Kael stood beneath the rising sun, the frost crunching softly under his boots. The academy grounds were just beginning to stir. Bells hadn't rung yet. Birds hadn't sung yet.
But he was wide awake.
Every inch of him ached from the trial beneath the Ember Caves. His left arm still burned where the beast's flame had grazed him. And yet, in that pain… he felt alive. Sharpened.
He passed the guards at the gate. They said nothing. Just watched him with curious, wary eyes.
They know I shouldn't have been out there.
But they're afraid to ask.
As he stepped onto the stone path toward the dorms, a voice broke the stillness.
"Out late, or up early?"
Kael turned.
Professor Lioren stood near the courtyard arch, half in shadow, robes uncreased as always. He hadn't shaved. His eyes were darker than usual, heavy with questions.
Kael gave a silent nod. "Training."
Lioren stared at him, long and quiet. Then said, "Be careful where you train. Not all scars can be hidden."
Kael held his gaze. "Some shouldn't be."
Lioren's brow lifted slightly, as if surprised. Then he turned without another word.
---
Later that morning, the training grounds buzzed. Students lined up in rows, their movements mechanical and sluggish from the cold. Among them, Kael blended in — at least at a glance.
But the whispers had already begun.
"He disappeared again last night, didn't he?"
"Did you see the bruises on his neck?"
"Do you think he's sneaking into other houses' training grounds?"
"I heard he killed something."
Theron stood off to the side, watching Kael with a simmering glare. Jerris and Darian flanked him as always, though they laughed a bit too loud now, their words losing sharpness.
Bullies could smell fear. But they could also smell when their prey started smelling like a predator.
And Kael… no longer looked like prey.
---
Across the yard, Naya sat in the bleachers beside Celaine and Avenna, a quill in her hand and a book open across her lap — though she wasn't reading.
She was watching.
Kael's stance. His gait. The way he never flinched, even when Theron purposely slammed his practice spear too close during drills. He didn't react.
He just moved. Fluid. Quiet. Controlled.
"Are you seriously still watching him?" Avenna scoffed.
Naya didn't answer.
"You think he's mysterious or something?" Celaine grinned. "He's probably just a weirdo who got lucky during combat class."
Naya finally spoke. "Luck doesn't sharpen your footwork. Or harden your jaw."
Celaine blinked. "...Did you just compliment his jaw?"
Naya rolled her eyes, closing her book.
But even as she stood, her gaze lingered.
She didn't trust him.
But something inside her had started to believe in him. And that, somehow, was worse.
---
That evening, after lectures, Kael sat alone in the old archives again. No glowing runes, no magical tomes — just a single candle and a worn page of scribbled diagrams.
He wasn't just reading.
He was deciphering.
The sigil from the Ember Cave… the sword and horns… it matched something in a forgotten scroll he'd hidden away two weeks ago. A house long thought extinct.
House Nivoran. The Devourers of Flame.
The name made his fingers tremble.
There was a time when that symbol would've been revered. But now… it was whispered only by grave diggers and mad historians. Their legacy was said to be cursed — their blood, tainted by gods they once dared to challenge.
Kael didn't know what it meant for him.
Not yet.
But something in his blood stirred every time he touched that symbol. Every time he fought. Every time he bled.
---
Elsewhere in the academy, behind thick stone walls and fire-warmed halls, a secret meeting unfolded.
Headmaster Veyren stood beside Lioren and the Archon of Internal Affairs. A single parchment lay on the table.
"He entered the Ember Ruins," Lioren said flatly.
"That area's sealed by a divine decree. No one has survived it in years," the Archon replied.
"And yet… he did."
The headmaster narrowed his eyes. "Do we tell the Inquisition?"
"No," Lioren said, firm. "We watch. Closely. Quietly. Until we know what's inside him."
Silence.
Then the headmaster nodded. "And if it's something dangerous?"
Lioren looked out the window, toward the sparring grounds. Kael stood at the far end, training again, alone.
"If it's dangerous," he said softly, "then we pray it remains asleep."
---
That night, Kael lay in bed staring at the cracked ceiling.
The whispers. The threats. The questions.
They were nothing compared to the storm beginning to rise inside him.
And for the first time since arriving, he didn't feel afraid of it.
He felt ready.