The East Tower was the oldest part of the Royal Aetherian Academy.
It leaned slightly, like a relic from an age when gods walked and men still feared stars.
At night, it was silent — not because no one went there, but because those who did never spoke of it.
Kael moved like a shadow, wrapped in the dark cloak he'd borrowed from the laundry hall. His steps were soundless, practiced from years of needing to disappear.
He was used to being overlooked.
He was not used to being invited.
The tower door creaked open as if surprised someone had dared.
He stepped inside.
At the far end of the spiraling stairway, a dim orange glow flickered
Naya was already there.
She sat cross-legged near a cracked window, a lantern beside her, and five books open in a semi-circle like arcane offerings. Her braid was looser than before. Her eyes, sharper.
"You came," she said without looking up.
Kael nodded. "You expected me not to?"
"Most students run when they see sealed scripts."
She flipped a page. "You read them."
Kael didn't reply.
Instead, he stepped forward. The walls here bore strange carvings — not runes, but symbols older, angular. They pulsed faintly in the lantern light.
Naya pointed to one.
"Do you know what that is?"
Kael stared.
It looked like a star — fractured. A line broken through the center.
"It's the mark of the Hollow Star."
She turned a page. "A forbidden cult. Long dead, supposedly. They believed a god had been devoured. By a mortal." She paused. "They believed he left a piece of himself… behind."
Kael's breath caught.
Not because of the story.
But because he'd seen that symbol before.
In the mirror. On the inside of his wrist. A birthmark he'd always hidden.
No one knew. Not even him.
But something inside him had always pulsed when he stared at it too long… like a heartbeat out of sync with his own.
Naya looked up. "Something wrong?"
He blinked. "Just… old stories. Nothing real."
She studied him, brow creased — as if trying to read the air around him, not just his face.
But she let it go.
For now.
-----
Outside, wind howled against the stone.
Inside, Kael's thoughts raced.
Why was he drawn here? Who was she?
Why did this place feel less like ruin and more like a waiting room for something not dead yet?
Then came the sound.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Intentional.
Kael snapped toward the door. Naya blew out the lantern in a heartbeat. Darkness swallowed them.
The door creaked.
Then: silence.
No one entered.
But Kael felt it.
A presence.
After a moment, a deep voice echoed from the corridor — calm, amused, too smooth.
"Curiosity is a fine trait, Mr. Riven."
Kael stiffened.
Lioren.
The professor of warfare and combat theory.
"But you'll find that some towers should remain forgotten."
A pause.
"Enjoy your night."
The door shut.
No footsteps walking away.
Just silence.
Kael's heart thundered. He didn't dare breathe.
Only when the shadows felt lighter did Naya whisper:
"He knows."
Kael's fingers curled.
"Let him."