ECHOBURN

Ren woke to light for once. Soft and golden, not harsh like the overhead fluorescents he was used to. It filtered through the curtains, warming the bare floor of his room. For a moment, he forgot where he was.

The smell of burnt toast and something vaguely herbal drifted in from the hall.

He got up, tugged on a shirt, and stepped out.

The shared lounge was buzzing with quiet life.

Kael was mock-sparring with Anya, their movements fast but casual. Lyra sat on the edge of the couch with a steaming cup in her hand, reading something from a tablet. Veyra was sprawled upside-down on an armchair, head dangling off the cushion, half-asleep.

No one looked surprised to see him.

"Morning," Kael said between dodges.

"Still alive?" Veyra mumbled from her strange position.

Ren gave a quiet nod. Someone tossed him a protein bar. He caught it without thinking.

No long stares. No awkward silence. Just… space.

They ended up outside later, the courtyard sun-warmed and quiet. Kael gestured at Ren with a tilt of his head.

"Up for a round?"

Ren nodded.

No powers, no flash—just movement. Kael was heavier, grounded. Ren was quicker. They circled, tested, broke and re-engaged.

"You're better when you don't think," Kael grunted, blocking a sharp feint.

Veyra sat nearby, sipping a juice pouch. "That's true for a lot of guys."

Lyra, watching from behind a page of her tablet, added, "You move like someone who learned the hard way."

Ren didn't respond, but something flickered in his eyes.

Anya stood off to the side, arms crossed. Watching. Always watching.

Later, they were back inside, sprawled across the dorm's shared space. Someone had made popcorn. The kettle whined from the kitchen.

"I still don't understand how you mess up tea," Veyra said, flicking Kael with a pen.

"Because I don't drink leaves boiled in sadness," he replied.

Ren sat off to the side, unwrapping another bar. Not quite smiling. But not outside the circle anymore.

Lyra spoke suddenly, softly:

"What did you do before this?"

Ren looked up. Everyone else paused.

He hesitated, then answered.

"Ran a lot."

That was all he said.

And none of them asked more.

As the sun began to fall, shadows crept across the lounge. They were half-asleep again—lazy, content.

The door opened with a sharp click.

An unfamiliar man stepped inside. Tall, weathered, dressed in instructor black. He looked at no one in particular and dropped a thick envelope onto the table.

"Dorm 7," he said, voice flat. "Prep for field deployment. 48 hours."

He turned to go, then paused.

"This one's unsupervised. Good luck."

The door closed behind him.

Silence.

 "That's not normal, right?"

Lyra slowly shook her head. "Not even close."

Ren stared at the envelope.

The mug from the night before still sat on his desk.

He wasn't sure what waited outside the academy walls…