Seeing another human, Ian was first surprised, then remembered the mention of a new instructor. High Scholar Durlan had brought it up during their last meeting.
Master Elara's voice rang clear through quiet space. "This is High Scholar Yeonelyth, the new instructor who will be joining us starting today."
With that said, Ian finally allowed himself to take a closer look at her.
It was… strange. At first glance, she looked entirely normal, plain, almost. Medium-length dark hair, calm eyes, simple robes in muted tones. But the longer he stared, the harder it became to hold on to that first impression.
Something about her felt off, not wrong, just… misaligned.
Like the world hadn't finished rendering. The air near her seemed quieter somehow, like sound knew to hold its breath. And though no one else seemed to notice, Ian felt it: a kind of stillness that came before thunder, or after something vast had passed unseen.
Her presence sat too neatly in the room, like a prop in a stage play. She looked human the way a reflection does in water, faithful to the original but subtly warped. One moment, she was entirely forgettable. The next, she became the most interesting person in the room.
Ian found himself watching too long. His fingers brushed against the edge of his sleeve, the subconscious instinct to utilize his Mindbloom flickering at the back of his mind. But something stopped him. A quiet feeling. Like standing near the edge of a cliff and realizing the wind had teeth.
Meanwhile, Elara continued speaking, gesturing calmly from one face to the next. "This is Solana… over there, Taegen… and this is.. Ian."
He blinked. Realized her eyes were on him now.
"Ohh… you're Ian," she said, voice calm, light. No judgment, no weight, just the kind of acknowledgment that somehow felt more intimate than it should have.
Ian gave a faint nod. "Nice to meet you, High Scholar Yeonelyth."
She smiled, small, easy. "Oh please, you don't have to be so formal. Call me Yeon. We'll be working together, after all."
And then, almost like an afterthought, she added a wink.
It wasn't flirtatious. It wasn't rehearsed. It just was, like it had always been part of the moment and the moment had been waiting for it.
Ian didn't know what to make of it. He just returned the smile and let it lie.
The introductions moved on, others leaning in, offering polite nods, and soon, both Yeonelyth and Master Elara took their leave.
Ian found himself watching Yeonelyth as she walked away, a strange feeling settling in his chest. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
He tried to recall what she looked like or what wore, but for some strange reason, his mind drew a blank. Despite his photographic memory, he couldn't seem to recall any specific details about her appearance. It was as if, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't picture her clearly in his mind. Even the faintest image of what she had worn escaped him.
He didn't like that. Not one bit.
The next day, Ian was at his workstation as usual, surrounded by tangled projection threads and scattered notes. He was reviewing the latest data on one of his experiments when Dilya softly called out...
"Ian.... High Scholar Yeonelyth asked if you're free right now to meet her."
Ian looked up, a little surprised. He figured she would reach out eventually, after all, according to High Scholar Durlan, his work was one of the main reasons for her presence here.
But asking? Personally? Since when did a third-order High Scholar get that polite?
Still, he just nodded. "I'm free now. I'll go there and see her."
Ian made his way to the designated chamber. Yeonelyth was already there.
She stood near one of the side consoles, examining a fragmented core with mild interest. Her back was to him, loose strands of hair falling around her neck, the rest pulled up in a half-tied knot. She moved slowly, unbothered, like time was a courtesy extended only to her.
And again, that feeling.
It was subtle, but absolute. Like some part of the world had simply... accepted her as untouchable. Not through fear or reverence, but some older instinct. Something unspoken, buried deep. A kind of innate refusal to intrude.
He'd asked Myrra and others about it later, carefully, subtly, trying to see if it was just him. But no, to everyone else, she was just another scholar. Respected, sure. Impressive, yes. But nothing strange. Nothing beyond.
It made no sense. It doesn't see like an illusion. It was like she existed one layer above the rest of reality. Not watching from afar, but here, completely, but in a way that didn't belong.
If anything, he should be more cautious, and yet… he wasn't. And that thought disturbed him more.
If she really was something like that… then why was she here?
If someone like her wanted anything they could take it. He probably wouldn't even realize it was gone.
Ian shook the thought off and stepped closer.
"High Scholar Yeonelyth."
She turned.
A small smile touched her lips. Not dramatic, not grand, but for a second, it felt like the entire room had shifted. Like someone had opened a window inside reality and sunlight had spilled through.
"Call me Yeon," she said softly, voice lilting, calm. And just like that, the tension scattered, like dust under light.
It brought him back. Grounded him. But he still couldn't quite speak.
She stepped closer to him, gaze locked. Then, gently, unexpectedly, she reached up, fingers warm against his cheek, and tilted his face up, just slightly.
Her eyes met his.
And this time, he saw them.
They didn't glow. They didn't shimmer. But they saw. Not with focus, but with understanding. Like she'd already lived this moment a dozen times and remembered each one. There was something eternal in her eyes, something dreamlike in the way her shadow didn't quite align with the light.
She looked into him, not past him.
"Sometimes," she murmured, "seeing truth isn't a good thing."
Then, softly, almost like it was a different conversation entirely, she added,
"You have pretty eyes."
She didn't say anything more. Just turned back around, quiet as before.
Ian blinked. He felt something, just faintly, in his eyes, a strange tingle behind them. But then, it passed. Everything felt normal again. Almost.
"Now now…" Yeon said, voice calm, back still turned toward him, "could you brief me on what's been done so far?"
Ian explained, clearly, concisely, outlining their progress, the work he was doing, where things stood. She didn't interrupt. Just listened, still, head tilted slightly as if catching every detail in the spaces between his words.
And when he was done, she offered a few thoughts of her own.
Short. Precise. So uncannily aligned with the direction he was going that it startled him a little. Not suggestions for the sake of it, these were real insights. The kind that didn't just build on what he was doing, but anticipated the steps ahead.
Durlan had always been sharp, experienced. He could navigate Ian's questions with ease. But Yeonelyth didn't navigate. She just… knew. It felt less like advice and more like a hand gently placing the next piece in the puzzle that Ian hadn't realized was even missing.
Eventually, she stepped away brushing past him. "Well then," she said, eyes catching his for a second, "see you tomorrow."
And then, with a small motion, almost a wave, almost something else, she brought her fingers to her lips and released a light, playful kiss in the air.
Ian blinked. Speechless again. He gave a faint bow and left, unsure if he was supposed to say anything at all.
Back at the research facility, something felt different.
He could remember her now. Clearly. Her face, her voice, the way she'd looked at him. No gaps. No haze. Everything vivid.
Ian frowned slightly, staring at the far wall as the realization sank in.
"What happened to me…?"
He rubbed at his temple. Maybe it was the after affect of advancement. Maybe too much use of Mindbloom lately.
Or maybe… something else.
He pushed the thought aside. Finished up some notes. Then headed out. There was a ranking match scheduled for the evening, he'd heard whispers about it earlier and figured he should watch one up, they happened rarely. Plus it wouldn't hurt to see how he stacked up against the top tiers now that he is first order himself.
As he stepped out, he spotted Rhys, Reina, and Varian ahead of him. They looked like they were headed the same way.
Ian slid in beside Rhys. "Didn't think you were the arena match type."
Rhys glanced back. "Well need arises. Thought you'd be there already."
Ian shrugged. "Didn't know it was anything special."
Rhys gave him a strange look. "You don't know who the challenger is?"
Ian shook his head.
Rhys slowed a little, almost surprised. "It's Cairon."
Ian stopped walking.
He hadn't expected that name.
He hadn't forgotten about him, had even tried digging into the guy before. But there wasn't much to find. Nothing concrete. Rhys had once mentioned he wasn't First Order yet, and yet now... not only had he advanced, but he was challenging the ranked ones?
Something about that didn't add up.
They made their way to the arena in quiet steps, the usual chatter subdued under the weight of expectation. The crowd hadn't fully gathered yet, but the tension already hung in the air.
Cairon was already there.
He stood alone near the center platform, not posturing, not acknowledging the growing crowd. Just waiting. His coat was sharp as ever, dark fabric trimmed in muted silver, tailored with the same precision as last time. It still hinted at wealth, restraint, taste. But now, there was something else.
He didn't look different. And yet, he felt it.
Ian narrowed his eyes, letting Mindbloom slowly unfold.
Something was different.
The energy around Cairon, it wasn't loud or chaotic. It was tightly held, condensed. Familiar in the way that made Ian instinctively cautious. A presence he'd felt before, but couldn't place. Not exactly. Just... close.
And strong.
This wasn't the same Cairon from before. He looked the same. But something had changed.
And Ian couldn't tell what. Or how.
Before he could dig deeper, the arena shifted again.
Volon had arrived.
One of the top five, Ian had seen him before. The moment his Skyrnox descended in a spiral of air and glimmering hoarfrost, the crowd stirred. He rode with his usual arrogance, posture relaxed, like he owned the air itself. His long green hair streamed behind him like a banner, glinting under the evening sun. He landed with a soft thud, dismounted in a single motion, and looked down at Cairon with thinly veiled boredom.
"So you're the one," Volon said, voice low and unimpressed.
Cairon nodded, polite. "Thank you for agreeing to the match..."
Volon cut him off with a slight gesture. "Don't bother. Let's just get this over with. I have more important things to do today."
The dismissal was sharp, but Cairon didn't flinch. His posture remained respectful, hands by his side, head slightly bowed. No challenge. No reaction.
Almost instantly, the referee appeared at the center, his arrival barely more than a flicker of motion. Ian recognized him, he was Ian's instructor from the combat class.
He looked at them once, bored. "I won't go over the rules. You already know. If you don't, ask me. Or better, read on your own."
He paused just long enough to make it awkward.
"Any objections?"
No one replied.
"Good." He stepped back, vanishing from between them in the blink of an eye.
The match began.
Volon raised a hand lazily, beckoning. "Come on."
Cairon didn't waste time.
He bowed slightly. "Then I'll be rude."
The instant the words left his mouth, he moved.
A blur, clean, direct, sharp. The kind of speed that made people forget to breathe. In a single flash, he was on Volon, strike aimed straight for his center.
Volon's arm snapped up, catching the blow one-handed. He looked at Cairon now, really looked.
"Well," he muttered, flexing his hand. "You've got some power. I'll give you that."