," she replied, stepping up onto the raised stone circle.

A flicker of genuine irritation crossed his face. He stepped onto the opposite side of the ring. The moment his boot touched the stone, the faint blue runes carved into the border turned pitch black, and the temperature on the platform plummeted.

Rane raised a hand. "Begin."

Karl moved so fast Nyla didn't even see his feet shift.

Before she could raise her arms, a hand gripped her wrist like an iron clamp, pulling her off balance. She stumbled forward, her back slamming against his chest as his other arm locked firmly across her ribs, trapping her arms against her sides.

Nyla gasped, fighting against the hold, but he didn't budge an inch.

"Yield," Karl murmured right against her ear, his voice quiet and cold. "Now."

Nyla twisted her shoulders, trying to drive her elbow back. "Let go of me."

"Say the word, Nyla."

"No."

His grip on her wrist tightened until the bone burned with pain. Nyla winced, but kept her chin up.

Karl spun her around, forcing her to face him. His eyes were inches from hers, dark and narrow. "Do you have any idea what happens to people who push me?"

Nyla's breathing came fast and shallow, but she didn't look away. "No."

"They regret it," he said, the corner of his mouth turning down before he abruptly shoved her back.

Nyla stumbled across the stone, catching her balance a foot from the edge of the ring. Karl stayed where he was, watching her with a flat, expectant look.

She straightened up, pulling her jacket back into place. "I don't regret anything."

Karl's face went completely blank.

Then the darkness hit.

It erupted from his boots like black liquid, slamming across the flagstones in a violent wave. Students near the edge scrambled backward, screaming, as Rane raised his hand to summon a glowing barrier. The wave struck Rane's shield hard enough to crack the light with a sharp snap.

Nyla threw her arms up over her face as the wall of dark energy rushed straight at her.

The shadow struck her chest and dissolved into thin air with a quiet hiss.

The entire hall fell dead silent.

Karl stared at her, his hands still raised. Nyla lowered her arms, staring back at her own palms, completely unharmed.

The calm mask he always wore shattered. The look on his face wasn't curiosity anymore; it was pure anger.

"What did you just do?" he demanded, taking a step toward her.

Nyla shook her head, taking a step back. "I didn't do anything!"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!"

Karl closed the distance between them, his dark eyes burning. "Everything has a source, Vale."

Nyla’s chest heaved. "Then go ask your own magic!"

Karl stopped dead in his tracks. His expression went terrifyingly still, the air around got thicker until it felt hard to breathe. He raised his right hand, ink-black energy twisting tight around his fingers like wire.

Rane stepped up to the edge of the platform. "Draven."

Karl didn't turn.

"That's enough," Rane said, his voice dropping , dangerous warning. "Lower your hand."

For three long seconds, no one moved. Then Karl slowly relaxed his fingers, letting the black smoke fade back into the air.

He turned his head to look at Nyla one last time. There was no hesitation or intrigue left in his eyes,just pure, cold hostility.

"Whatever you're hiding," Karl said quietly, "I'll find it."

Nyla’s eyes narrowed. "I'm not hiding anything."

"I don't care what you call it," he said softly, stepping off the ring. "I'll pull it out of you myself."

"Don't try," Nyla called after him, her voice trembling slightly, though she stood her ground.

Karl paused, looking back over his shoulder. A cold, bitter smile touched his lips. "I don't need your permission, Vale."

He turned and walked down the central aisle. The heavy oak doors at the end of the hall swung open before he reached them, and he disappeared out into the corridor.

It took five long seconds for anyone in the room to make a sound.

Rane looked down at the blackened stone of the platform, then glanced over at Nyla. "Class dismissed," he said gruffly.

No one moved.

"I said out!" Rane barked.

Everyone ran towards the exit, talking in hushed, terrified bursts.

Emily sprinted over to the platform, catching Nyla by the shoulders. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Em," Nyla said softly, though her hands were shaking.

Lucien walked up slowly, his usual easy smile entirely gone. He looked at Nyla with a sharp, serious expression. "That wasn't just a misfire, Nyla."

"I know," Nyla murmured.

Elsie joined them, glancing toward the empty doorway. "You just made yourself an enemy of the Draven house."

Nyla frowned, looking down at her boots. "I didn't do anything to him."

"That's why he hates you," Elsie said simply.

Nyla looked down at her right wrist. Four dark red finger-marks were already swelling against her skin where Karl had grabbed her. She pulled her cuff down to cover them, her pulse hammering in her ears.

She had been at Veylcrest for less than a week, but as she stepped off the platform, she knew one thing with complete certainty: whatever was coming next between her and Karl Draven, it wasn't going to stay inside a classroom.