Dark.
Not the absence of light—the absence of place. Kael opened his eyes into a horizonless nowhere, a matte void that swallowed sound and sense.
"Where am I…? What is this place?"
His voice didn't echo. He took a step and felt no ground, and yet something beneath him yielded, like walking on a thought. Far ahead, a silhouette resolved—taller than any human, edges fuzzed like heat haze. It wasn't moving, but dread moved through Kael all the same. It pressed on him with the weight of deep water: hopeless, ancient, patient.
His breath hitched.
A second shadow slid into being behind the first, thinner, crooked. No footfalls. No warning.
Steel—no, something—slipped through the taller shape's back. The larger silhouette bowed without a sound, folding in on itself, the darkness around it rippling like torn fabric. The crooked one turned, and where its face should be there was only a smear of deeper night.
Kael's heart lurched.
He woke with a violent gasp.
Blue wardlight pulsed overhead. The antiseptic bite of the infirmary rushed in, the hum of runic monitors, the soft click of stabilizers keeping mana from spilling where it shouldn't.
He stared at his hands, shaking.
What was that? The memory clung like frost along his spine. That thing… neither of them were ordinary.
"Yo, Kael!"
Reks's voice cut through his thoughts like a thrown rope. The door slid aside and he stomped in—bandaged brow, one sleeve in tatters, grin undiminished. "That was awesome."
"You okay, man?" Laziel followed, quieter. His arm was strapped, his side wrapped tight under a pristine shirt, eyes rimmed with tired. He stood close enough to read the monitors and far enough to pretend he wasn't.
Kael pushed himself up on an elbow and winced. "As good as someone who just crawled out of a storm."
Laziel glanced away, voice dropping. "…Thanks."
"For what?" Kael asked, genuinely puzzled.
Laziel tried to find different words and failed. "For—".
Kael met his eyes. "Isn't that what friends are for? No ledgers. No debts. We carry each other… or we don't deserve the win."
Reks blinked, then barked a laugh. "Look at you—philosopher king."
"Didn't expect my kid brother to be such a wise boy."
Selene leaned in the doorway, the infirmary's light catching silver in her hair. She crossed the room in a few long strides, the air around her settling, as if recognizing someone it trusted.
"You did well out there," she said, and her smile was soft but sure. "I'm proud of you."
Kael froze. The words struck harder than any blow he'd taken in the arena. His chest loosened and tightened at once, his throat catching for half a breath before he managed a nod.
"Are they your friends?" she asked, tilting her chin toward the two statues suddenly pretending not to be statues.
Kael nodded.
"Nice to meet you," she said, offering a hand with easy confidence. "I'm Selene—Kael's older sister."
"Reks Valorin," Reks said, squaring up as if greeting a general, then ruining it by grinning.
"Laziel Quent," Laziel said, tone respectful.
Selene's eyes warmed. "Good to have you both around him."
While they spoke, two phrases looped like quiet bells in Kael's head: I'm proud of you. Friends.
His thoughts drifted, unspooling down a hallway that didn't exist anymore—to a person who didn't either. A boy who learned to live by bracing first and hoping never. An invisible existence before Awakening, and after it, a lone orphan who measured days by what he could endure, not what he could share.
"Kael." A gentle call.
He didn't hear it.
"Kael."
Still falling.
"KAEL."
He snapped back and found Selene's worried gaze inches from his. "You okay?"
He held her eyes a heartbeat longer than he meant to, then let a genuine smile break across his face and nodded. "Yeah."
"Good." She exhaled, ruffling his hair with a practiced, infuriatingly affectionate hand. "Anyway, I have to go. Don't make the medics chase you with a stretcher again." She turned to the others. "Keep him safe for me would you."
"No promises," Reks said.
"We'll try," Laziel amended.
Selene squeezed Kael's shoulder, let go, and was gone—heels clicking, door sighing shut, the room a fraction dimmer for it.
Reks blew out a breath. "Your sister is—uh—strong. Like, scary strong. And smart. And beautiful—" He caught himself. "—I mean that in a respectful way."
"Her mana control is… elegant," Laziel said, thinking out loud. "The way she moves, you can tell she doesn't waste a spark. Beautiful work.
"Relax," Kael said, almost laughing. "She is strong. And smart."
"And I'm absolutely going to ask for a spar," Reks added, eyes already alight with bad ideas.
They kept talking—about the finals, about the roar that still rang in their bones, about bets Reks had won and had to pretend he hadn't. Kael listened, but part of him sat with the boy he had been, a ghost in a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.
No.
The word rose, quiet but iron. I will not live like that again.
He looked at them—Reks, animated even in exhaustion; Laziel, steady even while hurting—and something set in him like tempered steel.
Not with them at my side.
He let the smallest smile bend his mouth, settling back against the pillow, pain and relief sharing space inside his ribs.
This time I'll protect their happiness. No matter what. Because theirs leads me to mine.