I wake choking on sweat and the phantom taste of iron, the nightmare clawing at my mind like a beast desperate to break free. Shadows twist and writhe just beyond the periphery of my sight, whispering truths I don't understand—truths I'm not sure I want to. A voice—low, ancient—drags me toward a darkness that doesn't just promise the end. It promises home. A faint, unnatural warmth flickered deep in my chest for a heartbeat, then vanished. But I'm still here. For now.
The cold light of dawn bleeds through the cracked blinds of my room in New Elysium Academy—a city-state cloaked in rust and glow, where the future has teeth and the past won't die. The walls hum with rune-circuits, ancient symbols etched into machine-flesh. Magic here is wired. Tech here is haunted.
I slam my hand against the wall to steady myself, ignoring the rune's faint pulse on my wrist. It's not a gift. It's a brand. A warning.
"Cael, you up?"
Lira's voice. Sharp as ever, no patience for weakness.
She's already at the door, lean frame taut with discipline. Jet-black hair pulled back, dark eyes cutting through the morning like a scalpel.
"Yeah," I grunt. "Just… nightmares."
She doesn't ask. Good. Some things aren't meant to be named.
Downstairs, Jin is pacing—his blond spikes untamed, body wound like a spring. Mira sits nearby, serene as ever, her chestnut curls brushing a pale cheek. Her presence quiets the noise. Like she's listening to something no one else can hear. Her gaze lingered on me a fraction too long, holding a weight I couldn't decipher.
"The Silarin will be there," Lira says, clipped.
"Good," Jin growls. "Let them try something."
"Diplomacy exists for a reason," Mira says gently, her eyes still holding a trace of that unspoken knowledge.
"Diplomacy gets you killed," Jin mutters. "So does hesitation."
They bicker. I barely hear it. The echo of my dream clings like smoke. The portal. The pull. That name in the dark – a sound like grinding stone and dying embers.
It wasn't mine.
The portal chamber thrums with energy. Obsidian tiles shimmer underfoot, runes dancing in sequence. The Veylar Expanse—today's destination—beats like a stalled heart inside the containment field.
We're not alone.
The Silarin have arrived. Black uniforms trimmed in violet, runes etched into every seam. Their arrogance is dressed in elegance.
Vaelen stands at the front. Silver hair. Stillness like a blade.
"I see the academy sends its pets," he says, voice smooth and sharp.
Jin steps forward, fire in his eyes.
"Say that again, glow-eyes."
I hold him back. I always do.
Vaelen smiles, amused. "Still predictable. Like fire—flashy, useless."
"Get singed then," Lira answers coolly.
Behind Vaelen, Thyrr looms like a storm barely leashed. Seris, dark-haired and poised, watches without judgment. That makes her more dangerous.
"This is synergy testing," Vaelen sneers. "Let's see if you understand the word before something tears your lungs out."
Portal countdown begins. Thirty seconds.
"We'll survive," I say. "Whether you limp back is another matter."
Thyrr chuckles once. No one else laughs.
Above us, the observation deck stirs. Glass tinted, but not enough to hide the weight of their gaze.
"Instructors," Lira murmurs.
Verren stands center. Crimson coat. Golden runes stitched like veins. Stillness wrapped in menace.
Beside him, Rhovan leans on his rail. One arm biomechanical, runes twitching like nerves. His eyes scan like a hawk.
Two masked figures flank them. Silent. Watching.
Then:
Observation Deck —
"They're not ready," Rhovan mutters.
"They don't need to be," Verren answers. "We're watching for the fracture's echo."
"You still think it's him?"
"I don't think," Verren says, his gaze unwavering on Cael below. "I remember. He dreams in runes. The Black Gate knew him before he was born."
"The twin soul project was sealed."
"So was the Gate. And yet—" Verren tilts his head, a muscle tightening near his jaw, "—here we are."
-----
A cold finger traced my spine. I feel it—something shifting in their gaze. Verren's focus felt like a physical weight.
"They're scouting," Mira says quietly, her voice barely audible over the chamber's hum.
"Scouting for what?" Jin grunts.
"Not what," she whispers, her knuckles white on her staff. "Who."
She's the only one who knows. She found the records herself—smuggled from her mother's sealed logs. The Death Breach. The twin soul prophecy. A child born when the last gate opened.
Me.
The portal pulses. Five seconds. A masked observer shifts slightly—directly toward me. Recognition. Not my name. Me. Ice flooded my veins. Then— One.
We fall.
The world tears open.
We land in silence.
No wind. No sky. Just a sick swirl of gray and violet, fractured like glass under pressure. The earth pulses—alive with runes that shouldn't breathe.
"This isn't a test site," Lira whispers, blades already half-drawn.
The ruins stretch ahead. Shattered stone, burnt soil. The bones of another failure.
Vaelen frowns, his arrogance momentarily replaced by wariness. "We're not alone."
He's right.
Movement. Northeast ridge.
Four-legged shadows.
"Gateborn hounds," someone mutters.
But they're wrong.
I see it before the rest. Cracks in their skin. Black veins. Jaws split too wide. Corruption layered like oil.
"Not hounds," Mira breathes, her voice tight with horror. "Nullspawn."
The air breaks with howls.
"Formation!" Thyrr shouts, his voice cutting through the sudden dread.
A shield rune slams down. Jin hurls lightning, but it only staggers the creatures. They reform, limbs snapping back with unnatural speed, bones grating with wet, popping sounds.
"Not normal!" Lira growls, blades flashing. One beast collapses, only to rise again, pieces wrong, oily darkness knitting torn flesh.
Mira stabs her staff into the ground. Inverted runes pulse. A wave of null-space flares. One creature writhes—held. "These were human," she says, her voice thick with sorrow. "Once."
Ten of them now. Maybe more.
I drop to one knee. The deep warmth in my chest roared to life, a trapped star. Not the academy brand. The hidden one.
I touch the ground. It breaks.
A surge of dark energy lances outward. Two Nullspawn collapse into shrieking nothing.
Everything stops.
They look at me.
Not anger. Dawning, terrible Recognition.
"Cael…"
The whisper rides the wind.
Jin stares at me, eyes wide. "Where did you learn that?"
"I didn't," I say, my own voice sounding alien.
A massive shadow crests the ridge. A thing draped in ruined armor, obsidian spear in hand. Its face a ruin of burned runes.
"Fall back!" Thyrr shouts, a crack of fear in his command.
Too late.
The portal flares—erratic, unstable. Verren and Rhovan drop in from above. Frost and fire rain down.
"Move!" Rhovan roars. "The portal's converting—Black Gate tether detected!"
The blood drains from my face.
The Black Gate.
It opened the moment I was born.
Vaelen grabs my arm, his grip iron, his earlier sneer replaced by stunned calculation. Jin's braced beside me, shield flaring.
The vortex pulls.
We fall.
Not into another world.
Into something beneath it.
The last thing I see is Verren's face. Not fear. Profound, weary Regret.
Then darkness swallows us whole.