Kael had barely finished binding the bruises on his ribs when the whispers began.
By midday, his name drifted through every corridor of the Royal Academy.
"That's the servant who stood against Rowan."
"They said he lasted ten minutes. Against Everfall."
"Not a drop of noble blood in him, but the way he moved—"
"Maybe he's some kind of hidden heir?"
Kael kept his head down and his mouth shut. The worst thing he could do was start believing the noise. He wasn't a hero. He was a mistake in the script.
But the story didn't care what he wanted anymore.
An Audience with Shadows
That night, a letter arrived.
No seal. No signature. Just his name in elegant script.
"Come to the tower at the twelfth bell. Come alone."
Kael stared at it for a long time.
There was no mention of punishment. No veiled threats. But something about the ink on the parchment made his skin crawl.
Still, he went.
The tower in question was one of the older spires of the Academy — unused and long since eclipsed by newer, grander halls. He climbed the spiral staircase by torchlight, his footsteps echoing like a heartbeat.
At the top: a circular chamber lined with old books and strange glyphs. And in the center, seated at a table carved from obsidian, was Lady Althea Velmire.
She didn't look surprised to see him.
"Sit," she said, without turning from the scroll she was reading.
Kael sat.
Althea finally looked up. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel. "You don't belong here."
Kael said nothing.
"You're not a noble, not a mage, not part of any bloodline worth remembering. And yet you've caught the eye of Rowan Everfall and held your own against him." She leaned forward. "The world has rules, boy. And you're breaking them."
"I'm just surviving," Kael said quietly.
"Are you?" Her voice was a blade now. "Because people who simply 'survive' don't distort the weave of prophecy."
Kael's blood went cold. Prophecy?
Althea stood and began to pace slowly, like a predator circling prey. "The Everfall boy is marked. Fated. His rise has been foreseen for over a century. But since your duel… there's been static. Visions clouded. Threads twisting."
Kael clenched his fists. "Maybe the world's tired of scripts."
Althea stopped. For the first time, she smiled — not warmly, but curiously.
"Then I suggest you be careful. When stories go off-course, they tend to… correct themselves." She turned away. "You're dismissed."
Kael didn't move.
"Why call me here just to warn me?"
Althea looked back over her shoulder.
"Because I want to see what happens when someone dares to rewrite fate."