I train alone because silence doesn't interrupt anger.
Every strike is tighter than it needs to be.
Every turn sharper. l'm not warming up—I'm working something out of my body.
Xavier's voice won't leave me alone. Not the volume. The certainty. The way he spoke like my failure was already written.
So l hit harder.
l count breaths the way l used to count his approval—and come up empty.
The courtyard is empty because l couldn't stand being seen like this—furious, tight, unraveling. Xavier's words cling to me like wet ash.
Calm.
Certain.
Final.
l tell myself this isn't about him.
And yet every blow says his name.
Dawn hasn't fully arrived when the whisper finds me.
"You swing like someone who wants to forget."
I stumbles back, my heart pounding. "No. No, you're not real. It was just a dream."
The courtyard ripples. The shadows at the edge stretch inward, drawing shapes that shouldn't exist — like draping sheets being pulled by invisible strings.
A cloaked figure materializes between blinks. Not walking. Not forming.
Just appearing.
The same faceless hood. Same silence that feels like it's waiting for my heartbeat to break.
"Dreams are the easiest doorway."
A pause.
"But waking minds… oh, they taste far more interesting."
I lifts my hands defensively even though I knows can't hit him. "What do you want from me?"
"Want?"
A soft chuckle under the cloak.
"You misunderstand. I am only showing you what you're afraid to admit."
The courtyard flickers—Xavier's voice cuts through my mind again, colder this time.
He expects you to fail.
The words don't echo.
They sink.
l spin. "Shut up."
The air bends. Stone ripples. Shadows stretch long and thin, dragging themselves toward me like they've been starving.
He's there.
No footsteps.
No warning.
Just the cloak. The hood. The absence of a face—like even reality refuses to look at him.
"You came here alone because you know the truth."
My grip tightens. "I came to train."
A low, delighted laugh
"No. You came to punish yourself."
The courtyard flickers.
Xavier's voice slices through my head again—not loud, not cruel. Controlled. Dismissive.
You're not ready.
The shadows hold it up like a trophy.
"He didn't doubt you."
A pause. Precise.
"He finished you."
Something hot burns behind my eyes.
"I'll prove him wrong," l say.
The cloak tilts, as if he's studying a crack in glass.
"Of course you will."
Then, quieter. Kinder. Deadlier.
"But tell me—if you fail… who will you blame when he's right?"
The silence that follows isn't empty.
It's listening.
"I said"I breath out "shut up!!"
"Just shut up!" I snapped.
Silence answered me.
I turned—and Astraea was standing there, staring.
"I barely said anything," she said carefully.
"I—" I exhaled, rubbing my face. "I'm sorry. It wasn't you. I was talking to him."
I pointed.
Astraea followed my finger, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
My chest tightened. "He's right there."
She looked again. Then back at me.
"There's no one there."
I swallowed. "No .he is. He's just… there."
Astraea didn't respond. She just watched me, concern slowly settling in.
I couldn't stand it.
I turned and walked away before she could say anything else.