The estate grounds were wrapped in the soft hush of early morning mist. A silver sheen glistened on the dew-covered hedges as Caelum walked alone through the side garden, the one near the stables where few people ventured this early.
He couldn't sleep.
Even the warmth of the secret library visit with Elowen still lingered in his chest, a soft ache of something sweet and new… but it wasn't enough to quiet the churning questions in his head.
That line in the notebook…
She smiled without fear today.
It was gentle, kind, maybe even a little hopeful.
But it also confirmed one terrifying truth: someone or something is watching.
And as the wind picked up around him, he had a sudden, sharp feeling — not of being watched… but of being behind. Like someone else had already started running while he was just figuring out where the race began.
Later that morning, Caelum found himself trailing behind a pair of young footmen near the market gate. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But when one of them muttered "The Golden Son of Valewyn," Caelum stopped walking altogether.
"That's what they're calling him now?" the younger one asked, shifting the sack of potatoes on his shoulder.
"Aye. The Headmaster himself summoned him for private training. They say he tamed a storm wyvern without flinching."
Caelum's breath caught.
He knew that name.
He knew that scene.
That's from Chapter 14 of the novel… It's starting.
In the book, the hero — a boy named Leonhart Everfall — was fate's chosen. Brilliant, brave, naturally blessed. And utterly infuriating.
But more than that, he was a hurricane that destroyed everything in his path without ever meaning to.
Including Caelum.And Elowen.
He'll meet her at the Academy… charm her, then reject her. He'll pretend to help her, then label her a danger. He'll kill the boy who stood by her and say it was mercy.
Caelum felt bile rise in his throat.
No. Not this time.
That evening, he sat under the tall oak in the garden, notebook in hand, flipping through the entries. Most of them were small — innocuous observations written in tidy, slanted script that was definitely not his own.
But tonight, one line shimmered faintly gold:
Another name enters the page. The game begins.
No sound. No glowing effects. No alert from a "system."
Just… that.
Still, Caelum's grip on the notebook tightened.
"Are you writing again?" Elowen asked, appearing at his side.
He nearly jumped. "Elowen—! How do you always sneak up like that?"
She smirked and sat beside him, folding her legs underneath her. "Magic."
"Not funny."
"A little funny."
Caelum smiled despite himself.
She held something in her hand — a small charm made of silver and braided cord. It looked like a flower with curling petals, and in the center was a smooth pale gem that shimmered blue when the light hit it.
"I made this," she said, shyly now. "It's… warded. Very lightly. It won't stop a blade, but it might confuse someone trying to read your thoughts."
Caelum blinked.
"Why?"
She looked down. "You worry too much. I can feel it. Your aura—" She hesitated, then forged ahead. "It's always… tense. Like something's chasing you."
He stared at the charm.
"Elowen," he said quietly, "thank you."
She looked at him — and this time, didn't look away when their eyes met. The silence between them was soft, not awkward. Like a held breath they weren't ready to exhale yet.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"Will you leave soon? For the Academy?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I need to."
"…Good," she said. "You need to find your path."
And protect you before someone else finds theirs, he thought but didn't say.
She leaned her head against his shoulder — gently, briefly, like she was testing the space and finding it safe. "Just don't change too much."
"I promise," he whispered.
Later that night, alone in his room, Caelum opened the notebook again.
A new page had appeared.
This time, there was no shimmering. No glowing font. Just one line, written in deep crimson ink:
You were never meant to walk his path. But now… you might outrun him.
Beneath it, a thin progress bar flickered once — System Initialization: 4% — then faded into blank parchment.
Caelum stared for a long time.
Outside, the wind shifted direction.
And far away in the capital, a boy with sun-gold hair smiled as a storm wyvern bowed its head at his feet.