The academy grounds were quiet that night. Lanterns flickered along the stone paths, but most students had gone to bed, their conversations still buzzing with what they had seen in the arena.
Elian lay restless in his dorm, the image of his half-formed wings replaying in his mind. Every word Daren had spat at him echoed like poison: abandoned, cursed, demon spawn.
Sleep was impossible. His chest felt heavy, the seal burning faintly as if reminding him he was different. Finally, unable to bear the silence, he slipped out of bed and wandered the corridors.
As he passed near the instructors' hall, faint voices reached his ears.
Curious—and nervous—he followed the sound. A large oak door stood slightly open, light spilling out. Inside, the teachers sat in a circle, faces grim.
He should have turned away. But something held him there. Quiet as shadow, he leaned closer.
Instructor Varik, the stern man with silver hair, spoke first. His voice was sharp, cutting the silence.
"You all saw it. The boy unleashed both angelic and demonic traits. Such a thing has not been seen for centuries. It cannot be ignored."
Another instructor, softer but worried, whispered, "But he is only a child. If we brand him dangerous now, he may never recover. His heart is pure—I have seen it."
Varik slammed his hand on the table. "Pure? Did you not feel that surge? If he had lost control, Daren would be ashes! The academy itself could have fallen!"
Murmurs rose.
Finally, Headmaster Orien, cloaked in deep blue robes, raised his hand for silence. His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.
"Elian is no ordinary student. The seal that binds him will not last forever. The Council of Light must be informed. They will decide his fate."
The room went still.
One instructor lowered his gaze. "And if the Council decides… he must be destroyed?"
Silence. No one answered.
Elian's blood ran cold. His hand shook against the doorframe, breath shallow. Destroyed?
He stumbled back, heart hammering, every sound suddenly too loud.
Kael's voice rang in his memory—"You're stronger than their fear."
Lyra's voice echoed too—"Don't let him win."
But those reassurances cracked beneath the weight of what he had just heard. The academy he thought might become his home… was now debating whether he even deserved to live.
He fled back into the shadows before they noticed him, his footsteps silent on the stone. By the time he returned to his room, his hands were trembling.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the moonlight on the floor.
If even the teachers fear me… if the Council comes… what then?
He gripped the glowing seal on his chest, his voice breaking.
"I don't want this power. I don't want to hurt anyone. But if the world already sees me as a monster… then what am I supposed to do?"
No answer came. Only the silence of the night and the weight of secrets pressing down harder than ever.
But somewhere, deep inside, another thought stirred—a dangerous, frightening whisper of resolve:
If they want to call me cursed… then maybe one day, I'll show them the truth of what I am.