The Outer Academy's training hall was carved into the cliffside, suspended like a blade over the ocean below. At its center stretched a polished obsidian dueling platform etched with glowing sigils, pulsing like a heartbeat in the dim light. Magic shimmered in the air, tingling over Kaelen's skin as he stepped onto the stone.
His boots clicked softly, betraying the nerves curling low in his stomach.
He didn't belong here.
Not among these robed prodigies with bloodlines forged in war and legacy. Not among the sons and daughters of the Tower, who wore their crests like thrones on their chests.
But Selene had insisted.
"You need to test yourself," she had said earlier, her tone leaving no room for refusal. "You've been hiding. From them. From yourself. Time to stop."
And then, as if sensing his doubt: "If your magic responds to threat, let it feel one."
Now, the crowd above jeered and murmured as the next duel was announced.
"Ren Taleth of no Faction… against Lorien Valcairn, Flameborn captain."
Kaelen flinched at the name.
Of course.
Lorien stepped forward with the confidence of a lion entering his den. His golden Flameborn scarf flared in the wind, and that infernal smirk curled across his face.
"Didn't think they let peasants duel," Lorien drawled.
Kaelen's jaw clenched. He said nothing, fingers twitching at his side, the ghost of an old sigil still etched into his palm.
Lorien's gaze flicked to it. "That mark's not sanctioned. Not Tower-trained. What are you, a hedgeborn glyph-runner?"
"Are you going to talk me to death?" Kaelen said flatly. "Or actually cast something?"
Gasps rippled through the spectators. Even Selene raised an eyebrow.
Lorien's smile turned sharp. "You'll regret that."
From the observation gallery, Archivist Vale raised a hand. "Begin!"
Lorien moved first—predictable and fast.
A blaze ignited from his palm, arcing like a ribbon of flame toward Kaelen's chest. The heat was instant, ferocious.
Kaelen didn't think.
He moved purely on instinct, thrusting his hand forward—and his magic flared to life.
Not like a practiced spell. Not like a prepared glyph.
It surged out of him like breath, like blood.
A translucent barrier snapped into existence between him and the flame—glass-like, humming with strange symbols that flickered with the same silver-blue light that had haunted his dreams. Lorien's spell struck it—and shattered against it like a wave on stone.
The crowd gasped.
So did Kaelen.
The shield dissolved after impact, leaving only smoke and silence.
Lorien's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something."
Kaelen said nothing, pulse thudding in his ears.
He didn't know how he'd done that. But it hadn't been luck.
The fire hadn't just stopped—it had been unraveled.
Lorien launched again—this time with twin streaks of condensed heat, spinning in opposite directions. Kaelen barely managed to dodge the first; the second grazed his shoulder, the sleeve of his robe singing at the edges.
He grimaced, stumbling back, when his wrist burned again.
The sigil flared—searing light and ancient script pouring up his arm like a brand reborn.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He let it move.
The glyphs shifted mid-air, coalescing into a pulse of force that blasted Lorien off his feet.
The Flameborn landed hard, skidding across the obsidian floor. A hush fell over the chamber.
Even Selene leaned forward slightly, tension winding tight in her stance.
Kaelen stared at his own hand, heart thundering.
He hadn't cast a spell.
He had released one.
Lorien groaned, then snarled. "That's not Tower magic. That's forbidden."
He surged up again, fire coiling into a lance at his side. Too much power. Too fast.
Kaelen braced himself—but the blow never came.
A crack of violet light split the air as a shadow appeared between them.
Selene.
One hand outstretched, the other tucked behind her back.
She'd intercepted the attack—shielding Kaelen with her own magic, a midnight sigil flaring in the air between them.
Archivist Vale's voice thundered across the hall.
"Interference! Duel is invalidated!"
Chaos erupted in the viewing gallery. Students murmured, some jeering, some staring at Kaelen with new interest. Lorien looked moments from murder.
But he didn't strike again.
He turned, spat on the ground near Kaelen's boots, and stormed off.
Kaelen stood in the silence that followed, chest heaving.
Then he looked at Selene.
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes," she cut him off. "I did."
The courtyard was quiet by dusk. Only the distant hum of wards and the sea wind brushing through the ivy-laced stone remained.
Kaelen sat on a crumbling bench by the training grounds, arms folded, the sleeve of his robe scorched and tattered.
Selene sat beside him, her expression unreadable.
"You were reckless," she said after a while.
"I didn't plan to win."
"You didn't win."
He sighed. "Fine. I didn't plan to explode, either."
Silence stretched between them.
"Your magic," she said finally. "It didn't just react. It changed shape. That glyph... it wasn't just defense."
"I felt it before," Kaelen admitted. "In my dreams. With her."
Selene's jaw tensed. "Seraphine."
"Do you know what she is?"
Selene looked away. "No. But I don't trust her."
"Neither do I," Kaelen said. "But she knows something about me. Something I don't."
A flicker of vulnerability passed through his voice.
"I'm afraid, Selene. What if this thing inside me… isn't mine?"
She turned to him, eyes softer than he expected. "Then we figure it out. Together."
He nodded, the moment stretching just long enough to matter.
Then a presence stirred behind them.
Seraphine stood under the stone arch, violet eyes watching the two of them.
Kaelen rose as she approached. Selene stood too, body tensing like a blade unsheathed.
Seraphine stopped an arm's length away. Her voice was quiet.
"You shouldn't have cast that spell."
"I didn't mean to."
"But it answered you."
She reached out, brushing her fingertips just shy of his wrist where the sigil still shimmered faintly beneath the skin.
"You're waking faster than I expected."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she said, voice threaded with something deeper than warning, "you don't have much time to stay hidden."
Selene stepped between them. "He's not alone."
Seraphine's gaze lingered on Kaelen. "No. He never has been."
Then she turned and walked away, her cloak trailing light as if the stars themselves followed her footsteps.
Kaelen stared after her.
The sigil on his arm pulsed once. Then again.
Not a warning.
A heartbeat.