Arden Hayes sat on the edge of his dorm bed, the faint glow of the hall clock seeping through the crack under his door. He stared at the metronome on his desk, its needle swinging back and forth tick, tick, tick, like it was taunting him. His hands still trembled from the courtyard training earlier that day, where he'd fractured time again. The cracked pillar flashed in his mind: a jagged split, a ripple in reality, and Professor Marrow's icy glare. Ten seconds, he'd held the stop for ten seconds, but it wasn't enough. Not when pushing past five always ended in chaos.
A sharp knock jolted him out of his thoughts. "Hayes, you alive in there?" Jaxon Reed's voice, lazy but loud, cut through the silence.
Arden sighed and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Jaxon leaning against the frame, his uniform jacket slung over one shoulder like he couldn't be bothered to wear it properly. The hall clock behind him read 8:47 PM, its ticks echoing faintly.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Jaxon said, stepping inside without an invite. He flopped into the desk chair, spinning it once. "Still beating yourself up over that pillar?"
"Not beating myself up," Arden mumbled, dropping back onto his bed. "Just… figuring it out."
"Same thing," Jaxon said with a shrug. He kicked his feet up onto the desk, ignoring Arden's half-hearted glare. "Marrow's always mad, dude. And Mira? She'll get over it. She doesn't hold grudges well, not forever."
"Maybe," Arden said, unconvinced. He pushed his glasses up, rubbing his temples. "I stopped time fine last night, ten seconds, no ripple. But in class, it's like I choke. Panic sets in, and bam, fracture."
Jaxon tilted his head, considering. "Maybe you're overthinking it. You're clutch when it's real, like that dodgeball save. Maybe you need stakes, not drills."
"Stakes?" Arden snorted. "Last time I had 'stakes,' I almost took Mira's head off."
"Almost," Jaxon said, grinning. "Key word. You've got power, Hayes. More than most newbies. Even Mira said it, in her grumpy way."
"She said I'm a disaster," Arden corrected, voice dry.
"Same difference." Jaxon waved a hand. "You just need to chill when you weave. Stop freaking out."
"Easier said than done," Arden muttered. He glanced at the metronome again, its rhythm steady where his wasn't. "Maybe I need less power, more control."
"Or," Jaxon said, eyes glinting, "you need a real test. No Marrow, no rules. Midnight, courtyard, you and me. Bet I can make you hold that stop without cracking anything."
"You're nuts," Arden said, but a flicker of curiosity sparked. "If we get caught, Marrow'll skin us."
"Then don't get caught," Jaxon said, standing and stretching. "Think about it. I've got rewinds to practice anyway. Dinner?"
"Yeah," Arden said, watching Jaxon saunter out. A rematch sounded reckless, stupid even but part of him wanted it. Not just to win, but to prove he wasn't a walking fracture.
He grabbed the metronome, setting it on his lap. One more try. He focused on the needle, breathing deep, and reached for his spark. Time froze clean, silent, the tick gone. One, two, three… he counted to ten, steady, no shimmer. Time resumed, the needle swinging back into motion.
Arden exhaled, a faint smile breaking through. Maybe Jaxon had a point. Maybe he just needed the right push.
The dining hall hummed with noise, students laughing and clattering trays. Arden slid into a seat next to Jaxon, who was already halfway through a mountain of pasta. Across the table, Mira Kline poked at a salad, her dark eyes flicking up as Arden sat.
"Hey," Arden said, awkward. "Arm okay?"
"Fine," Mira replied, her tone short but not harsh. She didn't seem angry, just… guarded. "You?"
"Still here," Arden said, grabbing a roll from the basket. "Sorry again about the ball. I'm trying to fix it."
"I know," Mira said, her expression softening slightly. "Just don't push too hard. Fractures aren't small stuff."
"Yeah, I'm learning," Arden said, tearing the roll apart. "Got any tricks? You're always so… steady."
Mira shrugged, nudging a piece of lettuce. "I don't force it. Time's like water you guide it, it flows. Push too hard, it breaks."
"Deep," Jaxon chimed in, mouth full. "You're a poet, Kline.
"Mira shot him a look, but her lips twitched. "Maybe. Better than your advice."
"Rude," Jaxon said, grinning. "But fair."
Arden laughed, the knot in his chest loosening. "Guide it, huh? I'll try that."
"First tip: ignore Reed," Mira said, and Jaxon nearly choked on his pasta, snorting.
"Cold," he wheezed. "I'm wounded."
Arden smirked, the banter lifting his mood. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he felt. Mira's words stuck with him guide it, don't force it. Simple, but maybe it was the key.
Lila Voss slid into the seat beside Mira, her tray stacked with cake and cookies. "Heard about your fracture show, Hayes. Marrow's still steaming."
"Awesome," Arden groaned, slumping. "Exactly what I need."
"Chill," Lila said, digging into her cake. "He's always steaming. You're not the first to break something ask Jaxon about the clock tower."
Jaxon winced, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, let's not."
"Point is," Lila went on, "you're figuring it out. Just don't make it a trend. Fractures draw attention bad attention."
"Like hunters?" Arden asked, voice low.
Lila's fork paused, her green eyes sharpening. "Yeah. Rogues or their lackeys. They track sparks like us. Either they want you on their side, or…" She shrugged, taking a bite. "Off the board."
"Off the board?" Arden pressed, stomach tightening.
"Permanently," Mira said quietly, staring at her plate.
Arden's roll dropped to his tray. "As in… dead?"
"Pretty much," Lila said, casual as if she were discussing the weather. "So, y'know, keep it quiet. Fractures are like a dinner bell."
"No pressure," Arden muttered, pushing his plate away. "Guess I'll stick to practicing in my room."
"Smart," Lila said, winking. "For now."
The table shifted to lighter topics, Jaxon joking, Mira snarking but Arden's mind lingered on hunters. His fractures weren't just slip-ups; they were signals. And with that cloaked figure he'd seen last night, maybe the signal had already been picked up.
Later, Arden lay awake, the clock glowing 11:55 PM. Jaxon's words looped in his head midnight, no rules. Dumb idea. Risky idea. But better than stewing here, imagining hunters in every shadow.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed his jacket, and muttered, "Screw it," slipping into the hall.
The courtyard was still, moonlight glinting off the pillars. Jaxon lounged against a bench, tossing a rubber ball between his hands. He grinned as Arden approached. "Knew you'd show."
"Don't make me regret it," Arden said, adjusting his glasses. "What's the plan?"
"Easy," Jaxon said, catching the ball. "You stop, I rewind. First hit wins. No fractures, or you owe me breakfast."
"Fine," Arden said, a thrill cutting through his nerves. "Go."
Jaxon threw a quick, hard shot. Arden grabbed his spark, time halting sharp and clean. He sidestepped, threw back, and released. Jaxon rewound just in time, the ball snapping back to Arden's hand.
"Not bad," Jaxon said, launching another. Arden stopped again, but a faint ripple flickered, his focus wobbled, head throbbing. Time resumed early, and Jaxon's ball clipped his arm.
"Point one," Jaxon called, smirking. "Mind the ripple."
"I noticed," Arden growled, shaking it off. "Again."
They traded shots, stops, rewinds, dodges each round faster, sharper. Arden leaned into Mira's advice, guide it and the ripples faded, his stops smoothing out. On the fifth throw, he landed a solid hit on Jaxon's shoulder, no fracture, no waver.
"Gotcha," Arden said, panting, a grin breaking through.
Jaxon rubbed his shoulder, laughing. "Alright, Dodgeball, you're getting it. One more?"
Before Arden could reply, a voice sliced through the dark low, cold. "Impressive. But careless."
They whirled, adrenaline spiking. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall, cloaked, face obscured. The same one from last night, Arden realized, dread pooling in his gut.
"Who're you?" Jaxon snapped, stepping up, but Arden grabbed his arm.
"Don't," he hissed. "It's a hunter."
The figure stood still, its voice a murmur. "You're loud, Arden Hayes. Your fractures call. Our master listens."
"Your master?" Arden's voice wavered, but he held his ground. "What do you want?"
"A choice," it said. "Join us, or be silenced. Your power's wasted here."
"Join you?" Jaxon scoffed. "Hard pass."
The figure's hood shifted, almost amused. "This isn't your fight, rewinder."
"Too bad," Jaxon said, and before Arden could stop him, he hurled the ball, fast, aimed at the chest. The air shimmered, the ball freezing mid-flight, inches from the cloak.
Arden's breath hitched. It could weave too.
"Foolish," the figure whispered. It flicked a wrist, and the ball rewound, slamming into Jaxon's gut. He doubled over, gasping.
"Jax!" Arden rushed to him, but the figure advanced, its aura heavy, oppressive.
"Last chance, Hayes," it said. "Come, or we take you."
Panic clawed at Arden, but seeing Jaxon hurt sparked something fiercer, anger. "I'm not going," he said, steadier now. "And you're not taking me.
"The figure paused, then sighed. "As you wish."
It raised a hand, the air crackling with a weave Arden couldn't grasp. But a shout broke the tension, sharp, familiar.
"Hayes!" Lila Voss sprinted from the courtyard's edge, her spark flaring as she glimpsed the future. "Down!"
Arden yanked Jaxon flat, a blast of temporal energy tearing through where they'd been. The figure hissed, turning to Lila, but she was already weaving, dodging with preternatural grace.
"Run!" she yelled, countering another attack. "Now!"Arden hauled Jaxon up, his friend wheezing but moving. They bolted for the dorms, Lila's fight fading behind them, cracks, shimmers, a chaos of sparks.
They stumbled into the hall, slamming the door and collapsing against it. Jaxon slid down, clutching his stomach. "That… was awful."
"You okay?" Arden gasped, chest heaving."Great," Jaxon croaked, forcing a grin. "Guess we're square on breakfast."
Arden laughed, ragged but real. The hunter's words lingered, join or be silenced, but so did his own: I'm not going. Fear still buzzed, but something else did too. Resolve.
"Next time," he said, helping Jaxon up, "we're not alone."
"Next time," Jaxon muttered, limping off, "I'm sleeping."
Arden glanced at the clock, 12:37 AM. The night was done, but the fight wasn't. He wasn't just a fracture anymore. He was a Weaver, and he'd figure this out one stop at a time.