The hall had settled into that quiet that came after effort.
Not silence. The soft scrape of a broom across concrete, the faint rattle of equipment being stacked back into its place, Chloe dragging something heavier than she needed to with more force than necessary. It was the sound of a session ending, the work done but not quite left behind.
Adam moved the broom in steady lines, pushing dust and chalk residue into a narrowing strip along the wall. His shoulders were tighter than the motion required, each pass a little more deliberate than it should have been.
Just say it.
He didn't yet.
"I've been thinking," he said instead, eyes on the floor as he guided the broom forward.
Chloe didn't look up. "That's already a bad start."
Aiva glanced between them, then back to the shelves where she was aligning practice weights, but her attention stayed on Adam.
He kept sweeping. "I went through everything again. The notes. The stuff you gave me." He nudged a small pile into the growing line. "Two pages of crossed-out techniques. Nothing has stuck. Not even close."
Chloe snorted softly under her breath.
"The basics are the basics," Adam continued. "I've got those. I can move. I can take a hit. I can give one back." He shifted the broom, pushing the line tighter against the wall. "But that's it."
He paused just long enough to let the next part land where it needed to.
"I'm a werewolf first. That's what I am. Maybe that's enough."
Chloe answered immediately, the words already loaded. "Yeah. Probably smart." She straightened, brushing her hands together. "I mean, I've been saying that since day one. You're not built for this magic stuff."
Adam nodded once, like he'd expected it. "Right."
Chloe took a step toward the rack, reaching for another piece of equipment, then stopped.
She looked at him properly.
He wasn't arguing. He wasn't pushing back or making it a joke or trying to sell it like a temporary decision. He was just… there. Standing in it. Finished with the conversation before it had even started.
"Oh," she said, quieter, the word slipping out before she caught it.
Aiva's hands stilled on the shelf.
Chloe frowned slightly, like something had shifted under her feet and she hadn't agreed to it. She rolled her shoulders once, then tried again.
"Wait. You're actually serious?"
Adam met her eyes for a second, then went back to the floor. "Yeah."
"That's it? You're just done?"
He pushed the last of the dust into place. "I think so."
Chloe let out a breath through her nose, sharp and uneven. "God, you're… you're actually doing it." She ran a hand through her hair, then pointed at him like that might help her organize the thought. "I mean, yeah, you're an idiot, obviously, and you've been a problem since you walked in here, but—"
She stopped, grimaced, then pushed through it anyway.
"But it is going to be boring without you." The words came faster now, less controlled. "Like, really boring. You're the only one I can throw around without feeling bad about it, and now what, I have to be under the mercy of her all the time? That sounds awful." she pointed to AIva
Adam huffed a small laugh despite himself.
Chloe latched onto that, like it justified continuing. "And also, you've got… something." She waved her hand vaguely, clearly irritated at herself. "I don't know what it is and I don't care enough to figure it out, but it's there. And it's annoying."
She dropped her hand, looking at the floor now. "So yeah. You quitting is… dumb."
The last word came out quieter than the rest.
Adam leaned the broom against the wall, the decision still sitting where he'd left it. "I appreciate that."
Chloe clicked her tongue. "Don't make it weird."
"I'm not," he said. "I'm just saying thanks."
Aiva stepped forward before the moment could settle into something final.
"Stop."
The word landed clean, cutting through the room without raising her voice.
Adam looked at her.
"I know something that might change your mind," she said, already moving toward the table where she'd left grimoires earlier.
There was something in the way she said it. Not just instruction. Not just another attempt to teach him.
More.
She flipped the book open, fingers moving quickly across the pages. "I was going to wait until you had a better handle on your basics, but…" She frowned, scanning. "No, it's here. It has to be here."
Chloe folded her arms, watching. "You're about to do something dumb, aren't you."
"Probably," Aiva said, still searching. "But it might work."
Adam shifted his weight. "You're not exactly selling this."
Aiva paused, then exhaled once, closing the book halfway. "Okay. Fine. I'll do it from memory."
Adam blinked. "That doesn't make me feel better."
She looked up at him, expression firm. "Man up and relax."
Chloe snorted. "Yeah, that always works."
Aiva ignored her, stepping closer to Adam. "Stand still."
He did, though his shoulders tightened slightly.
The first contact wasn't a touch.
It was pressure.
Warm, insistent, slipping into him in a way that didn't match any physical sensation he knew. It moved along something beneath his skin, following paths he had never been aware of, tracing lines that felt both unfamiliar and completely natural at the same time.
Like heat finding cracks.
He stiffened before he could stop himself.
Okay. That's… new.
From the outside, the change was subtle at first. A faint amber glow began to trace beneath his skin, soft and diffused, spreading in branching patterns down his arms and across his neck. It pulsed gently, each line connecting to the next in a network that was too deliberate to be random.
Chloe leaned forward without meaning to, her usual composure slipping just enough to show it.
Aiva's hands moved slowly, guiding the flow, her focus narrowing.
Then she pulled back.
The light came with her.
It didn't snap away. It flowed, smooth and continuous, gathering between her hands as it left his body. The strands coalesced in the air, forming something structured, something whole.
A three-dimensional lattice hovered between her palms.
It looked like a nervous system stripped clean and made visible. Filaments branched outward in complex patterns, each line connected, each junction precise. It held the organic irregularity of something grown and the sharp intentionality of something designed.
Like roots pulled from the earth with every thread intact.
Adam stared at it. "That's inside me?"
The words came out flatter than he expected.
It wasn't fear.
It was something else. The discomfort of seeing something private made visible. Something that had always been his, now external and legible.
Aiva shifted her stance, beginning the second incantation. Her voice dropped slightly, the rhythm of the words tightening as her hands moved in a controlled, circular motion around the structure.
The lattice began to contract.
Not collapsing. Condensing. The complexity folding inward, preserving itself as it compressed, tightening into a smaller and smaller form until it flattened into a circular disc suspended between her hands.
Its surface shimmered, etched with markings that shifted too quickly to fully read, like a language that refused to hold still. At the center, a single glyph pulsed with a warm amber-orange glow.
It carried the quiet presence of heat.
Not a flame. Not yet.
Something waiting.
Aiva didn't pause. She turned toward the grimoire, murmuring a third incantation as the disc rotated in place. The book lifted from the table, pages riffling rapidly, too fast for the eye to follow.
"It's reading you," she said, eyes tracking both at once. "The disc is your lattice. The book is cross-referencing it against known affinities."
Adam watched the pages blur. "For my body."
"Exactly."
The motion slowed. Stopped.
The book dropped.
Aiva caught it in both hands, already scanning the open page.
"Found it! Pyromancy," she said. "Fire."
The word settled into the space between them.
Adam let out a short breath. "You're kidding."
She didn't look up. "I'm not."
He looked back at the disc, at the central glyph still pulsing with that steady warmth.
Fire.
It didn't feel obvious.
It didn't feel wrong either.
Aiva lowered the book, her attention returning to him. "Don't quit."
There was no lead-in. No explanation.
Just that.
"I can teach you this," she continued, voice steady but carrying something underneath it. "Properly. The best I can."
Adam met her gaze, holding it for a moment longer than he had before.
"Okay," he said. "One more shot."
Chloe made a face, turning away. "Jesus. Get a room."
Aiva smiled faintly, then glanced back at the grimoire.
Chloe hesitated, then looked at her again. "Wait. How do you even know all that?" She gestured at the book, then the space where the lattice had been. "Some of that takes years. Like, actual years."
Aiva shrugged lightly. "Talent."
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "When did you start learning? When you were one?"
Aiva laughed, easy and quick. "Something like that."
The word lingered in her own mind longer than she expected.
Talent.
She reached for something behind it. A starting point. A memory that should have been there.
She hit something solid.
Not empty. Not missing.
Blocked.
The harder she pressed, the more resistance she felt, a dull pressure building behind her eyes that made her pull back instinctively.
Not now.
She let it go.
"Goodnight," Chloe said, already moving toward the stairs.
Adam followed, pausing only long enough to glance once more at where the disc had been.
Aiva stayed behind a moment longer, closing the grimoire and setting it carefully on the table.
She turned off the lights.
The room dropped into darkness, the outlines of the equipment fading into shadow.
She stepped toward the exit, then stopped.
Warmth touched her upper lip.
Faint. Unexpected.
She lifted her hand and brushed it lightly.
Her fingers came away red as she stared at them in the dark.