Chapter 10
The academy's halls felt colder now.
Not from temperature, but from the weight of hidden eyes. After the revelation in the library, Astern began noticing changes. More instructors lingered near Dorm D's training grounds. Clerics from the higher courts passed by more often. Even the skyward beasts that circled the towers seemed to fly lower.
Kaela still treated him the same—sparring each morning, dragging him to the mess hall, laughing too loud in quiet places. But Lunaria had grown more careful, her eyes sharper, her posture more defensive in public.
They knew it, too. Something had shifted.
But no one said it aloud.
Until one night, Selkyr summoned Astern alone.
She led him to the northern observation platform. Above them, galaxies wheeled like living mosaics. Selkyr leaned against the stone railing, arms crossed.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Astern?" she asked, voice low.
He shook his head.
"Two halves that shouldn't coexist," she said. "But somehow do."
Astern stayed silent.
"I've fought in three demonic incursions. I've seen what ghouls become when corrupted. I've also seen what angels become when afraid."
She turned toward him.
"Make no mistake. If the wrong people realize what you are, they won't hesitate. They'll use you, contain you, or end you."
Astern's hands curled into fists. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because the inter-academy tournament is coming," she said. "And you'll be on the front lines. If you make too much noise… too many eyes will turn."
He exhaled slowly. "I don't want war."
Selkyr's gaze narrowed. "Then learn when to hide your fire."
---
The next week moved like a storm. Preparations for the tournament consumed every spare moment. Sanctum Astrae would be facing off against four other celestial academies across the inner ring of the Archangel's realm.
Only the top students would be selected.
From Dorm D, the names were no surprise: Astern, Kaela, Lunaria.
They were called into a tactical briefing, where maps and terrain projections rotated in midair. Seraphon himself led the lecture this time, though his eyes kept drifting to Astern.
"This is not a war," he said calmly. "But your performance will decide whether your house rises… or vanishes."
Kaela nudged Astern. "No pressure, right?"
He didn't laugh.
He couldn't.
Because behind Seraphon, barely visible in the room's mirrored wall, stood a silhouette in silver robes.
A watcher.
No reflection. No aura.
But Astern saw it. And it saw him.
---
That night, as stars blinked silently over Sanctum Astrae, the watchers moved.
Not all of them were from this world.
One stood atop the spine of a distant ruined planet—the Ghoul world, now scarred and blackened.
Another moved in shadows beneath the courts of the angels, whispering secrets to nobles who feared lost bloodlines.
And the third... drifted between them all, bound not by loyalty, but by prophecy.
In the heart of the academy, Astern lay in bed, eyes wide open.
He wasn't afraid.
He was waiting.
Because whatever was coming—whatever had been waiting for him—was already on the move.