Aether is it?

The training fields behind Aethercrest's south wing stretched out beneath a morning sky streaked with pale orange. Unlike the main courtyard, these grounds were mostly empty—reserved for students pursuing less traditional disciplines or special permission drills.

Today, it belonged to Vale and Lyra.

Noctis adjusted the wrappings around his palms as Ava strode forward, silver hair tied back, a practice longsword strapped to her back. A new energy radiated from her—measured and purposeful.

"You ready?" she asked.

He rolled his shoulders. Twin wooden daggers hung at his hips. "Define ready."

"Ready to stop flailing and actually learn, Vale."

He gave a crooked smile. "That's fair."

Ava turned, her eyes scanning the field. "Professor Caelum said we'd need to forge direct connections to our Aether if we want to evolve it beyond instinct."

Noctis frowned. "How do you even forge a connection with something that's basically your soul?"

She drew her blade in a smooth, downward arc. "One mistake at a time."

The first few hours were rough.

Noctis struggled to keep his Shadowshift in check. His shadows flickered like broken film—appearing around him too fast or not at all. When he tried to vanish and reappear, he left behind lingering afterimages that confused even him.

Ava, meanwhile, was grappling with something subtler. Her golden Aether responded with elegance—but it lacked direction. Her swings were powerful, but the light she generated with each blow fractured too early, scattering into the air like sparks from a dying star.

They trained until sweat soaked their shirts and their chests burned from effort.

"Break?" Noctis asked, doubling over, hands on his knees.

"No," Ava said, though her shoulders drooped. "Again."

He groaned but got into stance. "You're impossible."

"Good."

This time, she went for a downward strike—but focused her Aether at the center of her blade, not the edges. A golden flare rippled down the steel and didn't shatter.

She grinned. "Did you see that?"

"Show-off," he muttered, but secretly? He was impressed.

Now it was his turn.

Noctis closed his eyes. Focus. Intention first, movement second.

Shadowshift wasn't just teleportation—it was a bending of presence. To flicker through space, he had to let go of his anchor to this world for a moment. Not disappear—slip between.

He felt his breath still. The world dulled.

He shifted.

And reappeared behind Ava, shadows trailing off his shoulders like smoke.

Ava turned slowly, surprised. "You actually did it."

He held up one of his daggers. "One step at a time."

Around midday, they sat beneath a tree at the field's edge, sipping water and tending to bruises.

"So what is Golden Aether, really?" Noctis asked, watching her wrap her fingers.

Ava paused. "Still figuring it out. It's rare—only a few cases recorded. From what I've read, it manifests as radiant force… light and weight, but also intention. Like… will made physical."

He raised a brow. "Sounds terrifying."

"Yours isn't exactly comforting," she said. "Shadowshift… that's old Aether. Dark and slippery. You could do a lot of damage with it."

He twirled one of the practice daggers. "Maybe. If I could stop tripping over my own feet."

Ava gave him a sideways glance. "You know what Professor Caelum said about Shadow Aether users, right?"

He looked at her.

"They're either brilliant… or dangerous."

A quiet breeze stirred between them.

"I think I'm aiming for both," he said finally.

She smirked. "Well, aim better."

The second half of the day was weapon-specific.

Ava began her longsword drills with intensity—her strikes carving golden arcs through the air. She practiced footwork and blade angles, learning how to use her size and balance to control momentum.

When she infused her blade with light mid-swing, the air around it shimmered like the horizon on a summer day.

Noctis, meanwhile, practiced dagger routines: short, rapid strikes; feints and reversals; low sweeps that complemented his natural speed. His style was agile and unpredictable—but he had to be careful not to let his Shadow Aether overwhelm the motion.

If he let too much shadow trail his attacks, they blurred—effective, but uncontrolled. Professor Caelum's warning echoed in his head:

"Mastery isn't about raw power. It's about knowing when not to use it."

Still, when he pulled off a Shadowstep-spin into a dual slash that disarmed one of the wooden training dummies, he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

Ava clapped, a rare sparkle in her eye. "Show-off."

As the sun began to lower, painting the sky in soft orange hues, the two of them sat back-to-back on the grass, catching their breath.

"So what now?" Noctis asked.

"Tomorrow? More of this," Ava said.

"No, I mean… in the big picture. We're still trapped. We haven't found any system exit. And now half the school thinks we're either prodigies or freaks."

She didn't answer right away.

Then: "I don't think this place wants us to leave. Not yet."

Noctis frowned. "What do you mean?"

She stood slowly, stretching her arms. Her silhouette was framed by the fading gold light—Aether still humming faintly along her skin.

"I mean this isn't just a game. It's a test. For something bigger. We're not just here to survive."

She looked at him, serious now.

"We're here to change something."

Noctis's grip on his dagger tightened slightly.

Then he stood too. "Well, let's hope we live long enough to figure out what."