Kael had never believed in destiny. It sounded too much like an excuse.
But standing in Master Verren's hidden chamber, with iron-sigil embers still pulsing at the edge of perception, he wondered if he'd misunderstood it. Maybe destiny wasn't a path someone followed—but a trap someone set.
And right now, he felt like he'd stepped into one.
Rin crouched beside the sigil, now inert. Her fingers hovered just above it, like it might snap awake and drag them into another vision. Kael could still feel the afterimage of the ancient city burning into his skull.
"You said it wasn't a tool," she said. "What does that make it?"
Kael looked up. "A parasite. A language. A legacy. Take your pick."
"I'll pick nightmare," Rin muttered.
Back in the apprentice quarters, Kael's door was ajar. That was the first warning.
The second was the scent. Not smoke—scorched air. A telltale sign of sigil overuse. Someone had been here. Recently.
He stepped inside, heart thudding. Nothing looked out of place… until he turned toward his desk.
The journal was gone.
"Of course it is," he said under his breath, scanning for any other disturbance. Then he saw the corner of a folded paper tucked beneath the desk lamp.
A note.
*You are not the only one listening.Stay silent, or we silence you.
S*
Rin read it three times before crumpling it. "They're watching."
"Always have been," Kael said. "But this means someone in the academy knows about the sigils. About Verren. About me."
She hesitated. "Do you think it's the Masters?"
"No." He shook his head. "Too subtle. This reeks of students. Someone hungry."
That evening, Kael climbed the highest tower—The Veilspire. No one came here willingly. It was old, brittle with time, and whispered to be cursed. But Kael needed distance. And silence.
He sat on the edge of the ruined balcony, watching the stars blur into clouds. The sigil on his back tingled again. It wasn't pain, just... awareness.
Like it had seen the person who took the journal.
"Let me guess," he said aloud to no one. "Another power surge, another cryptic warning, and another person trying to kill me."
He heard a soft snort behind him.
Fenn stood at the threshold, arms crossed.
"You talk to yourself now?"
Kael didn't answer. Fenn joined him, boots crunching against broken stone.
"You weren't in your room," Fenn said.
"Someone else was."
Fenn raised a brow. "You're being watched."
"Everyone's being watched. I'm just the idiot who noticed."
They sat in silence for a while. Then Fenn spoke again.
"You know, you were different when you came here."
Kael smirked. "Less sarcastic?"
Fenn shook his head. "Less scared."
That wiped the smirk away.
"I'm not scared," Kael said flatly.
Fenn didn't answer. Because they both knew it was a lie.
Later that night, Kael returned to his quarters, only to find a small slip of paper tucked under his pillow. No threats this time. Just a location:
Third bell. East courtyard. Come alone.
He debated ignoring it. But instinct whispered otherwise.
The east courtyard was wrapped in mist by the time Kael arrived. The old training stones—giant slabs etched with worn sigils—stood like sentinels in the fog.
A figure stepped from the mist.
Not a student.
Not a Master.
She wore the academy robes, but the crest on her shoulder was… different. Ancient. A stylized eye within a burning circle.
Kael tensed.
"You're brave," she said softly. Her voice was smooth—measured. "Or stupid."
He held his ground. "Is there a difference?"
She smiled, amused. "Yes. But most who ask don't live to find it."
Kael's sigil pulsed faintly on his back, sensing her presence. Whoever she was, she wasn't an ordinary mage.
"What do you want?"
"I want to offer you truth," she said. "The kind buried in blood and ash. The kind they erased from your textbooks."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want in return?"
Her smile faded.
"Your silence. For now."
She tossed something at his feet. A leather-bound object. Familiar.
His journal.
Kael knelt, eyes scanning it for tampering. None. Not that he could tell.
"I thought the person who took it wanted to silence me," he said.
"They do," she replied. "But I don't."
He looked up sharply. "Then who are you?"
She hesitated. "I was Verren's student. Before he became a Master."
That gave him pause.
"He said you died."
She laughed softly. "He had to say that. The truth is more complicated."
Kael frowned. "Then tell me."
She studied him, eyes gleaming in the torchlight.
"In time," she said. "For now, remember this: the sigils weren't a gift. They were a shackle. Your ancestors bled for the chance to forget them."
"And yet," Kael said dryly, "here we are."
She smiled. "Indeed."
Then she stepped back into the mist and vanished.
Back in his room, Kael opened the journal again. This time, there was something new inside. Folded into the center pages—a map. Crude, hand-drawn. It showed the academy, the town below it, and a location beyond the eastern ridge, deep into the old woods.
Next to it, a single word.
Ascension.
Kael sat for a long time after that.
He wasn't just caught in a web anymore.
He was starting to pull on the strands.
And whatever was watching from the dark?
It had started to notice.