Chapter 22 – The Girl Who Dreamed of His Death
The morning fog clung to the cobblestone paths of Emberlight Institute, curling around the obsidian spires and archways like ghostly fingers reluctant to let go. Kael stood at the edge of the eastern promenade, where the sun barely filtered through the hanging bridges overhead, his breath visible in the chill. A warning etched into the silence.
He had not slept.
Not after the Relic spoke again.
The fragmented spirit within the core of his chest had flickered to life in the dead of night, casting projections—ghostly memories of a monarch long dead—of a war that tore stars from the sky and sundered the tiers of ascension. It told him again: Tier Ten is not just a level. It is the union of the Self. Body, Mind, and Spirit must become one.
But the path was broken. The blueprint lost. The Relic needed repair.
And so, Kael was left stranded between the known and the unknowable, standing in the midst of a world that neither understood him nor welcomed what he represented.
"Kael of the Syncretic Path?"
The voice was soft. Melodic. But there was something strained beneath the surface—like a harp string pulled too tight.
He turned.
A girl stood a few paces behind him, her robe embroidered with the silver crescent of the Seer's Division, its threads pulsing faintly with active soul-sight. She was young, his age maybe, but her eyes were older than they should've been—milky violet, flecked with lines of starlight. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the morning mist, and her presence… unsettling.
"I've been told people here don't use full names unless they want a fight," Kael said carefully.
The girl tilted her head. "I dreamed of your death. Ten times. In ten ways."
Silence.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "That's a hell of an opening line."
"In none of them did you reach Tier Ten." She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. "But in two of them… you changed the world before you died."
Kael's hand drifted near his side, where his binding glyph was inked beneath the skin—a safety seal for calling on the Relic. The girl raised an eyebrow, sensing his alertness.
"I'm not your enemy. If I was, you'd already be bleeding."
"Forgive me if I don't take comfort in that."
She sighed. "My name is Lirae Veyne. I'm a third-year Adept of the Seer's Division. And I believe your relic is screaming."
Kael's spine stiffened.
"You've seen it?"
"Felt it," she said. "Something ancient—loud and broken. It called to me last night while I was in trance. Showed me a battlefield of stars… and a gate made of fused aspects. Then your face."
Kael had never told anyone about the final image from his relic's projection. A gate forged of unified energy: body like a sun, spirit like a storm, mind like a prism of endless mirrors. A door to something more.
"How do I know you're not manipulating me?"
Lirae chuckled. "You don't. But if your relic continues pulsing like that in open aura channels, the Headmaster's Sentinels will descend by nightfall. Tier Ten cultivation is not… tolerated."
Kael stepped closer. "How do you know about Tier Ten?"
She paused, then pulled back her sleeve. A pale symbol glowed there—an ouroboros consuming itself, inked with dreamroot essence.
"I belong to the Circle of the Hollow Veil," she whispered. "We remember what others chose to forget."
Kael's mind reeled. The Hollow Veil. An underground sect said to gather Tier Ten fragments. Most thought them mad. Dangerous.
She met his gaze. "And you, Kael, are the first real chance we've had in centuries."
Before he could speak, a sharp blast echoed across the stone square. The bells of the Combat Wing. A duel had been declared.
A crowd surged around them—students in ember-threaded robes, excited and bloodthirsty.
From across the ring, Riven Valemir stood, smirking, arms folded over his chest. His squad stood behind him, draped in the crimson and onyx of House Valemir.
The announcer's voice rang out:
"By the right of challenge, Initiate Kael of No House has been summoned to duel for honor and standing. Refusal shall mark him as Coward and Void-Blood."
Lirae stepped forward. "They'll use the duel to disable your relic. If it's loud enough to be heard, it can be struck."
Kael's jaw tensed. Riven wasn't after a fight.
He was after the Relic.
And perhaps… the power it whispered of.
Lirae placed a smooth obsidian token into his hand—a Seer's sigil.
"Come see me after. If you survive."
Then she vanished into the crowd, leaving Kael alone as the circle formed and the crowd roared.
Riven grinned.
"I've heard you're special, Kael," he said, voice smooth like poisoned honey. "Let's see what that looks like… broken on the ground."
Kael stepped into the ring, pulse slow, mind razor-sharp.
He was ready.
And for the first time since arriving at Emberlight, he no longer felt alone.