The morning sun painted the academy towers gold, but Elian felt none of its warmth.
He sat quietly in the library, the Book of Balance spread open in front of him. His fingers traced the faded ink of the prophecy he had read the night before, the words that refused to leave his mind.
> "When Light and Darkness share one vessel, balance shall either save the world… or end it."
The words struck him harder with every glance. He had tried to sleep, but the moment his eyes closed, the memory of the Rift, the glow of his chest, and the whispers in his dreams pulled him awake again.
"Still at it, huh?"
Elian looked up to see Kael drop into the seat across from him, a tray of bread and fruit in his hands. "You've been in this library more than your own room. People are starting to think you're secretly a monk."
Elian forced a smile. "I just… can't get it out of my head."
Kael leaned back, chewing. "You mean that light thing you did. Yeah, hard to forget. Half the academy either wants to be your best friend or never come near you again."
Before Elian could reply, Lyra approached, her usual calmness shadowed by worry. She placed a book down gently. "He's right. The teachers are whispering. Some think you're blessed… others think you're cursed."
Elian's chest tightened. Blessed. Cursed. He didn't feel like either. He just wanted answers.
That night, when the academy had gone quiet, Elian wandered outside alone. The training grounds still bore scars from the Rift. He knelt, running a hand over the charred stone.
"Why me?" he whispered to the night. "Why do I have these powers? Who… who am I really?"
The seal on his chest pulsed faintly in response.
Then, for the briefest moment, he thought he heard a woman's voice. Gentle. Familiar.
> "My child…"
Elian's eyes widened, whipping around. The grounds were empty. No one stood there. And yet, the sound lingered in his chest like an echo from a dream.
As he turned to leave, a shadow detached itself from the edge of the courtyard wall.
"Elian," the voice was low, smooth, and deliberate.
His hand tightened on his practice staff. "Who's there?"
The figure stepped into the moonlight. It was Seraphiel—the golden-haired angel who had once warned him.
"You again…" Elian's jaw clenched. "You keep appearing, but never explaining anything. Who are you really?"
Seraphiel studied him with unreadable eyes. "You are not ready for the answers. The truth will destroy you before it saves you."
Anger sparked in Elian's chest. "Then why follow me? Why watch me? Everyone looks at me like I'm some kind of monster. If you know the truth, then tell me!"
Seraphiel's gaze softened for the briefest second. "The seal weakens. Soon, you will understand everything. Until then…"
Before Elian could move, the angel vanished into light, leaving him standing alone under the moon.
The next day, the academy buzzed. Rumors of the Rift hadn't died down—instead, they grew louder.
Some said Elian had angel's blood.
Some said he was a cursed child.
Others whispered he was something far worse.
And as he walked the halls, he felt it—the weight of their stares, the mistrust in their eyes.
Even among his new friends, doubt flickered. Kael still defended him fiercely, but Elian caught Lyra studying him when she thought he wasn't looking, as if she too feared what he might be.
That night, alone in his room, Elian stared at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, the seal on his chest shimmered, faint white and black wings flickering behind him like a ghost.
"Who… am I?" he whispered.
But the mirror gave him no answer.
And far above, in the heavens, Seraphiel's words from the council echoed:
> "The seal will not hold forever."