Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Two
The training glyph flared too early and Cassara jerked sideways as the barrier wall snapped into place half a second ahead of schedule, forcing her into an awkward dodge that nearly sent her sprawling.
The arc-light shimmered too fast, too sharp, and her ACS unit buzzed hot against her forearm like it had skipped a beat.
She caught herself with a grunt and rolled back onto her feet, breath sharp in her chest.
“Having trouble?” Liri asked, jogging over with her battle fans still spinning lazily around her wrists. Nym fluttered overhead, wings pulsing with a steady glow that made Cassara’s erratic readings look even more pronounced.
Cassara winced and tapped the control dial on her bracer. “That one wasn’t me. The glyph pulsed early.”
Rett, manning the illusion reset panel, looked up. “Didn’t touch anything.”
Before she could reply, Oliver was already making his way toward her, the loose strap of his Codex bag slung across one shoulder, brows drawn together. “That’s the third misfire this week.”
Cassara frowned. “It’s not my timing. It jumped ahead again. I barely made the dodge.”
“Could be harmonic interference,” he replied. “Beast signatures can destabilize if there’s a mismatch between the ACS calibration and actual output.”
Cassara looked at him hopefully. “Can you fix it?”
“Let me see.” He stopped in front of her and held out a hand, hesitant but focused. “If it’s misfiring this close to the match, we should check the diagnostics.”
She offered her wrist without argument, and Oliver crouched slightly to better inspect the runework etched into the ACS shell.
“Huh. That’s… unusual.”
“Bad unusual or interesting unusual?”
“Both.” Oliver’s frown deepened as he cycled through different diagnostic modes. “The latency buffer’s off again, and the projection flare is looping too early. That shouldn’t be happening unless your core sync is destabilizing.”
Cassara glanced toward the still-active glyph wall. “Is it something I did?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You haven’t changed your configuration in the last few days, right?”
“No.”
Oliver nodded slowly, thoughtful. “It’s not corrupted, but… it’s not stable either. Your beast data’s acting strange. Energy patterns keep shifting. Too many peaks and dips, like the signature can’t settle.”
Cassara tensed. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But I have a theory. It might be Flicker.”
Her brow furrowed. “What about him?”
“Well… his sync pattern isn’t consistent. It keeps adjusting—sometimes in tiny increments, sometimes in bursts. That could throw off your ACS readings if the system can’t keep up.”
“You think he’s doing it on purpose?”
“No. But it might be part of how he’s wired.
Or how he’s… evolving.” Oliver looked up at her, hesitant.
“The data spikes remind me of something I saw in some data records. There was a shapeshifter beast bonded to a third-year who had similar signature variance. Constant growth threw the system out of calibration unless they resynced almost daily.”
Cassara blinked. “So I’m going to need daily syncs?”
“Maybe not forever. But until I know more, it’s a possibility. I’ll take your ACS and run a few tests. I’m going to need to recalibrate your entire harmonic matrix. Maybe install some adaptive filters to smooth out the fluctuations.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Oliver.”
His ears flushed faintly, but he gave her a brisk nod and started unfastening the bracer with quick, careful fingers. “Try not to push too hard until I get this sorted. No more weird lunges into ghost walls, okay?”
She managed a wry smile. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m all numbers and logic. Fun terrifies me.”
But there was worry in his voice. And beneath it, an unease neither of them could name. Not yet.
Four days of training without her ACS had been torture.
Cassara felt disconnected from Flicker, clumsy with Spireglass, out of sync with everything that had finally started to feel natural.
Oliver had kept her updated with progress reports, adaptive algorithms, harmonic recalibration, predictive matrices, but the technical jargon only made her more anxious.
Now, on the morning of their match, the preparation room buzzed with pre-match energy, but Cassara’s attention was fixed on Oliver, who sat hunched over her ACS unit with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb.
Her ACS bracer sat in pieces across his lap, a fine scatter of copper-touched plating and rune-threaded wires gleaming in the overhead light.
“You’re sure it’s not going to short out mid-match?” Cassara asked.
“I’m sure if it does it won’t kill you,” he muttered.
“That’s hardly reassuring.”
Oliver didn’t look up. “If you’d rather fight with manual glyphs and no beast sync, I can reattach the casing right now and we can both panic quietly.”
“Fine,” she said, flopping onto the bench again, but her knee kept bouncing.
Around them, the rest of the team was going through their final preparations.
Gideon checked Lockstep’s defensive matrices while his griffin preened its storm-colored feathers.
Liri practiced quick-draw maneuvers with Nimbrush, her moth providing gentle pulses of calming light.
Barrett methodically inspected Gravemaul’s weight distribution, Skelli coiled nearby in patient readiness.
Even Verena seemed focused, running Whispercoil through its extension sequences while Kaddock rumbled with barely contained energy.
“Oliver,” Gideon’s voice carried a note of warning. “Five minutes to deployment.”
“I know, I know!” Oliver’s hands moved with practiced precision, making final calibrations. “The resonance patterns were more complex than I anticipated. Her beast’s signature keeps shifting, so I had to build in predictive algorithms to—”
“English, please,” Liri called out, though her voice held more amusement than impatience.
“Done,” Oliver said suddenly.
Cassara blinked. “Really?”
He held out the newly restored ACS. “Mostly. I’ve rerouted the sync to a modulated channel. It won’t fix Flicker’s fluctuations, but it’ll give the system a moment to breathe between surges. Might delay his response time by half a second. You’ll feel it.”
“Will I?”
He gave her a flat look. “You’ll either notice it, or the match will go great and I’ll pretend I was a genius.”
Cassara smirked and strapped it on. “Genius it is.”
What followed was perhaps their smoothest arena performance yet. The terrain, a series of floating platforms connected by narrow bridges, should have favored their opponents’ ranged specialists, but Auric Vow moved like a single organism across the battlefield.
Each member slid into position without the need for orders. Gideon launched first, his griffin streaking overhead, wind trailing in slicing arcs that disrupted their opponents’ positioning.
Rett’s raptor flanked hard left and drove two enemy tamers into a trap line Oliver had already seeded. Liri darted through the chaos, Nym’s light blinding and disorienting, disrupting shield glyphs and leaving the enemy wide open.
And Cassara… Cassara felt like she was flying. Spireglass responded to her every thought, creating afterimages that confused and misdirected their opponents and teleporting her seamlessly, putting her exactly where she needed to be to tip the balance in their favor.
Flicker, meanwhile, seemed content to observe from various perches around the arena, occasionally absorbing stray attacks with his usual casual indifference.
To outside observers, he appeared to be doing very little.
But Cassara could feel his presence through their bond, steady, supportive, ready to act if truly needed.
And just like that, it was over.
The final beacon flared gold in their favor. The opposing team fell back, panting, bruised, but not broken. They knew it. Everyone watching knew it.
Auric Vow had dominated.
“Drinks tonight?” Liri suggested as they gathered in the center of the arena, still breathless from exertion but glowing with triumph.
“Absolutely,” Gideon agreed, his rare smile making an appearance. “We’ve earned it.”
Even Verena seemed genuinely pleased, her usual edge softened by the satisfaction of a perfect performance.
“Not bad,” she said, which, from her, was high praise.
As they filed off the arena floor to the cheers of the watching students, Cassara caught Auren’s eye in the instructor’s section. His nod was subtle, professional, but she caught the pride flickering behind his carefully controlled expression.
The next morning frost coated the training yard, the air carrying a chill that promised of encroaching winter.
The team moved through drills in near-perfect sync, Gideon calling out rotations, Rett locking formation, Liri darting between simulated cover as her moth cast sweeping light to mimic evasive flares.
Cassara’s glaive spun in a blur, her ACS humming steady against her wrist.
“Let’s reset for the beacon run,” Gideon said. “Cassara, flank on—”
The sound of approaching bootsteps broke the rhythm.
Auren and Nareen strode across the yard, flanked by a third figure in uniform-gray robes. The academy tech, instantly recognizable by the silver insignia gleaming at his collar, carried a reinforced case and a neutral expression that screamed problem.
Her first instinct was to smile, to catch Auren’s eye the way she had yesterday after their victory. But when his gaze swept across the assembled team, it passed over her without the slightest flicker of acknowledgment. No subtle nod. No hint of warmth. Nothing.
Not a single glance.
Cassara’s heartbeat kicked up.
Gideon stepped forward, tension rolling off his shoulders. “Instructors. We weren’t scheduled for oversight today.”
“We need to speak with Cassara Allencourt,” Nareen said, and there was something in her tone that made every member of the team go still.
Cassara’s mouth went dry. “I’m here.”