The wind howled through the Academy's upper spires like a living thing, dragging mist across the stone like silk. Kael stood at the edge of the western battlements, arms folded, cloak pulled tight against the cold. Down below, the lake shimmered with star reflections, too still for comfort. Even the water here felt watched.
It had been three days since the Rune Gate test. Three days since that mark burned its way into his hand. It hadn't faded. In fact, it had deepened—now almost black at the edges, with silver threads like veins of lightning.
He hadn't told anyone. Not even Lira.
She hadn't pressed him again after the library, and he was grateful for that. Instead, they had fallen into a rhythm—awkward but manageable. She seemed to know when to leave him alone and when to sit beside him in silence. It was more comfort than he'd had in years.
Kael's lessons had begun in earnest: spell structure, elemental theory, the binding arts. He failed half his glyph draws. His incantations cracked like broken glass. Every time he tried to channel magic, something resisted—as if the world itself didn't know what to make of him.
And yet... when no one was looking... things happened.
Doors opened before he touched them.
Flames bent toward his presence.
Stone shifted beneath his feet like it remembered him.
He hadn't dared speak of it.
Not even when the dreams began.
In his sleep, Kael stood beneath a sky of burning stars. The world was shattered—floating islands of black rock drifting through an endless void. And in the center of it all stood a Gate.
The same as the one in the library.
Wrought from obsidian and bone, it pulsed with a heartbeat not his own. Each night, he dreamed of stepping toward it. Each night, a voice called out—a voice ancient and hollow and vast as the sky:
"Gateborn. Do you remember what was lost?"
He always woke up sweating.
On the fourth night, Master Aridan summoned him.
Kael hadn't spoken to the Head Enchanter since the day of the test. Now, he stood in a circular chamber high in the upper towers, filled with starlight and floating maps of leyline networks. Aridan didn't look up as Kael entered—he simply gestured to a seat.
Kael sat.
"Do you know what your rune means?" Aridan asked at last, eyes scanning a hovering tome.
Kael hesitated. "No."
"Neither do I," Aridan said. "And that bothers me."
He closed the book with a snap and finally turned to face Kael.
"There are seven known Gate sigils. Yours is not among them."
Kael blinked. "But you said—"
"I said you were Gateborn. I did not say you were ours."
Aridan folded his hands. "There are gates we do not speak of. Old things, locked for a reason. Power that predates even the Flame Pact. If your mark is tied to one of them... you may not be a gift to this world, Kael. You may be its reckoning."
Kael swallowed. "What happens now?"
"You learn control. You stay quiet. And you tell no one of the dreams."
Kael's eyes widened.
Aridan nodded. "The gates whisper to those they've chosen. You're not the first. But you may be the last."
Later that night, Kael returned to his dorm to find Lira waiting in the hallway.
She didn't say anything. Just handed him a small cloth-wrapped bundle.
"What's this?"
"Stabilization ring," she said. "I made it. It channels overflows and dampens magical surges. You're leaking aura like a sieve. It's annoying."
He stared at her.
"You're welcome," she added, rolling her eyes.
Kael took it, surprised. The metal was warm to the touch, etched with careful runes. He slipped it onto his finger.
The air around him shifted. Quieted.
Lira gave a short nod. "Better. Now try not to explode. I'd rather not die this semester."
He cracked the faintest smile. "Noted."
She lingered a moment longer than she had to.
Then she left.
That night, the dream changed.
This time, the Gate was open.
And something was coming through.
To be Continued