The Assembly Hall had emptied like a vessel poured dry. The candidates were gone, the instructors dismissed. Only one remained.
Vael.
He stood alone beneath the high arches, the stone beneath him still humming faintly with the echo of footsteps. Before him sat the Seven Sigils, silent and watchful, their thrones spaced like the points of a crown. Orin stood among them, arms crossed, unreadable.
A soft strike echoed—Mara Dain's staff tapping once against the floor.
"Come forward."
Vael moved without pause. His steps made no sound he didn't intend. His face was a mask carved from calm. He stopped a few paces short of the dais and waited, eyes level, spine straight.
"You were not questioned after the event," said Lucian Veyne, voice even. "We had no time before the entrance exam began."
Selene Virell nodded. "But we are no longer rushed. And the truth still matters."
"The town where you lived," said Thalia Mire, "no longer exists."
"And your mother," Kaelen Rhest added quietly, "was among the dead."
Vael didn't move. "Yes."
"There were no remains," Aren Vos said. "Only melted stone. Collapsed sky. Residual divine energy. You were found unconscious. No signs of injury."
"We've seen the reports," Drexen Holt said, eyes narrowing. "But paper doesn't speak like people do."
Mara's gaze sharpened. "We want to hear what happened. In your words."
Vael was silent for a moment. Then he spoke—calm, measured.
"It happened fast. The sky cracked. The ground followed. I don't know why the gods were there. They didn't speak to us. They didn't need to."
"You were caught in their path," Lucian said.
"Yes," Vael replied. "My mother shielded me. It wasn't enough."
"And then?" Selene asked.
Vael's hands were still. "After she died... something in me changed. I didn't understand it. Still don't. But they noticed."
"They?" murmured Thalia.
"The gods," Vael said. "I don't know what they saw. But they turned their attention to me."
"And attacked?" Drexen asked.
"Yes."
"You survived." Kaelen said.
"I woke up later," Vael said. "Alone."
A heavy pause followed. The truth sat between them—warped, partial, but solid.
Mara studied him. "You don't remember more?"
"I remember enough."
"You speak carefully," Aren observed.
"I speak what I know," Vael said.
Orin's eyes flicked across the faces of the others. He said nothing.
Selene's gaze lingered on Vael. "You changed. That much is obvious."
Vael didn't respond.
"There's something in you now," Mara said. "Something you're still learning to carry."
Vael's voice was quiet. "I carry what I have to."
"Some burdens aren't meant to be carried alone," Lucian said.
"I'm used to it."
Thalia nodded slightly. "You'll be watched."
"I assumed that."
Drexen leaned forward, arms like boulders crossed. "You don't shake. You don't flinch. That concerns me."
"It shouldn't," Vael said.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm still here."
Orin finally spoke. "Enough. He gave us what he could. More than most would."
The chamber stayed silent. The Sigils sat with furrowed brows, shifting glances passing like undercurrents between them. None pressed him further on the gods.
But the weight of what wasn't said hung heavy in the air.
Then Aren Vos spoke. "Let's talk about the Goblin Lord."
Vael's eyes didn't shift. "What about it?"
"You killed it," Thalia said. "Decisively."
"You moved after it had already torn through several squads," Selene added. "You didn't just fight it—you ended it. Alone."
Drexen crossed his arms. "A Lord-class monster. Dozens of trained candidates dead. You walk out of it alive."
"You're not subtle," Kaelen said, almost amused. "And yet... ranked last."
Vael didn't respond.
"You don't find that strange?" Thalia asked.
"No."
"Why?" Lucian asked.
"Because I don't care about the list."
A pause. Kaelen gave a dry laugh under his breath. Mara, however, didn't smile.
"You don't have to care," she said. "But others will. They already do."
Selene looked to Orin. "You made the call."
Orin nodded. "Yes. I did."
"And the reason?" Kaelen asked, eyes flicking toward Vael.
"To hide what he is," Orin said simply. "From them."
"The candidates. The public. The other Orders," Lucian added. "Even within the Academy, we cannot afford rumors."
"He's not just strong," Drexen said. "He's disruptive. People talk when a boy like him slays a Lord-class and doesn't even get top ten."
"They talk more when he does get top spot," Thalia said.
"So," Mara concluded, "we buried the spark in the ashes of failure."
Vael remained still, his tone unchanged. "Doesn't matter to me."
"It should," Selene said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Even shadows are watched."
"You'll continue training," Orin said. "You'll follow the path set. But you'll walk it without the attention your actions deserve."
"We'll see how long the mask holds," Kaelen said. "Secrets always crack under pressure."
"I'll manage," Vael replied.
Another pause.
Mara tapped her staff once more. The sound echoed like the closing of a door.
"You may go."
Vael gave a slight nod and turned to leave, his silhouette slipping back into the cold stillness of the corridor.
Behind him, the Sigils watched in silence—less certain of what they had just heard than what they hadn't.
Vael walked the silent corridors of the citadel, leaving the Assembly Hall and the eyes of the Sigils behind. His footsteps didn't echo. He moved like someone already used to being forgotten.
He returned to the quarters that had been assigned to him before the entrance ceremony. Second floor, east wing. Plain. Functional. Forgettable.
He didn't undress. Just lay down on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling until sleep eventually dragged him under like cold water.
Morning came grey and thin.
Light filtered through the slitted window. The stone floor was colder than it should've been. Vael sat up immediately, alert. Not tired. Just aware.
A letter lay on the ground near the door, pushed under sometime in the night.
He opened it.
"Vael Eldorin—
Report to the Year One class, Track B. Blend in. Do not challenge your placement.
You will be summoned for additional instruction when called. Speak of it to no one.
—Selene Virell"
He set the letter aside and began to dress.
As he fastened the collar of his uniform, his eyes caught his reflection in the narrow steel mirror above the desk.
He stopped.
There wasn't a mark on him.
Not from the Goblin Lord—whose claw had torn into his ribs during the final strike.
His broken hand, fully healed.
No bruises. No scars. Nothing.
And it wasn't the first time.
His mind flicked back—three days ago, in the ruins of that shattered village, after the gods came. He'd been broken. Bleeding. Half-dead.
But two days ago, when he awoke inside the Order's infirmary, only a few scratches and deep muscle pain remained. The rest had already healed.
And yesterday, it was like none of it had ever existed.
Not normal healing. Not magic.
Something else.
And that's when the voice first spoke.
"It is the power you awakened in that moment." it had said.
"You do not yet control it. But even dormant, it works. That is why your wounds vanish."
Vael stared at himself.
"If you ever learn to wield it fully," the voice had continued,
"your body will repair itself before the blade even leaves your skin. Injuries will vanish in the space between seconds."
He'd said nothing at the time. Just listened.
He simply turned and left the room.
Another day. Another mask.
Vael stepped out into the corridor. The air outside was cool. The Academy hadn't fully woken yet—most doors remained closed, most halls still hushed.
He started walking.
A door to his right opened quietly. Ryne Aeril stepped out, already dressed, bow slung across her back in a custom sheath. Her pale blond hair was tied in a tight braid, her green eyes sharp—but not hostile.
She noticed him immediately and gave a slight nod. "Morning."
Vael gave one in return. "Mm."
They began walking side by side. She didn't press him with questions, but she didn't leave either. Their silence was companionable—comfortable in a way that most people weren't.
"You didn't say much after the exam," she said at last, keeping her tone light.
"There wasn't much to say."
"You killed the thing."
"We all did."
Ryne gave a quiet breath. Not quite a laugh, but close. "You really don't care about the rankings?"
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
Vael didn't answer.
She didn't ask again.
As they turned down the marble path that led toward the main training courtyard, two more students stepped into view—taller, broader, both already suited in partial armor.
Joss Kael carried a short spear across his back and wore the look of someone who'd been awake for hours. Behind him walked Kainen Vell, his presence sharp-edged and cold as iron.
Joss raised a hand as they approached. "Look who actually sleeps."
Vael said nothing. Ryne gave a slight shrug.
Kainen looked Vael over with a gaze that lingered just a second too long.
"You look better than yesterday," he said.
"I heal fast," Vael replied.
Joss tilted his head, half-curious. "You always this quiet, or just around people?"
"Both."
They fell into step together, the four of them walking beneath archways of pale stone and etched glass. The early morning light painted fractured shadows across the floor.
For a brief moment, none of them spoke. Four strangers bound by one shared battlefield, now heading toward the routine of normalcy like it meant something.
But Vael knew better.
Nothing about this place would stay normal for long.