The bells tolled gray light into stone. The Academy woke tense; voices were hushed but quick, like knives being sharpened. The abyss hound's howl still lingered in walls, though it had knelt. Whispers filled the gaps where silence once lived.
"They say Aldery spoke, and it obeyed.""No beast bows to words.""Then what did we see?"
Ernest dressed with calm hands. His uniform held no crease; his satchel lay ready. He closed his trunk with a click that sounded final. Across the courtyard, Celina's candle burned late again, its flame steady even in dawn's pale light.
The corridor buzzed sharper than before. Eyes followed him more openly now—some with awe, some with fear. A few with hunger.
Lecture hall three felt colder still. Halvern stood at the dais, slate and chalk ready. Behind him, two priests waited, pale-robed, their eyes too calm. The old one with lashes white as frost watched Ernest like a man watching a locked door he meant to open.
"Today," Halvern said, "we review. Containment. Discipline. Those who broke yesterday's marks will repeat until hands blister."
Students groaned. The priests smiled.
Ernest drew his rod, thread of mana thin, perfect. The hum rose steady. His breath measured, his mask unbroken.
Rowan's rod shook, but he steadied. His jaw clenched, his pride tempered. Mikel's hum was quiet, constant. Celina's burned brighter, her wrist trembling under the curse. She forced it silent. The priests leaned forward, hungry.
Halvern struck his staff. "Enough."
The rods stilled. The priests did not move. Their eyes lingered on Ernest and Celina both.
The yard drills came harder still. Serren barked, staff snapping stone. "Blades! Cut clean! No wasted noise!"
Wood cracked. Sweat dripped. Rowan's strikes were sharper, noise dulled. Mikel kept pace, honest blade steady. Celina moved like flame caged but not smothered. Ernest cut lines of silence into the air, his blade unflinching.
At the yard's edge, the priests watched. One whispered to another. The old one smiled, lips pale.
By evening, rumor was fire. The dining hall swelled with whispers sharper than knives.
"Team Two—beast bound by words.""Gold's curse didn't break her.""Stag fights steady now.""Rane—anchor of stone.""Aldery—he commands monsters."
Rowan sat straighter, no longer mocked. Mikel ate with steady calm. Celina sat apart, her beauty and curse drawing stares she ignored. Ernest ate in silence, his name on every tongue.
The priests sat at their table, white robes gleaming. Their eyes never left him.
In the dormitory corridor, whispers hushed when footsteps came. Priests walked past, slow, their gazes heavy. One paused at Celina's door, hand raised as if to touch. She opened it before he could, eyes sharp, curse burning faint at her wrist. He lowered his hand, smile thin, and moved on.
Mikel found Ernest at his door. "They push harder," he said.
"Yes."
"They want you to show more."
"Yes."
Rowan came too. His voice was low. "If they press again… I'll stand. Even if it breaks me."
"You will stand," Ernest said, "because I will not allow you to fall."
Rowan bowed his head. "Then I will hold."
Celina's shadow stretched long in the lamplight. She spoke softly, words sharp. "The gods curse me for beauty and strength. They will curse you too, Ernest Aldery, because you command what should not be commanded."
Ernest's black eyes met hers. Calm. Merciless. "Then let them curse. Their curses bend, as all else does."
In his chamber, Ernest lit his lamp. He opened his notebook.
Priests circling closer. Their hunger sharp. Veil holds still.
Rowan—loyalty forming. Noise dulled. Pride tempered.
Mikel—anchor unbroken. Dependable.
Celina—curse sharper. Endures without sound. Recognition deeper.
Priests test again soon. Their chains will not bind me.
He closed the book, stood at the window. The courtyard lay below, silvered by moonlight. Across the green, Celina's candle burned again—steady, unwavering, daring gods to break it.
His reflection in the glass met his gaze—pale, calm, merciless.
"The forest bent," he whispered. "The nobles bowed. The class envies. The beast knelt. The priests hunger."
His lips curved, thin, sharp.
"Let them. I am the Voice that commands—even in silence."