The day after the Rift incident, the academy no longer felt the same.
Everywhere Elian walked, whispers followed him. Some students looked at him with awe, grateful that he had saved lives. Others turned away quickly, murmuring behind their hands as though he carried a plague. Their eyes burned into his back no matter how fast he walked.
The faculty wasn't much better. Extra guards now patrolled the halls, their armor clinking in the silence. Professors spoke more cautiously, their eyes lingering on him too long before darting away. Even the air around the academy seemed heavier, as if the stones themselves remembered what had happened.
Elian clenched his fists. He wasn't used to standing out. He had grown up quietly, living a simple life in the noble house that raised him, never questioning who he was. But now, the whispers—the suspicion—made it impossible to forget what happened in the courtyard.
The seal.
The light.
The Rift closing at his command.
It had been real. And it terrified him.
By midday, Elian sat in the back row of History class, his chin resting in his hand. Professor Aldren's voice droned on about ancient wars, about treaties between kingdoms, about peace that was always fragile.
But Elian wasn't listening.
His mind drifted back to the library. The scroll. The words child of balance. And the way Aldren had looked at him afterward—not like a teacher speaking to a student, but like a man staring at a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.
"Elian?"
A sharp nudge broke his thoughts. Kael leaned over from the next desk, his grin crooked. "You're drifting again. You gonna survive today's class, or do I need to carry you out?"
Elian forced a small smile. "I'm fine."
Kael raised an eyebrow but let it go. Lyra, sitting on his other side, watched quietly. She didn't say anything, but Elian could feel her eyes—concerned, searching—as if she already knew he was lying.
When the lesson ended, Elian lingered. He wanted to ask Aldren more, but the professor left quickly, ignoring him completely. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, leaving Elian's chest tight with frustration.
That night, the academy's halls were silent. Moonlight streamed in through tall windows, silvering the marble floors. Most students were already asleep, but Elian couldn't rest.
He wandered aimlessly, his footsteps echoing softly against stone. His thoughts circled endlessly—his dream of the woman, the seal's glow, the cryptic words of the scroll.
Who was she? Why does she feel so familiar?
As he walked, the silence shifted. At first, it was subtle—the faint sound of another step following his own. Then it grew clearer. Footsteps. Slow. Measured.
Elian's heart thudded. He turned sharply, but the hallway behind him was empty. Shadows stretched long across the floor, but no one was there.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice unsteady.
No answer.
He exhaled shakily and turned back—only to freeze.
A figure stood at the far end of the hall. Cloaked in robes of gold and white, faint light seemed to shimmer around him. Though his face was hidden beneath a hood, Elian could feel the weight of his gaze pressing against him like a mountain.
Every instinct screamed at him. This was no ordinary man.
The figure's voice carried across the hall, calm but heavy with authority.
"So… you live."
Elian's throat tightened. His feet wanted to move, to run, but his body wouldn't obey. "Who… who are you?"
The man did not move closer. He stood still, almost statuesque, his presence filling the corridor with an unnatural hush. "You should not exist. And yet, here you stand. The seal still holds, but not for long."
The words stabbed straight into Elian's chest. He clutched his shirt, feeling the faint warmth of the mark beneath. The seal pulsed once—like it was answering the stranger.
"What do you mean?" Elian asked, his voice trembling. "What do you know about me?"
The cloaked figure tilted his head slightly, as though studying him. "When the seal breaks… the war will begin anew."
Before Elian could demand more, the man's body dissolved into light. A thousand shining feathers drifted through the air for an instant, then vanished into nothing.
Elian was left alone, his chest pounding, the echo of the words ringing in his skull.
A war? Because of me?
A Familiar Voice
"Elian?"
The sudden voice made him jump.
He turned and saw Lyra standing at the end of the hall, holding a lantern. Her violet eyes were wide with concern. "What are you doing here? You look pale…"
Elian quickly forced himself to breathe evenly. He shook his head and managed a weak smile. "It's… nothing. Just couldn't sleep."
Lyra frowned, clearly unconvinced. But she didn't push. Instead, she fell into step beside him as they walked back toward the dorms.
As she turned away, her lantern light flickering across the walls, she glanced back at the empty hallway. For just a moment, she thought she heard it too—the faint, distant rustle of wings.