The underchamber trial was supposed to be secret.
But by morning, everyone knew.
Whispers followed Kael like a second shadow through the marble halls of Eldros Academy. "He solved the glyph maze blind." "Touched the mirror and didn't go mad." "Varra stayed to watch—herself."
Most students didn't believe half of it. The ones who did kept their distance.
And the nobles?
They didn't like being upstaged.
"I heard Darius nearly broke a table in Strategy class," Marcus said cheerfully as they headed to Magical Ethics. "Apparently he threw a chair when he found out you got invited to the trial instead of him."
Kael raised a brow. "I thought it was open to anyone."
"Sure. But Varra 'happened' to be there when you came out. That kind of thing gets noticed."
Annie looked up from her notes. "Be careful. Darius isn't used to being second. And he has the coin to make problems go away."
Kael shrugged. "Let him try."
Annie narrowed her eyes. "Don't underestimate nobles. They don't need to fight fair—they just need to fight loud."
Later that day, in Combat Tactics, the lesson shifted from spell diagrams to real sparring.
The instructor, a burly ex-war mage named Commander Yelric, barked orders like cannon blasts.
"Pair up! No lethal spells, no illusions, no complaining!"
Kael didn't even have time to glance around before a voice rang out.
"I'll take him."
Darius stood at the far end of the ring, already drawing his wand. His smirk was wide enough to swallow a whole ego.
Kael stepped forward silently.
"Don't hold back," Darius called. "Wouldn't want you to think I went easy on a… stormborn peasant."
The class went quiet.
Kael didn't reply. He just rolled his shoulders and stepped into position.
Yelric dropped his arm. "Begin!"
Darius struck first—three precision bolts of compressed flame, darting through the air like arrows. Kael dodged the first, parried the second, and dispersed the third with a controlled gust of wind.
The class gasped.
Darius frowned. "You've been practicing."
"You haven't," Kael said calmly, gathering mana at his fingertips.
He didn't need to win.
He just needed to show that he could.
With a twist of his wrist, he sent a pulse of storm-infused air toward Darius—not enough to knock him out, just enough to stagger his stance.
Darius stumbled.
Kael lowered his hand.
It was over.
Until Darius cheated.
The noble's wand lit again—crackling with unstable energy. A second volley shot toward Kael, this time laced with burning ash.
Yelric moved to step in.
He didn't need to.
Kael reacted on instinct.
Wind swirled around him like a living barrier, catching the flames mid-air. They died against the invisible shield, harmless.
But Kael's eyes were glowing faintly now—just for a second.
Not normal.
Not unnoticed.
Yelric stepped between them at last, raising a hand.
"Enough! You," he snapped at Darius, "off the field. Ten demerits for unsanctioned magic."
Darius looked like he wanted to argue.
One glance at Kael's calm expression changed his mind.
After class, Kael sat alone by the practice yard, breathing slowly.
He hadn't meant to react like that.
Hadn't meant for the storm to show.
But it had.
And once again, someone had seen.
He didn't return to the dorms right away.
Instead, he wandered—past the marble fountains of the upper gardens, through the ivy-draped arches of the South Wing, until he found himself once again at the Grand Athenaeum.
The library.
His one quiet place.
He wasn't alone.
Lyria Voss sat at her usual table, as elegant and unbothered as ever, leafing through a tome that looked heavier than her own torso.
"Back so soon?" she asked without looking up.
"Trouble follows me."
"Then stop walking so loudly."
Kael chuckled despite himself and dropped into the chair across from her.
She closed her book. "I heard about the duel."
He winced. "Let me guess—Darius is crying to the faculty?"
"He's threatening to duel again. Privately. Nobles can do that, you know."
"I won't accept."
"He doesn't care. He wants to make a scene. And you keep giving him excuses."
Kael looked away.
"I didn't mean to."
"I know," she said quietly. "That's what worries me."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The library was silent, but not dead. The kind of silence that breathed—like the air before a storm.
Finally, Lyria leaned forward, her voice soft.
"There's something different about you. More than talent. It's like… the magic listens when you speak. Not just obeys—it listens."
Kael met her eyes. "Would you believe I don't know why?"
"No," she said. "But I'd believe you don't know everything yet."
Then she stood, gathering her books. "Be careful, Kael. This place… it looks like a palace, but it's really a cage. And everyone inside is sharpening their teeth."
That night, Kael lay awake in his narrow bed, staring at the stone ceiling.
The storm inside him didn't sleep.
It pulsed—restless and watchful.
And in his dreams, once again, he saw the crown of lightning.
He heard a voice that was his and not his, whispering from deep within the void.
Soon.
Chapter End