The wind howled through the academy's upper spires as the sun dipped below the jagged horizon.
Torchlight flickered through narrow hallways. Inside the dormitory commons, students buzzed with excitement.
"He didn't even use a sword."
"I heard the son of House Varelan cried afterward."
"No, no — he didn't cry, he just… refused to come out of his room."
Kael sat in the farthest corner of the study hall, unmoving. The shadows hugged him like old friends. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Because right now, everyone else was speaking for him.
---
On the upper level, behind a veil of velvet curtains, a different conversation played out.
"I warned you not to underestimate him," said Lioren, voice cold and low.
Instructor Draeven folded his arms. "He didn't even activate his core. It's like he's hiding something."
Lioren turned from the window, his face hardening. "He's not hiding it. He's containing it."
The headmaster, seated between them, said nothing — only scribbled notes across a long parchment.
Finally, he looked up. "Do we alert the Inquisition?"
Lioren's eyes narrowed. "No. We do not involve them. Not yet. Not unless he becomes unstable."
A long silence followed.
"Then," the headmaster said slowly, "let's test how stable he really is."
---
Meanwhile, in the girls' dormitory, Naya sat on her bed staring at a torn page.
It wasn't hers.
It had been slipped into her book during class — folded neatly between the pages of a runic theory scroll.
Kael's name was scrawled in jagged ink, beside a symbol she didn't recognize. A flame spiraling around a sword. Not the crest of any noble house. Not one listed in the historical registries.
But it was… familiar.
Why would someone send this to me?
Celaine walked in and flopped on her bed. "You still thinking about him?"
"I'm not—"
"Yes you are," Celaine smirked. "If you keep looking at him like that, everyone's going to think you're in love."
Naya shot her a look. "I'm not."
But even she didn't sound convinced anymore.
---
That night, Kael dreamed again.
Of flame and whispers.
Of black wings and broken crowns.
Of a sword that didn't reflect light… only absorbed it.
He awoke before dawn, breath shallow, pulse high.
And found something strange beneath his door.
A letter. Sealed with no crest.
He opened it slowly.
"You don't belong here. But neither do I.
Meet me at the Iron Willow. Midnight."
It wasn't signed.
But Kael folded the paper with a slow breath.
Someone knew.
Someone had seen what happened in the Ember Cave. Or what came out of it.
And now they were watching.
---
Later that day, as Kael crossed the courtyard, the murmurs followed again. Not just from students — but from faculty.
"You saw what he did to Theron?"
"He's lucky he wasn't expelled. Showing off like that."
"Power without lineage is dangerous. They forget their place."
Kael ignored it. But a small voice in his chest stirred.
It wasn't his.
It wasn't even human.
But it spoke in a whisper only he could hear:
"Devour… or be devoured."
He clenched his fists.
---
When midnight came, Kael slipped out of the dorms with silent steps and sharper eyes.
The Iron Willow stood in the north gardens, ancient and twisted, its silver leaves shimmering even in the dark.
A girl stood beneath it.
Not Naya. Not Celaine.
Someone else — cloaked, tall, with a faint scar running along her temple.
"You came," she said.
Kael didn't move. "Who are you?"
The girl removed her hood. Her eyes gleamed violet under the moonlight.
"I'm someone like you," she said. "Someone who should've died in the trials. But didn't."
Kael narrowed his gaze. "What do you want?"
She stepped closer. "To show you the truth. About what you are. What you were meant to be."
"And if I don't want it?"
She smiled faintly.
"You don't get a choice."