CHAPTER 56 – THE SILENT RIFT
As Seryn walked toward the end of the corridor, some students' eyes drifted toward him—but in those looks there was no extraordinary fear, only curiosity and unease. The rhythm of the grey flow was invisible to them. What they felt was merely the lingering aftershock of last night's overwhelming pressure, the rumors born from a member of House Daskal descending upon the Academy, and the natural discomfort caused by Seryn suddenly becoming the center of attention.
When he passed through the courtyard and entered the shaded western corridor, sunlight spilled through the walls in broken lines across the stone floor. Most students had gone to class or dispersed already. At this hour, the halls were relatively quiet.
Exactly the kind of quiet Seryn wanted.
Aleric's words—"We need to talk tonight."—echoed in his mind.
It felt as though the ritual had only been the prelude. The real test was just beginning.
He took a step.
Then another.
And on the third step, the grey flow stirred in his chest.
Like a warning.
Seryn stopped.
Someone was in the shaded part of the courtyard, leaning against the wall in a place difficult for others to notice.
Aleric.
But this time, Aleric wasn't carrying the tension of a student waiting for something. He carried the weight of a true heir of House Daskal. He still wore the same dark navy Daskal-style jacket, but the expression on his face… was different. More serious, more calculating.
When Seryn approached, Aleric didn't move. He merely raised his head.
"You're late," he said.
Seryn frowned slightly. "I'm not. The time I gave you hasn't come yet."
Aleric tilted his head. "For me, it has."
There was something in that tone. As if the part of Aleric who had spoken earlier—the sentimental cousin—had stepped back, and now the shadow of the family had taken full control. It unsettled Seryn, though he did not show it.
Aleric stepped forward. His steps were quiet, but his aura spread faintly around him. The aura of someone approaching the threshold of S-rank—controlled with restraint, yet able to sharpen instantly.
Ordinary students wouldn't perceive this shift.
To them, this would simply feel like "someone from House Daskal is approaching."
But Seryn felt it clearly.
"You used the stone," Aleric said, his tone probing.
Seryn exhaled. "I did."
Aleric's eyes immediately drifted to Seryn's chest, to where the crack lay. He couldn't see it, couldn't touch it… but there was a third sense at work: instinct. A sense born of bloodline.
"Its rhythm has changed," Aleric said. "You know that."
"Yes."
Aleric was silent for a moment. Then he asked quietly:
"Did it speak?"
Seryn's eyes narrowed instinctively.
"How do you know?"
Aleric lowered his head slightly. "Because those crystals react in only two cases." He raised two fingers.
"Either when measuring the soul… or recognizing it."
"Recognizing?"
"Yes. And for recognition, it must speak."
A cold shiver ran along Seryn's spine. It wasn't surprising Aleric knew this much, yet it still unsettled him.
"What did it say?" Aleric asked.
Seryn hesitated.
The whisper of the crystal was still perfectly clear in his mind: Not yet…
But telling Aleric everything…
Was that right? Something inside him urged silence. Some knowledge was too personal. Too intimate. Too potentially dangerous.
Aleric waited.
Seryn took a steady breath.
"It asked questions," Seryn said. "It tried to understand what I am."
Aleric nodded.
He seemed to sense the omission, but did not push further.
"And you," Aleric said, "do you remember what you told it?"
"My power belongs to me," Seryn said. "I am not half of anything."
Aleric reached into his coat and took out a thin parchment—old, dark, edges burnt. Clearly from the depths of the family archives.
"There's something I will show you," he said. "But before that, you must know… I'm not supposed to tell you any of this."
Seryn's gaze fixed on the parchment.
"You're saying this is… a family secret?"
"Beyond family," Aleric said. "House Daskal has protected something for generations. Only the Emperor and the High Bishop know of it. And my grandfather, fighting in the North, carries the last part of this secret.
But now… you must know it too."
Before unfolding the parchment, Aleric continued with a grave tone:
"Seryn, the crack inside you isn't just damage or corruption. That thing… is an echo."
Seryn's breath stopped.
"An echo of what?"
"An echo born from a power," Aleric said. "Our house… once recorded the first traces of the grey flow."
Seryn's heart jolted.
"The grey flow?" he repeated. "There were no records."
Aleric smiled—cold, tired.
"Because we hid them."
He unfolded the parchment.
Inside was a single symbol: a broken line. Neither straight nor curved—more like a path split down the middle. Around it spiraled ancient ritual markings in grey ink.
"This," Aleric said, "is one of the first traces of the grey flow. In ancient times they called it The Rift Line. House Daskal protected the carriers of this line. But we also watched them."
Seryn's throat tightened.
The grey flow inside him hung suspended.
"Am I… a carrier?" he asked.
Aleric shook his head.
"No. Not exactly. Carriers are born with it. Your crack…" His eyes locked onto Seryn's chest. "It opened later. Through calamity."
Seryn's mind blurred. He had no missing memories—but sometimes the grey flow whispered with pieces of the past. Painful pieces. Broken-path pieces.
Aleric continued:
"When my grandfather touched you that night… the thing inside you fell silent, didn't it?"
Seryn lifted his head. "Yes."
"Do you know why?"
Seryn shook his head.
Aleric stepped closer and whispered:
"Because Aurellius Daskal was once one of the grey flow's carriers."
The world went still.
Seryn couldn't speak. Logic refused it, yet the grey flow swelled inside him—almost as if confirming it.
Aleric's eyes narrowed.
"That's why," he said, "the crack in you fell silent when he touched you. He recognized the old echo inside you."
Seryn stepped back, his boots scraping against the stone.
"Why tell me now?"
Aleric closed the parchment.
"Because the crystal's response means you're ready."
A pressure filled Seryn's lungs. The grey flow stirred again.
It was as if the whisper "Not yet…" tried to return.
Aleric delivered the final piece with a tone so heavy even the mana in the air seemed to contract:
"Seryn, the crack inside you is no accident. It means an unfinished power has found you."
Seryn's eyes widened.
"Chosen? You mean… I was chosen?"
Aleric bowed his head.
"Yes. But this choosing… is not a blessing."
A single question escaped Seryn's throat:
"Then what is it?"
Aleric's gaze hardened.
His next words cut the hall like a blade:
"This is a warning."
The moment the word fell, the mana currents of the corridor froze, then resumed. The word "warning" merged with the vibration of the grey flow, echoing darkly in Seryn's chest.
Seryn forced his breath steady.
"A warning… of what?"
Aleric pocketed the parchment. His movements were slow, heavy.
"The grey flow does not always choose. It does not pick individuals. It simply finds them. It feels the fracture inside them and settles there.
But your case… is different."
Seryn frowned. "How?"
Aleric hesitated—a rare sight.
For the first time, he seemed unsure.
"Because your crack," he said softly, "isn't really a crack."
Seryn's heart dropped.
Aleric finished:
"It is the echo of an ancient call."
Seryn lifted his head. "A call?"
Aleric nodded.
"Yes. And that call… comes from the same origin as what my grandfather carried."
None of this appeared in any Academy records. Gri flow wasn't even named publicly.
"Why didn't Aurellius explain it?" Seryn asked.
There was a sharpness in his voice—an anger born from fear.
Aleric swallowed.
"Because my grandfather rejected that destiny. He resisted the path of the grey carriers.
Why do you think he held the northern front alone?
His power was tied to that echo. And he hid it from the Empire."
Seryn clenched his fists.
"So everything about me… was a secret?"
Aleric scanned the area. The students were distant; no one would hear. Still, he lowered his voice.
"This secret wasn't just hidden from you—it was hidden from the entire Empire.
Because the true nature of the grey flow… is dangerous enough to start a war."
Seryn narrowed his eyes.
"But inside me, it feels like nothing but unstable power. Dangerous, yes, but—"
"No," Aleric cut him off. "It is not just power. It is a direction."
"A… direction?"
Aleric nodded slowly.
"The grey flow moves. It is not a straight line. It is a broken path. A rift.
And you carry that path in your chest."
Seryn felt the blood leave his face.
"…I'm carrying a path?"
Aleric continued:
"Yes. And most carriers died before reaching its end."
The words sliced through Seryn like ice.
"And my grandfather? How did he survive?"
Aleric's expression darkened.
"Because he silenced the grey flow's voice."
There was death hidden inside that sentence.
Seryn's hand rose to his chest instinctively.
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"You won't," Aleric said. "Your call is not the same as his. His belonged to the past. Yours… belongs to the future."
The grey flow surged violently.
It clearly disliked this conversation.
Aleric noticed.
"Stay calm," he said. "This isn't your fault."
"But it's inside me."
Aleric inhaled deeply.
"Which is why I came. Caerus wants to control you. The Temple wants to study you. The Empire sees you as a weapon.
But I… I want you to understand what you are."
Seryn's shoulders loosened.
"Aleric… I don't know what I am."
"You don't need to know. Not yet. But you must understand one thing."
Aleric's eyes locked onto his.
"The crack in you is not just power. It is a call. If you answer it, you will be shaped by it.
If you refuse… you will break."
Seryn's breath hitched.
"And what am I doing now?"
Aleric didn't answer for a long time.
Then he whispered:
"You haven't chosen yet."
The words stabbed deeply.
The grey flow's rhythm slowed—heavier, deeper, more cautious.
Aleric went on:
"No matter what the crystal showed you, that was merely the first step.
The real test is tomorrow.
The Fourth Knot isn't just mana harmony.
Your spiritual layers will be opened.
What's inside you… cannot be hidden."
Seryn's chest tightened.
"So… everyone will see it?"
"No," Aleric said. "Only the instructors. But that's enough."
Seryn's thoughts raced.
"So… what do I do?"
"Either hide the rhythm of your crack—or accept it."
"How do I hide it?"
Aleric lifted his shoulders.
"The way my grandfather did—by strengthening his very soul.
But you cannot achieve that overnight."
Seryn felt a cold pit form in his stomach. "So I must accept it?"
Aleric's gaze darkened.
"Acceptance may empower you… but it may also turn you into something else."
"What… else?"
Aleric looked away.
"I don't know."
Aleric didn't know.
That scared Seryn more than anything.
"And what about the crystal's words? 'Not yet…'"
Aleric froze.
"…It said that?"
"What do you think it means?"
Aleric said nothing for a long time.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Seryn… that's bad."
Seryn's heart sank.
"Why? Maybe it just means I'm not ready."
Aleric shook his head. "No. The language of the grey flow is simple. 'Not yet' means something must be completed.
And that something is usually…"
The sentence stopped midway.
Seryn tensed. "Say it!"
Aleric exhaled shakily.
"…usually the transformation."
Seryn froze.
"Transformation?"
"Yes," Aleric whispered. "The grey flow has not fully merged with you. It measured you. Touched your soul. Saw the inside of your crack.
But it has not chosen you—yet."
Seryn's skin went cold.
"So it might choose me?"
Aleric's voice darkened again.
"Yes. And that… is not good."
Seryn's thoughts fractured.
"What if I have no choice?"
Aleric's jaw clenched. He hated that question.
"Seryn… don't think that way."
"What if there is no escape?"
Aleric snapped—his fear finally breaking through:
"We don't know what you are! You're not a carrier! Your crack is unknown!
We don't know why the grey flow touched you!
Nothing is certain!"
Seryn stepped back.
The shout wasn't like Aleric.
It belonged to someone carrying a deep, obsessive fear.
Aleric realized this and calmed himself.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But you must understand. This thing isn't just power.
It can change you.
If it chooses you… you may no longer be yourself."
Seryn's hands trembled.
"I… I won't disappear."
Aleric murmured:
"No one believes they will disappear… until they do."
The grey flow rippled in his chest—as if displeased by the conversation.
Aleric spoke one last time:
"Tonight, after this ritual, do not stay alone.
Do not let the crack push you.
We will talk again in the morning.
For now…"
He stepped back.
"…rest."
Seryn couldn't even nod.
Aleric turned, walked toward the shadows, and vanished.
Only the monotone, threatening rhythm of the grey flow remained.
Seryn pressed his palm to his chest.
The crack was still there.
But it was no longer the same.
Its rhythm was calm—but deep.
Something was knocking.
From within.
Quietly.
Unhurried.
Patient.
And as Seryn swallowed the tightness in his throat, he heard only one word:
Not yet…
But this time… he understood it.
It wasn't a warning.
It was a countdown.