The clearing emptied slowly.
Not all at once.
Like smoke after fire.
Whispers trailed behind footsteps. No one dared speak Riven's name aloud. Not yet.
Kael remained beneath the trees.
Still.
Watching.
Not just Riven's form retreating into shadow—but the way the others looked at him.
Not with admiration.
With distance.
As if he were no longer one of them.
Little Abacus scribbled something short, then stopped.
He turned to Kael.
"That's the first time he's interfered this year."
Kael didn't respond.
"Did you know," Abacus continued, "he came in same year as us?"
Kael looked over.
"He didn't pass the entrance test. Barely made it in as a record keeper. No backing. No surname."
Abacus lowered his voice.
"They say he trains alone. Doesn't use standard techniques. Something about... forced resonance? Body-pushing through stress cycles?"
Kael's brow furrowed.
Abacus grinned.
"I don't know what that means. I just write things down."
Later, Kael walked the long path back to the Hollow alone.
The woods were darker now. Less golden. More grey.
He didn't feel tired.
He felt quiet.
Inside, something had shifted.
Not jealousy.
Not envy.
Not even hunger.
Clarity.
He wasn't the weakest.
But he wasn't seen.
Not really.
Even when he saved lives, the others forgot his name. Even Elric looked through him at times.
But Riven?
They couldn't look away.
Kael stopped at the edge of the valley ridge.
Below, the Hollow flickered in soft green light.
He clenched his fists.
"I don't need to be feared," he murmured.
"But I won't be ignored."
The bottle didn't pulse.
Didn't glow.
But as Kael meditated that night, posture still and breath steady—
For the first time in weeks, the energy in his limbs didn't scatter.
It settled.
Like embers beneath ash.
Waiting.