Chapter 38
News of Astern's trial spread like wildfire.
By midday, his name rippled through the dorms, the halls, and even the capital-accredited classes. Some whispered of his elegance, others questioned his origins. But one truth anchored them all: Sanctum Astrae had changed.
He'd become the unignorable anomaly.
Still, the academy didn't stop.
Classes resumed. Assignments were issued. Missions were scheduled. And though his promotion was still fresh ink on parchment, Astern was summoned to the Headmaster's wing within a day.
Not by Principal Seraphon.
But by someone older.
Lyssan.
---
The Council Hall was quiet, lined with moving starlight projections—worlds flickering in slow orbit. Lyssan sat at a crescent-shaped table, alone.
"You've drawn the eye of the Thrones," she said without preamble.
Astern stood at ease. "I assumed."
"The Archangel will not act yet. But his attention is on you."
She leaned forward.
"You should be cautious of that."
"I already am."
Lyssan nodded once. "Then let me offer a choice."
A scroll floated from her palm, hovering between them.
"Take this and join an external mission team. It's early. But it will grant you access to one of the border outposts—the shattered reaches near Ghorran's Edge. We've intercepted demonic tremors from below the surface. Weak, but rising."
Astern took the scroll. "You're sending me to war?"
"To learn how close it is."
---
That night, Astern sat on the rooftop of Dorm D. The stars above blinked in silence, a distant chorus of indifferent gods.
Kaela found him there.
"They want you gone?"
"No," he said. "They want to see what I'll do when I'm not watched."
She joined him, legs folded. "Are you going?"
He looked at the scroll. "I think I have to."
Lunaria arrived minutes later, hair windblown and arms crossed. "Then we're going too."
"Lunaria—"
"Don't argue," she cut in. "You'll need someone to make sure you don't use that blade unless you have to."
Kaela grinned. "And someone to keep score of how many demons we take down."
Astern gave them both a long look.
And then—just slightly—he smiled.
---
By morning, their applications had been approved.
Team assignments were made.
And the three stood before a portal gate etched with fire-forged runes, ready to step into Ghorran's Edge—a place where the war never truly stopped, only slept.
A storm was waiting.
And for the first time since his wings had flickered in the dark, Astern was walking straight into it.