The storm hadn't passed — it had only crouched low over the Academy, watching.
By the time the thunder faded, rain had begun to fall in thin, slanting threads, tracing silver rivers down the tall windows of the corridor.
The storm hadn't broken yet — it lingered above the Academy like a question that refused to be answered.
Rynna walked quickly, arms folded around herself, her mind spinning with the image she couldn't erase — fire shaped like wings, Kael's eyes burning gold, the world trembling around him. Every step echoed with doubt.
Behind her, a faint splash followed her pace.
She turned slightly, scanning the shadows. "Liran?" she whispered.
He stepped out from beneath an archway, his cloak damp and his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't be walking alone tonight."
Rynna exhaled shakily. "Neither should you."
He gave a faint, tired smile. "I wasn't."
They fell into step together, silent at first. The only sound was the wind dragging through the trees and the quiet rumble of thunder circling the sky.
"You saw it too," Rynna finally said.
Liran nodded. "Yeah. Hard to forget something like that."
She looked at him, searching his face. "What do you think it was?"
He hesitated before answering. "Not magic — at least, not the kind they teach us. That looked older. Wilder."
"Then how does Kael fit into it?"
"That's what scares me," Liran murmured. "He shouldn't. None of us should."
They reached the courtyard that branched toward the east dorms. The lamps there flickered — once, twice — then steadied again. The air seemed charged, as if even the storm held its breath.
Rynna stopped walking. "Liran… what if the Empire's been lying to us all along?"
He looked at her, rain dripping from his hair. "You think they haven't?"
She frowned. "I mean about everything — the gods, the fire, even the Academy. What if all of this was built to keep something buried?"
Liran's eyes hardened slightly. "Then Kael just unearthed it."
They stood there in the half-light, both realizing the weight of what that meant. Somewhere deep beneath the Academy, the hum that had shaken the stones earlier seemed to whisper again, faint and steady — like a pulse.
Rynna shivered. "We have to tell someone."
"Who?" Liran asked sharply. "The Inquisitors? The same people who burned half the archives last month to 'protect purity'? No. We keep this between us — until we know what we're dealing with."
Rynna bit her lip, hesitating. "And Kael?"
He met her eyes. "Especially Kael. For now."
⸻
The dorm hallways were dim, quiet except for the soft drip of water from the ceiling. Most students had shut their doors tight; a storm like this always brought rumors of curses and omens.
Rynna reached her room but paused at the door. "You're really not going to tell him?"
Liran leaned against the wall, his gaze distant. "He's dangerous, Rynna. You saw it — that fire wasn't human."
She turned to face him, anger flashing beneath her worry. "He wasn't hurting anyone! He looked terrified, Liran. Whatever's happening to him, he's not the cause."
Liran's tone softened, but his words stayed firm. "And what if he is? What if whatever's inside him is just waiting to finish what the gods started?"
Rynna said nothing. She didn't have an answer — just the image of Kael kneeling, smoke rising around him, the world holding its breath.
Liran sighed and turned to leave. "Get some rest. We'll figure it out tomorrow."
She watched him disappear down the hall, his shadow stretching long against the lamplight until it vanished around the corner. When the silence settled again, it wasn't comforting. It was listening.
⸻
That night, Rynna couldn't sleep.
The storm pressed against the windows, thunder crawling like a heartbeat through the walls. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames — not burning, but alive, coiling like something sentient.
At some point near midnight, she sat up suddenly. The window across her room glowed faintly red for an instant — then darkened again.
She froze.
Then, heart pounding, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her cloak, and stepped into the corridor.
The halls were darker than before, and colder. The lamps along the corridor guttered weakly, and somewhere far below, she could hear that low hum again — deeper now, like a pulse beneath the stone.
She followed it.
Down one stairwell, then another. Past the courtyard, toward the older wings of the Academy that students weren't supposed to enter. Her steps echoed, the air thick with damp and the scent of iron.
When she turned a corner, she saw him.
Kael stood in the center of an abandoned chamber, his back to her. The air shimmered faintly around him, the faint glow of emberlight dancing across the walls. He wasn't burning — but the mark over his heart glowed faintly through his shirt, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Kael…" Rynna whispered.
He turned. His eyes were normal — human — but weary, haunted.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly.
"I could say the same for you."
He looked down at his hands. They trembled faintly, a trace of smoke still curling between his fingers. "I thought it would stop after earlier. But it's getting worse."
Rynna stepped closer, her voice low. "What's happening to you?"
Kael hesitated. "It's like something inside me remembers things I don't. The fire… it reacts to memories I never lived."
"Then they aren't just memories," she said quietly. "They're echoes."
Kael looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
Rynna swallowed, unsure why she said it. "The Codex said the flame doesn't die. It only waits."
Before Kael could answer, a loud crack echoed through the chamber. The sigils along the floor — old, almost invisible — flared red for an instant.
Both of them froze.
"What was that?" Rynna breathed.
Kael took a step back. "Something's waking up."
The air thickened. A low, rhythmic sound began again beneath their feet — not the hum of machinery, but something alive. The faint outlines of ancient runes began to glow in the stone walls, one after another, spreading outward from where Kael stood.
Then, from the shadows behind them, a voice whispered — smooth, cold, and almost human:
"Found you."
The torches went out.
⸻
The chamber plunged into darkness.
Rynna grabbed Kael's arm. "Kael—what—"
He moved instinctively, pulling her back as a shape materialized in the dark — metallic, shifting, cloaked in faint light. It stepped forward, and its face was covered by a porcelain mask etched with symbols of the old gods.
A Warden.
An ancient construct — one that shouldn't even exist anymore.
Kael's eyes flared faintly gold. "Run."
But before Rynna could react, the Warden spoke again — and this time, it wasn't a command.
It was recognition.
"Vessel of the Flame," it said, its voice echoing like metal on stone. "The world remembers."
And the floor split open beneath them.