Morning broke unevenly.
The sky above the House of Echoes didn't rise in a steady gradient of light—it pulsed, flickered, shattered and rebuilt itself with every surge of thought and feeling across the waking world. Dreams still leaked into reality, and sometimes reality leaked back.
Kael stood at the center of the courtyard, the ground etched with runic spirals—not spells, but anchors, symbols of stability to help his students resist the pull of uncontrolled will. Around him, whispers of awe rippled as the newest addition to the House stepped into the circle: Nyra.
Her presence was quiet but crushing. Shadows trailed her like silk ribbons, flicking and curling with every subtle shift of her body. Where she walked, the grass dimmed, not dead but forgotten.
Lyra watched from the edge, bow across her back, arms folded tight. Her eyes never left Nyra, every muscle prepared for the moment something went wrong.
Kael's voice carried through the courtyard like steady fire.
"Today," he said, "we begin with the simplest lesson: control through intention. The Abyss is instinct—raw, infinite, and hungry. You can't kill it. You can't chain it. You can only teach it to listen."
Nyra tilted her head, her smile a blade hidden in silk.
"And what if it refuses?"
"Then you will refuse," Kael said calmly. "Not the Abyss. You."
Something flickered in her eyes—a strange, almost vulnerable curiosity. Then the smile widened.
"Show me."
Kael drew a line in the air with his hand, and light bent to his will, forming a sphere of radiant threads. "Anchor to this. Hold your shadows still."
Nyra's expression sharpened, shadows lashing outward like living smoke before curling back at her feet. For a moment, silence. Then—the ground cracked.
Students gasped as black tendrils struck out, devouring Kael's anchor in one breath.
Kael didn't flinch. "Again."
Nyra's voice was cool and sharp. "You asked for restraint. I gave you hunger."
"You gave me proof that you're afraid," Kael countered, stepping closer, his eyes burning like suns. "Power lashes when it feels unworthy of control."
The shadows stilled. Her face didn't move—but something broke behind her calm.
Then, it happened.
The courtyard split in two. Not physically, but conceptually. Reality rippled, and the students stumbled as two versions of the same world overlapped—one where Kael stood firm, one where he knelt broken.
Gasps erupted. Some students screamed. Lyra raised her bow.
Kael lifted a hand sharply. "No one moves!"
He turned to Nyra, his voice low but commanding.
"You fractured possibility. You didn't just summon power—you rewrote the present."
Nyra's lips curved. "You said choice is freedom. I gave this world two choices."
"And neither will survive," Kael said, his aura igniting with threads of gold. "If you can't hold them together… you'll rip this reality apart."
The shadows trembled. The Abyss within Nyra pulsed like a second heartbeat, and for the first time—she looked afraid.
Kael reached out, pressing his hand against the fractured line. His voice softened.
"Lesson two: Creation without consequence is destruction. Choose. Now."
Nyra hesitated. The courtyard shook harder. The sky screamed with color.
Then—her hand rose. Shadows coiled back like wounded serpents, and the fracture sealed.
The students exhaled in relief. Lyra lowered her bow, eyes like flint.
Kael stepped back, studying Nyra's trembling hands. "You're learning," he said.
Nyra lifted her gaze, and in those black eyes burned something Kael had feared to see—
not submission, but awakening.
> "You teach me to choose," she whispered. "But when the time comes… will you let me choose you?"
Kael said nothing.
Because he wasn't sure what terrified him more—the question, or the fact that a part of him already knew the answer.
And above them, unseen, the Abyss smiled.