Cold.
That was the first thing Rowan felt.
A sudden splash of water hit his body, sharp and biting, dragging him violently from the darkness.
His eyes didn't open.
Couldn't.
Every part of him felt wrong.
His ribs broken. He could feel it in the way his chest struggled to rise, each breath shallow, uneven. His arm throbbed with a dull, heavy pain, useless at his side. Even his head pulsed, a deep ache that made thought itself feel distant.
I… lost…
The realization came slowly, sinking into him like weight.
Voices drifted in next.
Muffled at first. Then clearer.
"…you went too far."
Colin.
Rowan stayed still, forcing his breathing to remain shallow, controlled. Not awake. Not yet.
"You're not wrong," Enzo replied, tone unusually calm. Not mocking. Not sharp. Just… measured. "But I needed to see it."
"See what?" Colin shot back. "You nearly crushed him. He's barely standing as it is, and you decide that's the right time to 'test' him?"
A pause.
Rowan listened, every word cutting through the haze in his mind.
"He shouldn't be here," Enzo said finally.
Not with disdain.
With certainty.
"That's exactly my point," Colin replied, voice low, warning. "And yet he is."
Another pause. Longer this time.
Rowan felt it the shift.
Enzo exhaled softly.
"That's what doesn't sit right," he admitted. "Someone like him… shouldn't have lasted. Not through that."
Rowan's chest tightened, pain flaring at the movement.
That… again…
"The way he moves," Enzo continued, quieter now, more thoughtful than Rowan had ever heard him. "It's wrong. No foundation. No training. Nothing you'd expect."
Colin didn't interrupt.
"But," Enzo went on, "he adapts too quickly. Too cleanly. Like he's skipping steps he shouldn't even understand."
Rowan's fingers twitched slightly against the ground.
"…you noticed it too," Colin said after a moment.
A faint scoff. Not mocking just acknowledging.
"I hit him hard on purpose," Enzo admitted. "Pushed him past the point where thinking should fall apart."
Rowan's stomach twisted faintly.
"And?" Colin pressed.
A pause.
Then
"For a second," Enzo said, voice quieter now, almost reluctant, "he saw it."
Rowan's breath nearly hitched. He forced it down.
"Not properly," Enzo added quickly. "Not enough to matter."
But it had mattered.
Even Rowan knew that.
Colin exhaled slowly. "You still went too far."
"Maybe," Enzo said.
No argument this time.
Just that same calm tone.
"But now I know."
Rowan lay there, unmoving, his body screaming in pain, his mind racing despite it.
Know what…?
The question burned but he stayed still.
Listening.
Learning.
Because right now…
That was all he could do.
Rowan's control slipped.
His fingers twitched again this time just enough.
His eyes opened.
Light flooded in, harsh and disorienting. For a moment, everything blurred shapes, movement, color before slowly pulling into focus.
Stone.
He was still on the ground.
The same ground he had fallen on.
Nothing had changed.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
His body protested immediately. Pain flared from every direction sharp in his ribs, dull and heavy in his arm, a deep, pulsing ache in his head. Even breathing felt like a task his body resented.
He forced it anyway.
Slow. Shallow. Controlled.
Voices quieted.
Or maybe they had already been quiet.
Rowan's gaze shifted slightly, unfocused at first then steadying.
They were watching.
Knights stood scattered across the training yard, some pretending to continue their drills, others not bothering to hide their attention. Their eyes lingered on him measuring, curious, indifferent.
Not concern.
Never concern.
Just observation.
Like he was something to be assessed.
Rowan swallowed faintly, his throat dry.
So this is what it looks like…
Before the thought could settle
"Oh."
Enzo's voice cut through the stillness, light, almost amused.
"Well, look at that."
Rowan's gaze shifted slightly toward him.
Enzo stood a few steps away, arms loosely at his sides, expression unreadable for a brief second before that familiar smirk returned.
"He's still alive."
The words were directed at Colin, dripping with sarcasm, as if the outcome had barely been worth noting.
Colin didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained on Rowan, sharp and assessing.
Enzo exhaled softly, already turning away.
"Disappointing," he added under his breath not loud enough to be addressed, but not quiet enough to be missed.
And just like that
He left.
No hesitation. No second glance.
As if Rowan had already served his purpose.
Rowan lay there, unmoving, watching him go.
Pain throbbed through his body but beneath it, something else stirred.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Something colder.
I'll remember this.
Enzo's footsteps faded into the distance.
The weight of his absence lingered longer than his presence had.
Rowan remained on the ground, breathing slow, controlled, forcing his body to endure the pain without showing it. The eyes on him hadn't left. If anything, they had sharpened.
Then
A shadow fell over him.
Colin.
For a moment, the knight said nothing. His gaze moved over Rowan, quick but thorough, assessing the damage with practiced ease.
"…Can you stand?"
Rowan didn't answer immediately. Not because he didn't want to but because he genuinely didn't know.
He tried anyway.
His arm trembled as he pushed against the ground. Pain shot through his ribs, forcing a sharp breath from him. His body resisted, weak and uncooperative.
Before he could fall back
Colin stepped in.
A firm hand caught his arm, steadying him not gentle, but controlled.
"Don't force it," Colin said, his tone even. Not harsh. Not soft. Just… certain.
With Colin's support, Rowan managed to rise, though his legs wavered beneath him. The world tilted slightly before settling again.
He stood.
Barely.
Colin released him once he was sure Rowan wouldn't collapse immediately, though he remained close enough to catch him if needed.
"That's enough for today," Colin said, glancing briefly toward the rest of the yard before returning his attention to Rowan.
No announcement. No spectacle.
Just a decision.
"You'll rest," he continued. "And tend to those wounds before they get worse."
Rowan nodded faintly, his breath still uneven.
There was no mockery in Colin's voice. No hidden meaning. Just instruction.
Which, somehow, made it easier to accept.
Rowan adjusted his footing, forcing himself to remain upright without support. Every part of him ached, but he held himself steady.
"…Understood," he managed, voice rough.
Colin studied him for a second longer then gave a small nod.
"Go."
No more words.
No sympathy.
Just expectation.
Rowan turned slowly, each step heavy, deliberate. The eyes of the other knights followed him as he left the training yard, their attention lingering just a moment too long before returning to their drills.
The sounds of steel and movement rose behind him again, as if nothing had happened.
But for Rowan
Everything had changed.
Rowan didn't get far.
His steps slowed, uneven, each one heavier than the last. The distance from the barracks to the corridor felt longer than it should have been, the pain in his ribs flaring with every breath.
"…Sir."
Matthew's voice came quietly from beside him.
Rowan hadn't even noticed him approach.
Matthew stepped in without hesitation, taking hold of Rowan's arm not forceful, but steady, enough to keep him from collapsing under his own weight.
"You should not be walking alone in this condition," he said calmly.
Rowan let out a slow breath, too tired to argue. "…I'm fine."
Matthew didn't respond to that.
They walked in silence.
The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. Rowan focused on that rhythm step, breath, step anything to keep his mind from drifting back to the spar.
To Enzo.
To that moment.
Then
Matthew slowed.
Rowan felt it immediately. The subtle shift.
Something was wrong.
A figure stood ahead.
Still. Silent.
Cloaked.
The hood cast a deep shadow over their face, hiding everything but the faint outline of a jaw. The fabric of the cloak hung heavy dark, damp in places.
Rowan's eyes narrowed slightly.
Blood.
It wasn't fresh not entirely but it hadn't dried either. Dark stains spread across the cloak, uneven, as if soaked in layers.
The air felt… off.
Not heavier. Not lighter.
Just wrong.
Matthew didn't move forward.
For the first time since Rowan had met "him"
He hesitated.
The hooded figure tilted their head slightly.
A small movement.
But deliberate.
Rowan felt something crawl at the back of his neck.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Recognition…?
No.
Something else.
Something he couldn't name.
The figure didn't speak.
Didn't move closer.
Just stood there.
Watching.
Rowan swallowed faintly, his grip tightening unconsciously against Matthew's support. His body screamed at him to stay alert, despite the pain dragging him down.
Matthew finally spoke.
"…You shouldn't be here."
His tone was calm.
But firmer than usual.
The figure didn't respond.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then
They stepped aside.
Just enough to clear the path.
No words. No acknowledgment.
Just silence.
Matthew didn't linger.
He guided Rowan forward immediately, his pace slightly quicker now. Controlled but no longer relaxed.
Rowan glanced back once.
The figure hadn't moved.
Still standing there.
Still watching.
As if waiting.
For something.
Rowan's chest tightened faintly.
What… was that?
No answer came.
And somehow
That made it worse.
The door shut behind them with a dull thud.
Rowan exhaled the moment they were inside, the tension in his shoulders easing if only slightly. The room felt smaller now, safer, but the image of the cloaked figure lingered, sharp and intrusive.
Matthew guided him to the bed without a word.
"Sit."
Rowan did, wincing as the movement pulled at his ribs.
Matthew moved efficiently, already preparing cloth and water, his motions practiced, almost mechanical. He didn't ask permission just worked.
The first touch stung.
Rowan sucked in a breath as the damp cloth pressed against the cut on his shoulder, washing away dried blood.
Silence filled the room.
Too much silence.
Rowan frowned slightly. "…Who was that?"
Matthew didn't respond.
He continued cleaning the wound, steady, precise, as if the question hadn't been asked at all.
Rowan's jaw tightened faintly.
"I saw the blood," he pressed, voice rougher now. "That wasn't normal."
Still nothing.
Not even a glance.
Just the quiet sound of cloth against skin.
Rowan watched him, something shifting in his expression. Frustration. Curiosity. Unease.
"You hesitated," Rowan added. "Out there. You saw them and you"
"That will be enough."
Matthew's voice cut in. Calm.
But final.
Rowan fell silent.
Not because he wanted to but because something in the tone told him there was no point pushing further.
Matthew finished tending the wound, wrapping it tightly with practiced ease. Each motion was careful, controlled almost indifferent.
But not careless.
Never careless.
Rowan flexed his hand slightly, testing the bandage, then leaned back, eyes still on Matthew.
"…You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"
Matthew secured the last wrap, then stood.
"No."
Simple. Direct.
Nothing more.
Rowan let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a sigh and a bitter laugh.
"Figures."
Matthew turned toward the door, pausing only briefly.
"You should rest," he said. "Your body will not recover properly otherwise."
Advice. Not concern.
Then he opened the door.
And left.
Just like that.
The room fell silent again.
Rowan stared at the door for a long moment, the questions in his mind louder than ever.
The master.
The sigil.
The test.
And now
That figure.
His fingers tightened slightly against the sheets.
No answers.
Only more pieces.
Rowan exhaled slowly, letting his head fall back.
Sleep took him again.
Not gently.
It dragged him under.
Rowan woke with a sharp inhale.
His body tensed immediately, pain flaring through his ribs, his arm, his head but something else overpowered it.
Something worse.
His breath came uneven, his chest rising too fast, like he had been running again.
But this time
Something lingered.
Not the full dream. Not the fire. Not the feeling.
Just…
An image.
Rowan's eyes narrowed slightly, unfocused as he stared ahead.
A crow.
Black.
Still.
Its beak dipped downward slow, deliberate tearing into something soft.
Flesh.
Burnt.
He didn't see the woman. Not clearly. Just fragments charred skin, unmoving, lifeless beneath it.
Rowan's stomach twisted.
His hand tightened slightly against the sheets.
What… is that…?
The image pulsed in his mind, sharper than anything he had remembered before.
And then
The eye.
The crow's eye.
Red.
Not natural. Not reflective.
Glowing.
And within it
A shape.
Thin lines, branching outward, uneven, jagged
Like a spider.
No
Not like one.
It was one.
A symbol.
Carved. Etched. Embedded into the eye itself.
Rowan's breath caught.
His chest tightened, pain flaring again, but he barely noticed.
The image wouldn't leave.
The crow.
The flesh.
The eye.
That symbol.
His fingers trembled slightly.
Why do I remember this…?
It didn't feel like a dream.
Not entirely.
It felt…
Real.
Rowan forced himself to sit up slightly, wincing as his ribs protested. His mind raced, trying to hold onto the image before it slipped away like everything else.
But this time
It didn't fade completely.
It stayed.
Faint.
But present.
His gaze drifted toward the door, unfocused, distant.
The python sigil.
The master's ring.
And now
This.
Rowan's jaw tightened slightly.
These things… they're connected.
He didn't know how.
Didn't know why.
But for the first time
He had something real.
Something to follow.
Rowan sat there for a long moment, breathing uneven, eyes fixed on nothing.
The image was already slipping.
Not gone
But fading.
Blurring at the edges like ink soaked into water.
"No…" he muttered under his breath.
His hand moved before the thought fully formed.
He reached beside the bed, grabbing the nearest thing he could find a scrap of cloth, a dull piece of charcoal left near the hearth. Crude. Imperfect.
But enough.
He pressed the charcoal to the surface.
Paused.
Closed his eyes.
The eye… the red… the lines…
His hand began to move.
Slow at first. Hesitant.
A circle. Uneven.
He stopped.
"No… not like that…"
Rowan frowned, frustration flickering across his face. He adjusted, drawing again—this time focusing not on the shape as a whole, but on the feeling of it.
Jagged.
Sharp.
Wrong.
Lines spread outward from the center, thin and crooked, like legs but not quite symmetrical. Some longer. Some bent at unnatural angles.
His hand trembled slightly as he added more.
It didn't look right.
He scratched over part of it, darkening the lines, correcting angles, trying to match what his mind almost remembered.
It wasn't clean… it wasn't perfect… it felt… alive.
That thought made him pause.
Alive.
He swallowed.
Then finished it.
Rowan pulled his hand back slightly, staring down at what he had drawn.
It wasn't exact.
He knew that immediately.
But it was close enough.
Enough to make his chest tighten.
Enough to make something deep in his mind stir in quiet recognition.
The symbol stared back at him crooked, uneven, spider-like… but wrong in a way he couldn't explain.
His fingers tightened around the charcoal.
"…What are you?"
The question came out quieter than he expected.
No answer came.
Only silence.
But this time
The silence didn't feel empty.
It felt like something waiting.
Rowan's hand froze mid-air, the charcoal still hovering over the cloth. His chest tightened, eyes darting toward the door.
A sharp knock.
Three quick raps.
His heart skipped.
He dropped the paper under the bed, careful to keep it from view.
"Who…?" he whispered, though he knew better than to answer immediately.
The knock came again. Slightly heavier this time. Not the deliberate rhythm of a servant, nor the cautious tap of Matthew.
Rowan's stomach sank.
Impossible…
He crept toward the door, keeping the cloth pressed against his side, his hand trembling slightly.
When he opened it, there stood Enzo.
Casual. Smirking.
Arrogance radiating from him in waves. But there was something… different this time. Not mockery just… curiosity.
"You awake already?" Enzo said, voice light, almost teasing, as if he had stumbled into the room by accident.
Rowan swallowed. Words caught in his throat. His mind scrambled to decide should he lie? Should he hide? Should he… run?
The charcoal paper still pressed against his side.
And for the first time, Rowan realized Enzo might be the last person he wanted to see right now.
Rowan's hand tightened over the paper, still pressed against his chest. The morning unease lingered as the door creaked open.
Enzo appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, that usual smirk playing across his face. "Colin's ordered a meeting at the barracks," he said, voice light, teasing. "He's going to make an announcement."
Rowan froze, the words hitting him harder than he expected. "An announcement?" he managed, voice tight, still keeping the paper hidden.
Enzo's smirk deepened, eyes flicking briefly toward the paper, then back to Rowan. "That's what I said. Better get moving if you don't want to be late."
With that, Enzo pushed off the frame and left, the door closing softly behind him.
Rowan exhaled shakily, pressing the paper tighter against his side. An announcement… what could that mean? His mind raced, but there was no time to think further. He had to get to the barracks.
Rowan's steps echoed against the stone corridor as he made his way to the barracks. The paper pressed against his side felt heavier with each stride, a reminder of the thoughts he couldn't shake.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the distant clang of swords from early drills, but Rowan barely noticed. His mind raced over Enzo's words: an announcement… what could that mean?
He arrived at the barracks to find the courtyard already lined with knights. Some were sparring, others observing, their eyes flicking toward him as he entered. He felt every gaze, every silent measure, like a weight pressing him down.
Colin stood at the center, arms folded, his expression unreadable as he waited for silence to settle over the assembly. Rowan's stomach tightened. Something's happening… something I can't predict.
He edged forward, keeping to the back, scanning familiar faces Enzo pacing nearby, a smirk still playing across his features, clearly entertained by Rowan's visible tension. The other knights murmured softly among themselves, but all fell quiet when Colin finally spoke.
"This gathering," Colin began, voice carrying effortlessly across the yard, "is to announce"
Rowan froze mid-step, the words slicing through him like ice. Announce… what?