Kael sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in the polished obsidian shard he'd stolen from Vault 09. The dim candlelight flickered across its surface, warping his image slightly, but it was still him — pale skin, eyes that didn't quite belong, and a heaviness in his posture that hadn't been there just a day ago.
He looked like someone carrying another man's shadow.
And in a way, he was.
The tether to the Dread Sovereign fragment pulsed faintly in his chest, a subtle thrum beneath his heartbeat. It wasn't pain. It wasn't power, either. It was something stranger — a reminder that he wasn't alone in his own mind anymore.
And that one wrong step could let the monster bleed through.
He placed the shard back under his bed and rubbed his temples. Sleep had become a luxury. Not because of the fragment — though that would've been reason enough — but because of what the Academy would do if they ever figured out what he had done.
He had broken into Layer B7.
He had tethered himself to a fragment of the most dangerous magical entity in history.
Himself.
And worse: he'd survived.
---
By morning, the rumors had spread like fire in dry brush.
Someone had breached the lower vaults. Some said it was a rogue professor. Others swore it was a relic that had activated on its own. But those closer to the truth were starting to whisper a different name.
Kael Draven.
He walked through the Academy halls with his hood drawn low. Not because he feared attention, but because he couldn't stand the stares.
His power had grown. Everyone could feel it. Mages were sensitive to shifts in aura, and his had become unpredictable — deep, ancient, like a cold wind rushing through a crypt. Even the senior lecturers gave him second glances now.
As Kael stepped into Spell Theory class, the room quieted. Seren was already there, seated at the edge of the third row, her arms crossed and eyes watching him with the kind of scrutiny she used to reserve for wild spells.
He took a seat beside her. She didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Then, quietly, she asked, "Are you going to tell me what you did?"
Kael didn't look at her. "Depends. You going to turn me in?"
"No," she said. "But if you're going to get yourself killed, I'd like a heads up so I can mourn properly."
That pulled a laugh from him — a small, tired one.
"I went to Vault 09," he said finally.
Seren blinked. "You… actually went down there?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I found something." He hesitated. "Someone."
Seren turned toward him fully now. "Kael. What did you bring back?"
He met her eyes. "A version of me. Not… exactly. A shard. From the future."
She studied his face for a moment. "You're not joking."
"I never joke about fragments of my genocidal alter ego," he said.
Silence hung between them like a drawn blade. Seren leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a whisper.
"Then why aren't you locked up again? Or dead?"
"I didn't fight it. I tethered it."
Her eyes widened in horror. "You what?"
Before he could explain, the door slammed open and Professor Delen strode in, robes swirling. His usual cheer was gone, replaced by tight lips and tense shoulders.
"Class," he said, "we're taking a break from runic theory today. Instead, we're visiting the Arcanum Archives."
A murmur rippled through the students. The Archives were normally off-limits to all but senior scholars. Kael immediately felt something twist in his stomach.
Delen's eyes passed over the class — and rested, briefly, on Kael.
"Follow me."
---
The Arcanum Archives were buried deep beneath the east tower. They weren't just a library — they were a vault of knowledge considered too dangerous to be freely accessed. Forbidden spellwork, sealed grimoires, records of disasters long purged from the surface.
As they descended through the spiral staircase, Kael felt the tether in his chest tighten.
The fragment didn't like this place.
He kept his breathing even, focused on the silence of the walls, on the flickering torches and the faint hum of protective wards embedded in the stone.
They stopped before a large, rune-etched door. Professor Delen traced a sigil in the air, and the door slid open with a grinding groan.
The Archives were cavernous — rows upon rows of floating tomes, bound in silver chains, hovering in pale magical light. Above them, an enchanted ceiling reflected a starless sky, swirling occasionally with arcane storms.
Delen led them to the central dais.
"A fragment has escaped containment," he said abruptly.
Kael didn't flinch. But Seren, beside him, shifted slightly. Delen noticed.
"This fragment is not a creature," he continued. "It is a concept. A lingering thought. A magical echo left behind by an entity too powerful to fully die. You've all heard of the Dread Sovereign. Some of you even believe he was a myth."
Kael didn't move.
Delen's eyes landed on him again. "He was not."
The class was dead silent.
"The Sovereign's essence fractured across time and space during the Collapse. One of those shards was sealed here. Deep below us. Until last night."
Kael said nothing.
"The containment breach was subtle. But someone was there. Someone interacted with it. Possibly… someone who has now become its vessel."
He was speaking directly to Kael now.
Kael held his gaze. "And what does the Academy plan to do, if this 'someone' exists?"
Delen's lips tightened. "Observe. Interrogate. Neutralize, if necessary."
"Even if that person is a student?"
"Especially if that person is a student."
Kael smiled thinly. "Noted."
He turned as if to walk away, but Delen stepped forward.
"Kael," he said, voice low. "If it is you… fight it. Don't let it consume you. The last time the Sovereign rose, he ended countries."
Kael didn't answer. Because he remembered ending them.
Not as legend.
Not as rumor.
As fact.
---
That night, the dreams came again.
But this time, Kael didn't see fire or blood. He saw a mirror.
An endless corridor of mirrors, stretching in all directions, each reflecting a different version of him — some regal, others monstrous, some human, others barely recognizable.
He walked past them, slowly, each one whispering as he passed.
One hissed, "Let me out."
Another begged, "Let me help."
A third one simply wept.
But at the center of the corridor was a mirror that wasn't glass at all. It was smoke. A swirling, shadowed vortex that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Kael reached out.
And a hand reached back — from the inside.
Not his hand.
The Sovereign's.
When their fingertips touched, the mirror cracked.
And a voice whispered in his ear:
"They're already coming. Not to save you. To break you."
Kael woke in a cold sweat, heart pounding, breath ragged.
He sat up and reached for the obsidian shard under his bed.
But it was gone.
In its place… a note.
Written in ink that shimmered red under the moonlight.
"I know what you are. Meet me before the sun rises. Tower of Ash. Come alone. — C"
Kael read it once.
Twice.
Then he crumpled it in his fist and stood.
Cerin Voss had always been clever.
But he had no idea what he'd just invited into the dark.