The Forsaken Seal

The night was already deep by the time Layron and the falcon left the underground chamber. Gramps was gone, swallowed by the ancient escape tunnel, leaving only the weight of his promise hanging in the air. Layron still couldn't fully process it — 11 days, alone with a bird who was apparently his new sensei.

The falcon flew silently beside him, wings barely rustling, its sleek form cutting through the air as effortlessly as a blade through silk. Layron, hands shoved into his pockets, kicked a loose stone down the path as they walked back toward the house.

He could already feel the question forming in Anya's mind — where's Gramps? There was no excuse that could hold up, not with how sharp Anya was when it came to reading Layron's face. His stomach twisted with anxiety.

"I'm so dead," Layron muttered under his breath.

Without warning, the falcon banked sharply, spiraled once in the air, and then… dropped like a stone onto the path in front of Layron.

Layron took a startled step back. "What the hell are you—"

The falcon's feathers shimmered faintly, edges blurring like heat rising off hot stone. Its entire body convulsed once, then stretched, bones and flesh warping, feathers retracting into skin. Within seconds, the small falcon was gone.

In its place stood… Gramps.

Layron's jaw unhinged. "What the—"

Gramps — or rather, the falcon now wearing Gramps' face — scratched the back of his neck exactly like the real Gramps always did, even mimicking his usual irritated sigh.

"Stop gawking, kid." His voice, his posture, even the slight limp in his step — all identical to Gramps.

Layron pointed with a trembling finger. "You—what—how—"

"Phantom Shift," 'Gramps' said casually, starting to walk again. "Old trick we falcons learned a few centuries ago. Helps when you need to infiltrate villages or avoid getting shot out of the sky."

Layron was still frozen, mind trying to reboot. "You can just… become anyone?"

"Only someone we've scanned," the falcon said, patting his own chest with Gramps' rough hand. "Your grandpa's been scanned more times than I can count. Not my best work — I'm way more handsome."

Layron's brain finally caught up, and he groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Come on, stop wasting time." The fake Gramps waved him forward. "I'm covering your ass with Anya, so the least you can do is keep up."

---

By the time they reached the house, Layron's heart was hammering so hard he thought Anya would hear it before she saw them.

The front door swung open, and Anya stood there, her face lighting up instantly.

"Gramps!" she beamed, holding up a sheet of paper. "Look what I drew today!"

Phantom-Shift Gramps leaned down, eyes scanning the paper like a professional art critic. "Well, well. That's not bad at all. Did you copy it or draw it yourself?"

Anya puffed her chest out proudly. "All me!"

The fake Gramps gave her a rare smile. "Good. Keep it up."

Layron stood behind them, sweat gathering under his collar. This was weird. And yet, Anya didn't suspect a thing.

Dinner passed uneventfully, with Phantom-Shift Gramps chewing exactly like the real one — loud, impatient, but with a faint hum of approval after each bite. Anya went to bed smiling, none the wiser.

Layron lay awake later, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Who the hell were these falcons?

---

The next morning, as Anya left for the academy, Layron, Phantom-Shift Gramps, and Shion made their way toward the forest clearing where his training would begin. Midway there, Phantom-Shift Gramps shimmered and folded back into his falcon form — the return was faster, smoother, like water flowing back into its natural shape.

"Okay, seriously," Layron said as they walked. "What am I learning today?"

Falkren's head turned, mechanical eye flickering.

[[Lesson one — Flowing Stride.]]

Layron frowned. "That doesn't sound like fighting."

[[It's not. It's surviving.]]

Layron gave him a flat look. "What does that even mean?"

The falcon's wings flapped, rising slightly into the air before landing again. [[You ever wonder why falcons are the fastest birds alive? Most people think it's because of sharp wings.]]

Layron nodded.

[[Wrong.]]

Layron blinked. "What?"

[[It's not just our wings — it's how we handle obstacles.]] Falkren hopped onto a low tree branch, his gaze sweeping across the dense cluster of trees ahead.

[[You ever watch how water flows, kid?]]

Layron shrugged. "Yeah, sure. It flows downhill."

[[And what happens when it hits a rock?]]

Layron frowned. "It flows around it."

[[Exactly.]] Falkren's talons clenched the bark. [[It doesn't fight the obstacle. It doesn't stop. It just changes direction instantly. That's what makes it unstoppable.]]

Layron's brows furrowed. "What's that got to do with me?"

[[Because if you learn how to flow like water, you'll never need to stop and think.]] Falkren's mechanical eye narrowed. [[If you can change direction without losing momentum — without fighting your own body — then no enemy will ever predict your next step.]]

Layron opened his mouth to ask something else, but Falkren raised a wing to cut him off.

[[And before you ask, yes — this comes before speed training. Speed's useless if you can't control it. Flowing Stride makes sure you never need to stop moving — even in a fight.]]

Layron's mouth closed. That… actually made sense. That was exactly the doubt he'd been thinking about.

"How do I learn it?" he asked.

Falkren's beak curved into something disturbingly close to a grin.

[[Watch.]]

The falcon flew low into the narrowest part of the clearing — a section where trees stood close together, with barely inches between trunks. Layron winced. There was no way anything could fly through that without smashing its beak.

Falkren's wings snapped once.

He shot forward like a bullet.

Layron's heart jumped — the falcon was going too fast, there was no way—

But just before impact, Falkren shifted.

His wings tucked. His body twisted — not slowed, not paused — just… redirected.

At the last possible second, he veered into the narrow gap, then did it again — and again — never stopping, never slowing. He was liquid in flight, bending his path the way water bent around stones.

Layron's jaw hung open.

"Holy—" he whispered.

Falkren made a wide arc, returning to the starting point in seconds, landing with a smug shake of his feathers.

Layron rubbed the back of his neck, still replaying the way Falkren's body twisted through gaps that shouldn't have even existed.

"I thought Gramps was my biggest surprise." He exhaled sharply. "But you— you're something else entirely."

Layron shook his head, disbelief still clinging to every thought. "A falcon that can shapeshift, talk, and fly like that?"

He glanced at Falkren with something closer to awe.

"I don't know if I should be terrified of you… or grateful."

[[Can't it be both?]] Falkren quipped.

[[ This is your training, you are going to learn this in the first lesson.]]

Layron felt excited but deep down he doubt himself whether he can learn that technique in short period of time.

---