Luckborn

Aside from the increased security, reduced mobility and freedoms, and general air of fear regarding another Koasborn attack, Otter felt like second semester was going pretty well. Five weeks in, and his courses were going well. Since picking up that proficiency, Combat Basics had become much easier. Alchemy was right up his alley. It was difficult and required time to perfect each recipe, but it might just supplant Entomology as his favorite subject. Kaos Theory, as everyone was now calling it, was a bit odd. Mainly because Professor Quisling was so enthusiastic. There was something about him that gave Otter the heebie-jeebies, but his other friends in class just thought he was charming.

Best of all, he hadn't felt like an outcast since returning. Word had gotten around about his hand in the events during the simulation and, if the other students weren't being friendly, they at least weren't outright hostile. No more sneaking around to dodge bullies. No more hurtful whispers between sessions.

But as Otter walked into the mess hall one morning, something was different. The usual morning bustle was there—students chatting over steaming bowls of porridge, the scent of fresh bread and frying bacon in the air, the clatter of wooden trays and mugs—but it was subdued. Muted. Like a conversation had just been interrupted the moment he stepped through the door.

Otter frowned.

Am I imagining things?

His boots scuffed against the stone floor as he made his way toward the food line, weaving through groups of students clustered together, their voices low and hushed. A few eyes flicked toward him, then quickly away.

Okay, something's definitely going on.

Otter kept his expression neutral as he grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. Whatever it was, he'd find out soon enough.

He spotted Erin at their usual table near the tall windows. She was already watching him when he turned, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised like she'd been expecting him to notice.

She waved him over.

Otter set his tray down across from her and dropped into the seat. "Alright. What's going on?"

Erin speared a piece of fruit with her fork. "You haven't heard?"

"I just walked in."

She chewed, swallowed, then leaned forward. "They're saying the System glitches, the accidents, the simulation attack? They're all connected."

Otter tensed. "Connected how?"

Erin's expression darkened. "It seems the investigation has decided someone's to blame. There haven't been any formal accusations. Actually, there hasn't been an official report released about anything yet. I checked. But you know all it takes to start a rumor is one overheard whisper." She dropped her voice lower. "And guess whose name keeps coming up?"

Otter's stomach twisted. "Seriously?" he muttered.

Erin nodded.

Otter clenched his jaw. Blackwood had warned him about this. The glitches. The suspicion. That certain Overseers might start pointing fingers.

He exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his temper in check. "What do you think?"

Erin scoffed. "I think it's a load of crap."

That eased some of the tightness in his chest.

"But not everyone does." Erin tilted her head toward a table on the other side of the mess hall.

Otter followed her gaze and saw Torrin sitting stiffly, his jaw tight, his hands clenched around his utensils.

Otter's stomach dropped.

"Torrin?"

Erin sighed. "He's been like that all morning."

Otter pushed his tray aside and stood. "I should go talk to him."

Erin didn't stop him, but her voice followed him. "Good luck."

Otter squared his shoulders and approached the table. He stopped just behind Torrin's chair. "Can we talk?"

Torrin didn't look up. "Kind of busy."

The surrounding students exchanged looks. One of them—a boy Otter vaguely recognized as part of Lyle's friend group—leaned forward. "You should probably go, Bennett."

Otter ignored him. "Come on, Torrin. Just for a second."

Finally, Torrin dropped his utensils onto his plate with a sharp clink. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then stood, pushing his chair back. "Fine."

The two of them stepped a few paces away from the table, far enough that no one else could hear.

Otter wasted no time. "What's going on?"

Torrin crossed his arms. "What do you think?"

Otter hesitated. "Is this about Lyle?"

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Torrin's expression twisted, something bitter flashing across his face. "It's about a lot of things."

Otter exhaled. "Listen, I know—"

"You don't know," Torrin snapped. "You don't know what it's like to wake up and hear people whispering about your team. To hear them say it was our fault, that something we did made the System go haywire. That if we hadn't gone into that stupid simulation, maybe—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

Otter blinked. "People are saying you guys did something?"

Torrin nodded.

"That's bullshit. Nobody—"

Torrin's gaze hardened. "But other people say it was your fault."

Otter felt his cheeks flush. "Who says that?"

"Overseer Kane, for one. I overheard him the other day."

Otter's pulse pounded in his ears. "That's… that can't be true."

Torrin didn't answer.

Otter's hands curled into fists at his sides. "What do you think, Torrin? After everything that happened, do you really think I'm responsible for whatever is going on?"

Torrin met his gaze. "I don't know what to think anymore."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Torrin exhaled sharply, turning away. "I need to get to class."

And just like that, he walked off, leaving Otter standing there, his heart hammering in his chest.

He turned back toward Erin. She hadn't moved, but she was watching him with that look—the one that said I told you so, but also I'm sorry.

Otter swallowed hard and trudged back to the table, dropping onto his seat.

Erin rested her elbows on the wood. "That bad?"

Otter just stared at his untouched food. "Yeah. That bad."

***

It was a few days after the rumors started spreading, and he was heading back to the dorms after an exhausting evening training session. The halls were quiet, save for the soft echo of his boots on the stone floor. His thoughts lingered on Torrin, on the tension simmering just beneath the surface of daily life.

Then—

Bzzzz.

His wrisplay vibrated violently against his wrist.

Otter flinched, stopping in his tracks.

A notification flashed across his display—then glitched, flickering between lines of garbled text and distorted symbols before vanishing altogether.

"What the—?"

He tapped at the interface, but nothing responded. The entire display had frozen. A slow, uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

After a few moments, the screen flickered back to life, looking completely normal. No sign of an error message.

Otter frowned. Maybe it was just a random hiccup in the System? Those happened sometimes, right?

But as he reached his room, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The second time, it was during Kaos Theory.

Professor Quisling was mid-lecture, his voice smooth and animated as he traced glowing diagrams of celestial bodies in the air with a flick of his fingers. "The System is Order, yes, but Order does not exist without Kaos. Without—"

Bzzzz.

Half the class jolted as their wrisplays buzzed simultaneously.

Otter glanced down at his own—only to find nothing.

No message. No update. Just… a dark screen.

Confused murmurs rippled through the classroom as students exchanged uncertain looks. One girl tentatively raised her hand. "Professor? I think something's wrong with the System."

Quisling arched a brow. "Define wrong."

"Glitches," another student said. "My wrisplay just vibrated, but there's no message."

"Mine too," someone else added.

Agreement rippled throughout the lecture hall. It seemed the same thing had happened to everyone.

Professor Quisling tilted his head, intrigued. "Fascinating."

Otter disagreed completely. Not fascinating. Concerning.

Quisling seemed to sense the unease settling over the room, because he waved a hand dismissively. "Now, now, no need for alarm. The System is not flawless. Anomalies happen. Temporary disruptions in the divine framework. Perhaps even… the natural push and pull of Kaos itself."

That didn't help. If anything, it made it worse.

Otter exchanged a glance with Erin. She looked just as unsettled as he felt.

By the third time, it wasn't just an inconvenience. It was dangerous.

Students were paired up in the training hall, drilling against one another while instructors observed. Otter was sparring with another finesse user, a wiry boy named Emric who fought with twin daggers.

They circled each other, rapiers and daggers flashing in the afternoon light, neither landing a clean hit. Otter adjusted his grip, shifted his stance—

Bzzzz.

His wrisplay flared with sudden static, a sharp crackle of energy crawling up his arm. His muscles locked—just for a second. But it was enough.

Emric lunged, aiming for a clean strike. Unable to move, Otter took the full hit to his ribs.

He gasped, staggering back, his wrisplay still buzzing against his wrist.

"Point, Emric," their instructor called.

Otter barely heard it. His heart was hammering too hard. He looked down at his wrisplay, expecting an error message.

Instead, he saw:

WARNING: SYSTEM ANOMALY DETECTED.

A chill ran down his spine, but before he could say anything, the message vanished.

The instructor clapped Emric on the shoulder. "Good work. Bennett, focus."

Otter nodded numbly, falling back into position. But his mind wasn't on the fight anymore.

Glitches happened. Rarely. They didn't happen this often, to this many people. Something was very wrong.

Later that night, Otter was heading back to his dorm after his shift at the Library.

The Academy grounds were quiet, cloaked in the stillness that came with the late hour. The extended curfew meant most students were already in their rooms, but Otter had a work pass, so he lingered, walking slowly across the frost-laced cobblestones. His ribs still ached from the sparring match, but that wasn't why he was distracted.

WARNING: SYSTEM ANOMALY DETECTED.

He'd seen the message for less than a second, but it had burned itself into his mind. He needed to talk to Blackwood. This definitely felt like a reportable oddity.

An icy wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the bare branches of the trees. Otter hunched his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he turned onto the main path leading toward the dorms. His boots crunched softly against the stone. Then something changed.

It was subtle at first. But then he realized it felt like the air had thickened. Like the world had tilted ever so slightly off its axis.

Otter slowed, his instincts prickling. It was the same sensation he'd felt in Brighthaven. His pulse quickened. Carefully, he let his gaze flick toward the nearest archway. The shadows were thick there, pooling in the recesses between the stone columns. A figure stood at the edge of the path, half-hidden between two buildings. Cloaked, hood drawn low, watching.

It could have been another student. But Otter knew it wasn't. The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just… stood there.

A lump formed in Otter's throat. He wasn't sure why, but something about this presence felt wrong. Not like an enemy waiting to strike—but something else. Something deeper. A weight settled in his chest, an instinctive sense of otherness that sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He should turn around. He should leave. But he couldn't.

Erin had wondered if the mysterious figure in Brighthaven could have been his father. Otter didn't think so, but the possibility gave him pause. Curiosity pushed aside caution. He had to know who this was.

He took a step forward.

The moment his foot touched the ground, his wrisplay buzzed.

Luck's Whisper: Active

The figure vanished. Not faded. Not stepped away.

Just—gone.

But not before a pulse of light from a suddenly flickering lantern fell across its face. In that split second, Otter saw something familiar. A face he recognized.