Kaelen woke to the scent of ink, ash, and lavender oil.
He didn't recognize the ceiling.
Polished stone. Faint glyphs woven into the grain. Not the Tribunal. Not the Academy dorms either.
The air shimmered with recent casting.
His body ached like it had been thrown through five wards and dragged back.
Then warmth shifted at his side.
He turned—and saw Selene asleep in the chair beside his cot, her head tilted back, arms crossed loosely, cloak slipping off her shoulders.
She looked exhausted. But she hadn't left.
For a moment, he just watched her. Let the stillness settle.
Then—softly—"You're awake."
The voice wasn't Selene's.
Seraphine stood near the door, arms folded, face unreadable.
Her crimson sash was gone. No badge of Tower affiliation. Her gloves were off.
And her glyph… was dimmed.
Kaelen sat up slowly. His muscles screamed in protest.
"Where am I?"
"A sealed recovery chamber under the west wing," Seraphine said. "Only three keys open it. Mira gave me one."
He blinked. "Why?"
"Because the Tribunal wanted to lock you down." Her voice grew colder. "Wipe your memory. Strip your glyph and call it an accident."
He remembered the light. The voices. The visions. The name he'd spoken.
"I said Selene's name," he murmured.
Seraphine didn't answer.
He turned slightly, looking at her again.
"You knew what the Tribunal would do."
"I had a letter." She looked away. "I ignored it."
Kaelen watched her carefully.
"You chose me."
Her eyes flashed. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Silence pulsed between them.
Seraphine stepped closer.
"Whatever you are, Kaelen... whatever's waking up in that mark—you've changed something. The Tower isn't just watching anymore. They're reacting."
He nodded, quietly.
"I saw it. In the Tribunal. They weren't in control. They were scared."
Seraphine met his gaze.
"I'm scared too."
He didn't know what to say to that.
So she turned—and left, her scent lingering behind her.
Selene stirred a moment later, blinking awake, groaning softly.
She caught his eyes.
And then—without hesitation—hugged him.
"I thought they took you."
He hugged her back. No words needed.
For a long time, the silence between them wasn't empty—it was full of all the things they had survived.
Later that night, they stood on the edge of the west tower's balcony, looking down at the Academy.
The glyph storm from the Tribunal chamber had left fractures across the eastern halls. Rumors ran wild. Professors were questioning each other behind closed doors. A second-year had tried to sketch Kaelen's glyph in a journal—only for the page to burn itself.
Selene leaned on the railing, hair loose, eyes distant.
"I remember more each time you flare it," she whispered.
Kaelen turned to her.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think it's just you echoing someone. I think we're resonating." Her fingers curled against the cold stone. "When you saw me… down there. What did you see?"
He hesitated.
"You."
"Which version?"
He reached out—touching her hand gently.
"This one."
Her breath caught.
Then, softly—"They're not going to let you stay here."
"I know."
"They'll try to erase you. Rewrite what happened."
"I know."
She turned to face him fully.
"Then run. Tonight. I'll come with you."
Kaelen was silent.
Then: "And Seraphine?"
Selene stiffened. Her voice dropped. "What about her?"
"She saved me too."
Selene looked away.
"Then you'll have to decide."
The next morning came quietly.
No horns. No alarm bells.
But a letter was left under Kaelen's door.
Sealed in wax.
From Mira.
"You are no longer safe here. The Tower will return. Your glyph is now categorized as Anomalous-Class Echo. You have three days before the official censure arrives. Use them."
"This school was built to bind the ones who remember. You are not bound. That means you are dangerous."
"You'll find what you need in the old observatory. Use the eastern stair. Trust only those who bled with you."
–Mira.
Kaelen folded the letter and stared out the window.
Below, the Academy sparkled under a new morning sun.
But he saw it differently now.
The veil was thinning.
He wasn't a student anymore.
He was a threat.
Seraphine sat alone in the archives, reading a letter of her own.
Not from Mira.
From her superior at the Tower.
"Your hesitation is noted. Your loyalty is not confirmed. If the boy awakens fully, it is your responsibility to delay his stabilization. Your glyph access will be audited. Your actions reviewed. You were chosen for a reason. Do not forget it."
She stared at the words until they blurred.
Then she folded the paper.
And burned it.
Selene waited for Kaelen at the observatory gates that night.
She wore no cloak. No mask. Her hair gleamed like moonlight, loose around her shoulders.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
Kaelen nodded.
His glyph pulsed faintly beneath his sleeve.
"They won't forget me," he said quietly. "But I won't let them erase what we've built either."
Selene offered her hand.
He took it.
And as they vanished into the stairway under the observatory, two things were clear:
One—Kaelen's story was only beginning.
And two—
The Tower had remembered the wrong boy.