The bells tolled, but their sound was thin, like glass struck at its weakest point. The Trial of Mirrors had left a mark deeper than stone. No student woke that morning without remembering shards of their own reflection, cracked across the courtyard for all to see.
Whispers carried heavier now, not just rumor but fear.
"They stood in the hall of mirrors.""Their flaws were shown, but they did not break.""Aldery silenced them. Even illusions bowed.""Gold's curse flared. Stag faltered. Rane stood. But Aldery—he commands what should not obey."
Some voices spoke with awe, hushed as though naming something divine. Others hissed envy and suspicion, unwilling to admit fear.
"Unnatural.""Blasphemy.""He will bring ruin on us all."
When Team Two crossed the courtyard, students did not just part. They stared. Some with admiration, others with dread.
Rowan's face flushed under the weight of their gazes. He walked taller than before, but every whisper of his yielding in the mirrors stabbed his pride anew.
Mikel walked with the same calm stride as always. If the voices reached him, he gave no sign.
Celina's emerald eyes cut straight ahead. Nobles who dared whisper about her curse lowered their voices when her gaze brushed over them. Her beauty drew them close, her silence pushed them away.
Ernest walked calm, merciless, his black eyes steady. He neither acknowledged nor dismissed the whispers. He let them swirl, heavier, sharper, until the air bent to his silence.
Lecture hall three buzzed more than usual. Halvern lectured quickly, his chalk scraping fast, as if hoping the noise of his words could drown the tension. He avoided the priests' gazes, though they sat in their usual row at the back.
Students barely listened. Their eyes kept straying to Team Two.
When Rowan answered a question correctly, mutters spread. The boy who yielded, now sharper.When Mikel's voice carried steady through his answer, whispers followed. Stone unshaken.When Celina spoke of flame's restraint, eyes narrowed. The cursed girl, her fire chained.When Ernest spoke—only a few words—silence rippled through the room. His classmates leaned closer, not to hear, but because the air itself bent toward his voice.
The old priest with lashes white as frost smiled faintly.
The yard was no relief. Students struck harder, louder, desperate to prove themselves before the eyes of instructors and priests. Rivalries burned hotter. Nobles who once mocked Rowan now gave him sharp looks, measuring. Others eyed Mikel, envious of his steadiness. A few whispered Celina's name with hunger and fear in equal measure.
And Ernest—he was no longer just watched. He was marked.
"He commands even lies.""Not human.""Not safe."
Rowan pressed harder in drills, determined to sharpen pride into strength. His arms burned, his breath tore, but he did not yield.
Mikel steadied him again, intercepting when pride nearly drove him into folly.
Celina disarmed her partner, her curse flaring faintly. She forced it silent, jaw tight.
Ernest's blade cut clean, precise, his silence heavier than the clash of wood.
At the yard's edge, the priests watched. Not whispering. Not smiling. Only waiting.
That evening, the dining hall was louder than ever. Nobles clustered in corners, scheming. Some heirs whispered of alliance.
"If we stand with Aldery, no one can touch us.""He is dangerous. He will drag us all down.""But if he cannot be broken…"
Others muttered of isolation, of cutting him away before the priests' hunger swallowed more than just one team.
Rowan stiffened under the stares. Mikel ate calmly, unbothered. Celina ignored them all, though once her emerald eyes flicked toward Ernest, sharp as glass.
Ernest ate in silence. He let the whispers flow. He remembered every voice.
Instructors muttered too, though not where the priests could hear.
Serren slammed his staff down in the yard after drills. "They are children," he growled to Halvern later. "Not sacrifices. The priests push too far."
Halvern adjusted his spectacles, voice tight. "We cannot oppose them. Not openly. But… the boy frightens them. That may be power enough."
In lecture room five, the lamp burned steady. Team Two gathered as always.
Rowan's voice shook with frustration. "They look at us as if we're monsters. I can hear it in every word. They'll never see us as nobles. Just… something else."
"Good," Ernest said calmly.
Rowan blinked. "Good?!"
"Fear binds tighter than respect."
Mikel nodded slowly. "Fear endures where loyalty fails."
Rowan's jaw clenched. He hated it, but part of him believed it.
Celina leaned back, her emerald gaze sharp. "And what of us? We are feared now too. You command, but they see us bound to you. Do you mean to drag us into chains with you?"
Ernest's black eyes met hers. Calm. Merciless. "Everything bends. Even fear."
Her lips curved faintly. Not a smile. A recognition. A challenge.
The silence that followed was heavy, but not brittle. It was the weight of a bond sharper than words.
That night, Ernest wrote in his notebook.
Fallout sharp. Students whisper louder. Nobles scheme. Some reach toward me, others pull away.
Rowan's pride hardening. Stares cut him, but he does not bend as before.
Mikel unchanged. Anchor constant.
Celina sharper. Recognition deepens. Bond grows dangerous.
Instructors whisper. Priests silent. Their silence heavier than words.
He closed the book, stood at the window. The courtyard lay silver, the chalk circle faint. Across the green, Celina's candle burned steady, Rowan's lamp glowed faint, Mikel's light constant.
His reflection stared back—pale, calm, merciless.
"The forest bent. The nobles bowed. The beast knelt. The chain obeyed. The bound fell. The mirrors cracked. Now the Academy breaks on whispers."
His lips curved, thin, sharp.
"Let them. I am the Voice that commands—even in silence."