CHAPTER 55 — Lockdown Rules
The Academy did not announce the lockdown.
It didn't need to.
By dawn, everyone felt it.
The wards hummed differently—not louder, not brighter, just… closer. Like walls leaning inward a fraction. Lanterns burned steadier. Corridor runes refreshed more often. Even the air carried a subtle resistance, as if movement itself required permission.
Aiden noticed it the moment he stepped out of the dorm.
His storm noticed it sooner.
It pressed against his ribs with a restless irritation, testing the invisible limits the way lightning tested clouds. The pup padded at his heel, ears twitching, fur snapping faint static that fizzled before it could spread.
"Yeah," Aiden murmured. "I feel it too."
Stormthread gathered at the stair landing without needing to be told.
Runa arrived first, already armored, hammer strapped across her back instead of carried—an unmistakable signal that rules had changed. Nellie followed, satchel tight against her side, eyes scanning the walls as if she expected the stone itself to flinch. Myra came last, yawning aggressively and pretending the tension didn't exist.
"Good morning," Myra announced. "I rate today a solid three out of ten so far."
Runa glanced at the corridor. "You are awake."
"Barely," Myra replied. "But my survival instincts were yelling."
Nellie swallowed. "They're watching."
Aiden nodded. "Yeah."
They moved together down the hall, boots echoing softly. Other students emerged from dorms in uneasy clusters, conversations hushed, glances sharp. When eyes landed on Stormthread, they didn't linger—but they didn't look away fast either.
Fear had learned a new shape.
By the time they reached the central concourse, the notice boards were already surrounded.
Not crowded.
Circled.
A single sheet had been pinned beneath the general announcements, its ink still dark and fresh.
ACADEMY NOTICE
TEMPORARY WARD PROTOCOLS — EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY
• No unscheduled movement between inner and outer rings
• No solo travel after Third Bell
• All Stormbound Provisional members restricted to escorted transit
• Unauthorized construct work suspended
• Violations subject to immediate sanction
A second page followed, written in a firmer hand.
STORMTHREAD COHORT
You will report to the Verdant Hall at Second Bell for revised operational briefing.
You will not engage anomalies without authorization unless life is at risk.
You will not test the wards.
The wards are testing you.
Myra stared at the last line. "I hate it when institutions get poetic."
Nellie read it twice. Then a third time. "They're scared."
"Correct," Runa said.
Aiden felt the weight of it settle between his shoulders. "They're not just scared of what happened."
Myra glanced sideways at him. "They're scared of what didn't."
Exactly.
The construct hadn't torn the ward open.
It hadn't bled power everywhere.
It had almost succeeded.
That was worse.
They turned away from the board together, instinctively closing ranks as a pair of third-years whispered too loudly behind them.
"—heard it was Stormbound again—"
"—Headmistress wouldn't lock down the inner ring for nothing—"
"—that cub isn't natural—"
Myra stopped walking.
Runa's hand tightened on her strap.
Aiden felt his storm lift, sharp and defensive.
Nellie spoke first.
"Keep moving," she said quietly. "Please."
Myra exhaled through her nose and did, boots striking stone harder than necessary.
Breakfast was subdued.
Stormthread claimed their usual corner table, but the space around them felt wider than it should have—empty benches left conspicuously unused. Food tasted like obligation more than comfort.
The pup tried to steal Myra's bread.
She let it.
Aiden barely noticed what he was eating.
His attention kept snagging on the ward-hum under everything. It wasn't pressing anymore. It was listening.
Second Bell rang—real bell this time, bronze and clear.
Verdant Hall awaited.
---
The Hall felt different in daylight.
Not calmer.
More awake.
Runes glowed brighter along the floor seams, responding subtly as Stormthread entered, like roots recognizing familiar pressure. Elowen stood near the center with Veldt and Kethel Auris flanking her—authority layered over authority.
Other faculty lined the walls.
Watching.
Elowen didn't waste words.
"Last night was not an isolated incident," she said. "Nor was it a misunderstanding."
Murmurs rippled.
She lifted one hand.
Silence returned.
"A student exploited partial ward knowledge and unauthorized construct principles to test a hypothesis," Elowen continued. "That hypothesis was whether Stormthread represented a structural risk to the Academy."
Aiden felt the eyes shift to him.
To them.
Elowen's gaze did not.
"The answer," she said evenly, "is that fear does more damage to wards than storms ever have."
Kethel stepped forward, staff tapping once.
"We have reviewed the ward logs," they said. "The breach was narrow, precise, and guided. This was not curiosity. It was rehearsal."
That word landed hard.
Nellie's breath caught.
"Rehearsal for what?" Myra asked, unable to stop herself.
Kethel's pale eyes flicked to her. "For a future where someone believes they can decide who belongs behind the wards."
Runa's jaw set.
Elowen continued. "Until we identify how much information has leaked—and to whom—Stormthread will operate under tightened protocols."
She gestured, and a new slate lit behind her.
STORMTHREAD — TEMPORARY OPERATIONAL RULES
• No separation beyond line-of-sight
• All field movement logged
• One faculty escort minimum beyond inner ring
• No unsupervised storm discharge
• Immediate reporting of anomalous resonance
Myra squinted. "That's… basically house arrest with homework."
"Correct," Elowen said.
Nellie raised a hand, hesitant but brave. "Elowen—Headmistress—what about the wards themselves? They… changed. After the breach."
Kethel nodded. "They adapted."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
"Wards are not passive," Kethel continued. "They learn from pressure. Last night, they learned distrust."
Aiden felt that truth settle deep.
"They will now respond faster," Kethel said, "and less gently."
Elowen's gaze softened slightly as it returned to Stormthread. "This is not punishment. This is containment—for everyone."
Veldt crossed his arms. "You will continue training. But cohesion is no longer optional. If you fracture, the Academy fractures with you."
Myra muttered, "No pressure."
Runa elbowed her.
The briefing ended without ceremony.
Stormthread was dismissed.
They exited the Hall into a corridor buzzing with contained tension.
Students pretended not to stare.
Pretended badly.
They didn't make it ten steps before Nellie faltered.
Runa caught her instantly.
"Nellie," Aiden said, turning. "Hey—what's wrong?"
Her fingers were clenched in her sleeve, knuckles white. "The threads," she whispered. "They're… tighter. Not painful. Just… less forgiving."
Myra frowned. "Is that bad?"
"It means mistakes will cost more," Nellie said. "For everyone."
Aiden nodded once. "Then we don't make them."
She looked up at him, eyes shining with something like fear and trust braided together. "That's… a lot to ask."
Runa's voice was steady. "We can carry it."
Nellie leaned into her without thinking.
Runa adjusted her stance like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They headed back toward the dorms under escort—two wardens this time, silent and watchful.
Inside, the common room felt smaller.
Quieter.
Myra dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I don't like being the problem everyone whispers about."
Aiden sat opposite her, the pup hopping up beside him. "You're not."
She snorted. "Doesn't matter."
Nellie sank onto the floor with her back against Runa's leg, exhaustion finally cracking through her composure. "They're afraid we'll pull something apart just by existing."
Runa looked down at her. "Fear does not get to define your function."
Myra tilted her head. "You should put that on a banner."
Runa ignored her.
Aiden watched the light shift across the walls.
"Last night wasn't about me," he said slowly. "Not really."
Myra rolled onto her side to look at him. "Explain."
"The construct didn't target me," he continued. "It targeted the anchor. The ward itself. Someone wanted to prove the system could be nudged."
Nellie stiffened. "Which means—"
"They're not done," Aiden finished.
Silence followed.
The pup whined softly.
Myra broke it with a humorless laugh. "Great. So we're famous, restricted, and someone's running drills against our house."
Runa rested a hand on her hammer. "Then we train harder."
Nellie nodded faintly. "And we listen."
Aiden closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the ward-hum through the floor, through the walls, through his bones.
Not hostile.
Wary.
"Stormthread," he said quietly.
They all looked at him.
"We don't give them a crack," he continued. "Not fear. Not anger. Not ego. We stay boring. Stable. Predictable."
Myra raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to be boring."
"I'm asking you to be alive," he replied.
She considered it. Then sighed. "Fine. Temporarily."
Runa grunted approval.
Nellie smiled weakly.
Outside the window, clouds drifted over the Academy—slow, watchful, undecided.
And beneath stone and rune, the wards adjusted their grip on the world.
Not closing.
Not opening.
Waiting.