The courtyard smelled of ozone and wet stone. Healers moved between the wounded, their robes streaked with ash and blood. Instructors barked orders, sending students back to their dorms under heavy guard.
Thalen sat on the steps of the East Wing, a wool blanket draped around his shoulders. He wasn't cold — not in the usual way — but the blanket gave his shaking hands something to clutch.
Serenya sat beside him, her sword resting across her knees, blade chipped from the fight. "You should be in the infirmary."
"I'm fine," Thalen said.
She gave him a flat look. "You just took on the leader of the Shadowkin. You're not fine."
Finn jogged over, having just finished talking to an instructor. "The headmaster's calling a full lockdown. No one in or out until they figure out how the wards got breached."
"Any ideas?" Thalen asked.
Finn hesitated. "Rumor is… someone on the inside let them in."
The words sat between them like a stone in water.
Before Thalen could respond, the Headmaster himself appeared, flanked by two armored wardens. His long coat was scorched, his staff humming faintly with contained magic.
"Aric," he said, voice carrying easily over the noise of the courtyard. "With me."
Thalen rose, every muscle tense. Serenya started to stand too, but the Headmaster held up a hand. "Alone."
He led Thalen through the silent halls, past windows where frost still clung in jagged patterns. They stopped before a tall oak door reinforced with silver sigils — the Headmaster's office.
Inside, Kael was already waiting.
Thalen stiffened.
"Close the door," the Headmaster said.
The heavy latch clicked shut, sealing them in.
Kael stepped forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "You've been busy, boy. Very impressive display out there."
Thalen crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"Only to help," Kael said smoothly. "You're untrained, unrefined… and yet you channeled a power no one has seen in centuries. That kind of gift needs guidance."
"From you?" Thalen scoffed.
Kael's smile didn't waver. "From someone who understands what you are. The Firstborn were not just a race, Thalen. They were architects of magic itself. That voice you hear? It's not just some phantom — it's a fragment of what you're meant to be."
Thalen's pulse spiked. "How do you know about the voice?"
Kael's eyes gleamed. "Because you're not the first to hear it."
The Headmaster cut in sharply. "That's enough."
Kael's expression cooled, but he stepped back.
The Headmaster turned to Thalen. "You're a target now. The Shadowkin will return, and next time they won't test you — they'll take you. I'm placing you under restricted movement. No leaving Academy grounds. No unsupervised training."
Thalen clenched his fists. "So I just sit here and wait?"
"Until we know who to trust — yes," the Headmaster said. "And there is something else."
He crossed to a shelf and pulled down a thin metal case. Inside was a shard of black glass, faintly pulsing with green light.
"This was found where the rift closed," the Headmaster said. "Kael believes it's a key fragment. I believe it's a danger we don't understand."
Thalen stared at it — and the moment his eyes locked on the shard, the voice in his head whispered one word:
Door.
His breath caught. "The sealed door in the west wing."
The Headmaster's gaze sharpened. "What do you know about it?"
"Nothing," Thalen said quickly, but the voice in his head laughed — low and knowing.
Kael stepped closer, his tone oily with interest. "Then perhaps it's time you learned."
The Headmaster's staff struck the floor. "Enough. This conversation is over."
But as Thalen left the office under the wardens' escort, the voice spoke again, louder now.
They can't keep you from it forever. The door was built for you.