The bells of the Ember Hall had not rung since the storm.
They tolled now, not for triumph, but for shame.
Neel walked with shackled wrists down the Academy's main stair, every step echoing through stone that still bore cracks from his last eruption. The storm simmered in his chest, faint sparks dancing across his skin no matter how tightly he clenched his fists. Students lined the courtyard as if watching an execution. Some whispered prayers. Others spat on the ground as he passed.
The Vessel. The Serpent's Boy. The Monster.
Neel kept his eyes down.
Keshav Rao led the procession, staff burning like a drawn blade. His words to the crowd were cold and sharp: "By decree of the Council, Neel Sharma is to leave these walls. He is unfit to remain among us. His exile is his only mercy."
Murmurs rose. Some called it too cruel. Others called it too kind.
From the gallery above, Elder Meera stood silent. Her gaze met Neel's for a flicker of a heartbeat. There was no pity there, no fear — only the same quiet faith that had steadied him before. But faith was not enough to silence the serpent whispering in his mind.
"They chain you in shame. Break the chains. Burn their halls."
He bit down hard until his jaw ached. He would not give it the satisfaction.
–––
At the gates, two figures waited.
Leela stood with her pack already slung across her shoulders, braid loose, eyes red from weeping but jaw set with steel. When the guards moved to block her, she lifted her chin.
"Where he goes, I go," she said simply.
Rao's glare burned, but before he could answer, Shanaya stepped forward from the shadows of the gate. Her phoenix-flame cloak gleamed gold against the gray morning.
"And me," she said. Her voice was smooth, her smirk sharp, but her eyes — her eyes burned with something fiercer than mockery. "I won't let my rival vanish into exile. If the serpent is his shadow, then I will walk in it too."
The crowd gasped. Rao's fury was a storm of its own, but even he could not deny them. In the end, he spat his judgment like venom.
"Then you share his fate. Step outside these gates, and you will not be welcomed back."
Shanaya smirked wider, but her voice softened just enough for Neel to hear. "Good. The walls here are too small for me anyway."
–––
So they left.
The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of dust through forests still blackened from past battles. Above them, storm clouds gathered, as though the sky itself followed Neel.
For hours, no one spoke. Only the crunch of boots and the hiss of distant thunder filled the silence.
Finally, Leela broke it. "They're afraid," she murmured. "Not just of you. Of what you mean. Of what's inside you."
Neel's chest tightened. "Maybe they're right."
Her hand brushed his arm sharply. "No. Don't you dare believe that."
Shanaya's laugh cut through, low and amused. "Careful, Deshmukh. If you keep coddling him, he might forget the storm inside him is real. And when it bursts, no pretty words will stop it."
Leela bristled. "And what will? Your smug grin?"
"Maybe my fire," Shanaya shot back. "When he breaks, I'll be there to put him down."
The two locked eyes, sparks and waterlight clashing in the air between them.
Neel finally snapped, voice raw. "Enough. Both of you. If you hate me, fine. If you pity me, fine. But don't fight over me. I'm tired."
The storm inside him surged at the words, as if mocking his weariness.
–––
Unseen, far behind on the ridge, Aarav Menon watched.
His lips curled in a bitter smile. Exiled, chained, humiliated — and yet Neel still had Leela and Shanaya beside him. It burned worse than any fire.
He turned to the three allies who lingered in the shadows. "Let them walk. Let them believe they're free." His eyes gleamed with venom. "Soon, I'll show them what freedom costs."
–––
That night, they camped by the river. The firelight flickered across tired faces. Leela sat close, humming softly as she cleaned her staff. Shanaya perched on a stone, flames dancing lazily at her fingertips. Neel sat apart, staring at his reflection in the black water.
The serpent's whisper coiled louder now, fed by his isolation.
"Three chains remain. Already they weaken. Soon you will see what you truly are."
Neel's reflection flickered — for a heartbeat, the water showed golden serpent eyes staring back at him.
He jerked away, breath ragged.
Leela's voice broke the silence gently. "We'll keep walking. As long as it takes. Together."
Shanaya's smirk returned, sharp as a blade. "Until he falls. Then it's me and him. No one else."
Neel closed his eyes. Thunder cracked overhead.
The exile had begun.
And already, the storm followed.