Light.
That was all Kael could see — endless, weightless light, too bright to be real. Then came the sound — a slow, heavy rhythm like a heartbeat, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once.
He reached out, but his hands didn't move. The world rippled. And then—
Darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on cold stone.
Rain.
He could hear it before he saw it — the soft tap of it against glass, faint thunder rolling somewhere distant.
He sat up abruptly. The air was damp, the light dim and golden — the Academy's infirmary.
His thoughts scrambled. The pillar. The Warden. The voice. The light—
Rynna.
He turned sharply. She was there, sitting by the edge of the cot, her head resting against her arms. Her cloak was soaked, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But she was breathing.
"Rynna," he rasped.
Her eyes fluttered open. The instant she saw him awake, she straightened, relief flooding her face — though it didn't reach her voice.
"You've been out since dawn," she whispered. "They found us near the west atrium. Said the floor collapsed."
Kael blinked, his mind struggling to bridge the missing hours. "Collapsed…?"
She nodded. "The chamber — it's gone. There's nothing there now. Just stone."
For a moment, neither spoke. The rain outside whispered against the glass like a secret trying to be remembered.
Kael finally looked down. His hands trembled faintly. The mark over his heart still glowed — but differently now. Before, it had burned like fire. Now, it pulsed like something alive.
Rynna noticed. "It's changed."
He covered it quickly. "I know."
Before she could say more, the door creaked open. Liran stepped inside, pale and tense. "So it's true," he said. "You're awake."
Rynna rose immediately. "Where have you been?"
"Trying to make sure no one asks too many questions," Liran said flatly. "The Inquisitors already sealed off the west wing. They think it was a foundation fault."
Kael frowned. "And they believe that?"
"For now," Liran said. Then his gaze shifted, landing on Kael — specifically, on the faint light under his shirt. "But that won't last. Whatever happened down there… it left traces. The kind they'll notice soon."
Kael said nothing. He didn't have to. The hum — the same low vibration that had haunted the corridors — was still there. Only now, it came from him.
Liran exhaled slowly. "We need to decide what to do before they do."
Rynna crossed her arms. "You mean hide him?"
Liran's eyes didn't waver. "If we don't, they'll take him."
Thunder cracked outside, shaking the windows. For a heartbeat, Kael saw a reflection in the glass — not his own, but the faint outline of wings made of light and ash.
When he looked again, they were gone.
"I don't think hiding will help," Kael said quietly. "Something followed us back."
Rynna turned sharply toward him. "What do you mean?"
But Kael didn't answer. His gaze had gone distant, his pulse syncing with the low hum in the floor. Outside, the rain slowed — and every lamp in the corridor flickered at once, dimming to embers.
Liran looked toward the door. "Kael?"
He stood slowly, eyes unfocused — listening to something only he could hear.
Then, softly, almost too quiet to catch, he murmured:
"They're not gone."
And from somewhere deep beneath the Academy, the hum answered.