Night settled over Aurevale Academy, calm and heavy. The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled of lightning. Students slept quietly in their dorms.
All except one.
Kael lay on his bed, eyes closed but mind alert. He didn't dream — assassins rarely did. His body was still, his breathing slow, but his senses stretched outward like invisible threads.
Then—a whisper of movement.A faint click of the window latch.
They're here.
He rolled off the bed just as a dagger hissed through the air, slicing the pillow clean in half. Feathers exploded across the room.
Two figures in black slipped through the open window — faces hidden, movements smooth and practiced.
"Stormblood," one hissed, voice low. "The Syndicate sends its regards."
Kael stood slowly, cracking his neck. "You could've just sent a letter."
The first assassin lunged forward, twin daggers flashing. Kael sidestepped, caught the attacker's wrist, and slammed him into the desk. Wood splintered. The second came from behind — silent, fast — but Kael spun, his knee driving into the man's ribs before twisting the dagger out of his hand.
They were good. Not common killers — trained Syndicate agents.
The first assassin recovered quickly, flipping backward and drawing a thin, curved blade. "You shouldn't have interfered, Stormblood. The girl was marked."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "She's under my protection."
"Then you die with her."
The assassin struck again, faster this time. Steel clashed in the small room, sparks flying as Kael blocked and redirected each blow with sharp, efficient movements. His expression stayed calm, eyes glowing faintly with a dangerous blue hue.
When the second assassin joined in, Kael ducked low and swept both legs out in a single motion, sending them sprawling.
The first assassin snarled and threw a smoke bomb. The room was filled with dark mist. Kael closed his eyes, feeling the air — listening.
A faint whisper of cloth. A breath.
Lightning crackled faintly along his fingers. The scent of ozone filled the air.
The first strike came from the right. Kael turned, grabbed the assassin's arm mid-swing, and drove his palm into the man's chest. A pulse of blue light burst out — a short, controlled surge of lightning. The assassin convulsed and dropped.
The second tried to retreat through the window. Kael reached out, hand glowing, and flicked his wrist.
A lightning arc shot across the room — striking the metal of the fleeing man's dagger. He screamed as energy crawled up his arm and sent him crashing to the floor.
Kael walked forward, silent. His bare feet left faint scorch marks on the wooden floor. Both assassins were down, breathing but unconscious.
He crouched beside them, checking the insignia burned into their gloves — a serpent coiled around a dagger.
"The Syndicate, huh?" he muttered. "Persistent as ever."
He stood, glancing at the tower outside his window — tall, sharp, perfect for a message.
Hours later, the first rays of dawn touched Aurevale's spires. Students awoke to shouts echoing from the courtyard.
Two black-clad bodies hung bound by their own weapons from the east tower, high above the academy gates. A mark was burned into the stone below them — a single streak of lightning, seared deep.
A warning.
The instructors hushed the gossip quickly, claiming it was "a prank by delinquents," but whispers spread fast.
Kael sat quietly in class that morning, listening to the noise fade around him. His sleeve covered the fresh cut on his arm — shallow, but it stung—the cost of keeping secrets.
When lessons ended, he slipped out early, walking toward the library courtyard. He needed quiet. But fate, as always, had other plans.
"Elara," someone called. She turned — and saw Kael sitting alone under a willow tree, cleaning a faint bloodstain off his sleeve.
Her eyes softened. "You're hurt."
Kael glanced up. "It's nothing."
She stepped closer anyway, kneeling beside him. "You say that every time."
He sighed. "Because it's true."
Before he could move, she reached out, her hands glowing faintly with golden light. Warmth spread through the air — gentle, steady. Kael felt the sting in his arm fade as the wound closed.
He blinked. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," she said softly. "You've helped others. Let someone help you for once."
He hesitated. Kindness was rare in his world — rarer than trust. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough," she said, looking up at him with calm, golden eyes. "You act like you don't care, but I've seen you. The way you watch over people… even when you pretend not to."
For a moment, he didn't know what to say. His heart — the same one hardened by years of killing — felt something unfamiliar—a flicker of warmth.
He looked away. "You're reading too much into it."
"Maybe," she said with a small smile. "Or maybe I'm right."
Kael stood, pulling his sleeve back down. "You should be careful around people like me."
"Then I'll just have to make you less dangerous," she said, standing too.
He paused mid-step, glancing at her. "Good luck with that."
She smiled faintly. "Challenge accepted."
That night, as the academy lights dimmed, Kael sat by the window again, staring at the towers.
The Syndicate's message had been received. He knew they wouldn't stop — but now, they'd think twice before crossing him directly.
He leaned back, staring up at the stars. His arm still tingled faintly from Elara's healing magic.
He whispered to himself, voice low. "You really shouldn't care, Kael… it only makes things harder."
But for the first time in years, his tone didn't sound convinced.
Thunder rolled faintly in the distance — not loud, but promising.
The storm wasn't gone.It was only waiting.