Chapter 15 – The Weight of Shadows
The days after the chamber incident blurred together, but not because they were ordinary. Nothing about life at the academy was ordinary anymore.
Karl couldn't walk down a corridor without whispers following him. Students parted when he passed, as though afraid to brush against his sleeve. Some stared with awe, others with suspicion, and a few with outright hatred. Rumors multiplied faster than wildfire.
They called him fracture. They called him cursed.
Karl ignored them all. Or tried to.
But ignoring whispers didn't quiet the ones inside.
---
On the third night, Headmaster Orwen summoned him.
The old man waited in the tower chamber, his silver robes glimmering faintly in the lantern light. The wide windows were open, and the cold wind carried the smell of rain.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Orwen asked without preamble. "The creature's power. The shadow's hunger."
Karl's jaw tightened. "I fought it. I stopped it."
"For a moment," Orwen said, stepping closer. "But it left something inside you. I can see it even now—coiling, pressing against your strength. It will not be content to slumber."
Karl's fists clenched. "Then tell me how to rip it out."
Orwen's gaze sharpened. "You cannot. What enters the fracture remains until the fracture closes—or consumes. But you can resist. You can fight. That is why you are here."
The headmaster placed a hand on Karl's shoulder, and for a moment, the whispers quieted.
"Starting tomorrow, you will begin training unlike anything you've faced. Physical, mental, magical. Not to wield the shadow—but to withstand it. If you fail, it will break you."
Karl's voice was steady, though his chest felt heavy. "Then I won't fail."
---
The next morning, the training began.
They met in a hidden courtyard far from the main academy grounds, a circle of cracked stone ringed by old statues. Only Orwen, Lira, and Jax were present.
Karl stripped off his cloak, standing bare-armed in the cold air. His muscles gleamed with sweat even before they began.
Orwen nodded. "First, endurance. The shadow whispers when your strength falters. We will push until you hear it—and then we will force you past it."
Lira raised her staff, weaving wards of light. Jax muttered a spell that bent gravity itself. Karl suddenly felt twice as heavy, his own body a mountain on his bones.
"Move," Orwen commanded.
Karl dropped into push-ups. At first, it was manageable. His arms strained but held. But the weight dragged harder, and every breath burned. By the hundredth rep, sweat poured into his eyes.
That was when the whisper returned.
Stop resisting.
His arms shook. His elbows buckled.
I can give you strength beyond this. You only need to let me in.
"No," Karl hissed through his teeth. He pushed again, veins burning, chest roaring with fire.
Fool. You fight me, but you fight yourself.
He slammed his fists into the ground, breaking the stone beneath him, and forced himself higher.
Orwen's voice cut through: "Good. Remember this moment. You are strongest when you deny it."
But Karl knew it was only the beginning.
---
For days, the training continued. Strength trials, meditation under crushing wards, duels against illusory monsters that mirrored the shadow's power.
At night, Karl barely slept. When he closed his eyes, he saw the mural—the shadow king, the chains, his own likeness bound to them.
Jax tried to lighten the tension. "At this rate, you'll be able to punch the moon in half."
Karl managed a small smirk. "Maybe I'll start with your ego."
But Lira wasn't laughing. She watched Karl with worried eyes, always too quick to notice when his fists trembled longer than they should, or when he stared too long into the dark.
"Karl," she whispered one evening as they walked back to the dorms. "You don't have to carry this alone. You can tell us what it feels like. What it says to you."
Karl shook his head. "If I say it out loud, it wins. Better you don't hear it."
"But we already see it," she said softly. "Every time you fight."
For a moment, he wanted to tell her. Everything. But the words stuck, heavy as chains.
---
On the sixth night, the attack came.
Karl woke to the sound of glass breaking. He sat up sharply, the dorm bathed in moonlight. Jax snored on, oblivious. Lira stirred in the next bed, frowning.
Then the window burst inward.
A figure cloaked in shadow rolled into the room, blades drawn. Two more followed, masks covering their faces. They weren't students. They weren't professors.
They moved like hunters.
"Karl Draven," the first whispered. "The fracture belongs to our master."
Jax jolted awake, rolling off the bed with a curse. Lira raised her staff, light flaring across the room.
Karl stood, bare-chested, fists already clenched. The whispers surged in his skull, eager, hungry.
Yes. Break them. Bleed them.
He forced the voice down and stepped forward. "If your master wants me…" His fist cracked as he tightened it. "…then he'll have to try harder."