Chapter 14
The announcement came at dawn.
All participating students were summoned to the amphitheater—no delays, no excuses. The voice that echoed across the dorms belonged to Seraphon himself, stern and absolute.
Astern, Kaela, Lunaria, and Eryss moved quickly, joining the masses flowing toward the gleaming arena. Morning light bathed the space in gold, but there was tension beneath the shine. Whispers followed Astern as he walked. Some fearful. Some hateful. Some awed.
When the four of them arrived, they found the other academies seated in rigid formation. Nysera sat at the front row of Vaelis' delegation, veil still drawn, but her aura thrumming like a tuning fork.
Seraphon appeared above the stage, flanked by two High Ascendants.
"Due to recent irregularities," he began, "all participating students will undergo a recalibration trial."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Kaela leaned in. "What the hell is a recalibration trial?"
Lunaria's eyes narrowed. "Something they just made up to see what we're hiding."
Seraphon raised a hand for silence. "You will enter the Spiral Veil."
Now even the older students stirred.
"The Spiral Veil?" Eryss whispered. "That's a pocket plane used to test spirit balance."
"It's also used to reveal unstable energies," Lunaria added quietly.
Astern's breath slowed. He'd read about it once—a space where the spiritual and physical worlds bled together. A place where your own soul answered questions your mouth couldn't.
---
Later that hour, they stood at the edge of the portal. The swirling vortex looked calm, but its center shimmered with shifting light.
"Enter alone," Seraphon instructed. "Return changed."
One by one, the students vanished into the Spiral Veil.
When it was Astern's turn, Seraphon watched him longer than the others.
"Be careful what you show," he said quietly. "And what you see."
Astern stepped forward—and the world twisted.
---
Inside, everything felt weightless.
He floated within a realm of mirrors and clouds, each reflection showing versions of himself—young, old, fallen, risen. But none of them were quite him.
Then a figure appeared before him.
Not Kyte. Not Seraphon.
It was a child, no older than five. He had Astern's eyes—but bore wings of shadow and light interwoven, shifting constantly. His voice echoed like a thousand whispers.
"You're not broken," the child said. "You're unfinished."
Astern moved closer. "What am I?"
"A bridge," the boy replied. "Between what was… and what must be."
Suddenly, one of the mirrored versions of Astern—one cloaked entirely in black fire—slammed against the veil.
"Don't awaken him," the child warned. "Not yet."
The spiral trembled.
A surge of raw power, equal parts divine and cursed, erupted behind him.
The realm ejected him.
---
He hit the ground outside the portal hard, gasping. Kaela and Lunaria were already there, both looking shaken.
Eryss hadn't come out yet.
"What did you see?" Lunaria asked.
Astern didn't answer. His heart was still echoing that child's words.
Unfinished.
Across the arena, Nysera watched him emerge.
Then slowly, for the first time, she bowed her head.
Not in shame.
But in warning.