Chapter Three – The Hollow Between the Notes
Part Four – The Echo That Breathed Too Loud
It was only supposed to be a practice cast.
The training field behind the Lyceum was laced with containment glyphs now—shimmering panels of resonance that could withstand a Veilmark surge for about three seconds. Any longer, and they shattered. Luma had proven that earlier, accidentally vaporizing half the field's back wall when she coughed mid-cast and released a healing glyph backwards.
Today's routine wasn't instructor-led. Liraen Vosk was still inside speaking with Doctrine agents about the upcoming Resonant Trial. The trainees were left to run formations on their own, unsupervised.
That was the mistake.
Zephryn moved to the middle of the casting ring, arms loose, spine relaxed the way Selka had taught him during pulse drills. He didn't feel steady—he felt watched. The hum behind his ears wouldn't stop twitching.
Kaelen stepped into the circle opposite him.
"We need to pressure it," Kaelen said, voice low. "The glyph's unstable because you don't cast. You hold it. And when you hold it too long—"
"It spills," Zephryn finished.
"No," Kaelen said. "It shouts."
Zephryn nodded once. His silver hair was pulled back, damp from the field's humidity, the silver crest across his forearm faintly aglow. It hadn't stopped flickering since the Pulse Eye awakened it.
Selka, Yolti, and the others watched from outside the ring.
Kaelen lifted a hand. "Veilmark ready."
Zephryn exhaled. "Veilmark ready."
"Echo Two spar," Kaelen said, grin curving slightly. "Let's see what's louder. My flame, or your lightning."
—
The first strike was silent—Kaelen's cast didn't ignite immediately. Instead, he launched a chain of resonance along the floor, ember-traced, heat pulsing through the glyph threads. Zephryn dodged it, barely, the hum around his chest flaring with instinct.
A bolt flickered around his fingers.
Not on purpose.
He didn't even move. The Veilmark just reacted. Like it had been waiting.
Kaelen moved to strike—flame burst open across his palm like an echo flare, twisting along his forearm. "You gotta aim it," he shouted. "Focus, Zeph!"
Zephryn's eyes flashed.
The next bolt didn't flicker—it cracked.
The glyph containment snapped, scattering light. The field groaned under the resonance pressure. Selka moved forward instantly, hand on her blade.
"Stop!" Liraen Vosk's voice cut through the courtyard like a blade of her own.
The hum died.
All power pulled back into the marks, fading to embers. Kaelen dropped his flame, panting once. Zephryn's glyph still shimmered faintly, even after silence returned.
Liraen stalked toward them. "What was that? That wasn't a spar. That was a prelude to fracture."
"They were trying to stabilize the mark," Selka said. "Zephryn's cast is—"
"—dangerous," Vosk snapped. "He could've lit the dorms if the pulse had traveled wrong."
"But it didn't," Kaelen said. "Because I controlled my flame. And he controlled the bolt."
Liraen looked between them. Her eyes rested on Zephryn. "You think you're ready to enter my class with that mark active? When you haven't even defined your elemental secondaries? When you can't even hold a cast without shaking the trees?"
"I didn't mean to—"
"That's what people say before they break someone's spine."
Selka stepped forward, teeth gritted. "That's enough."
"No," Vosk said. "It's not. Because the next time it happens, the Doctrine will ask why I didn't report it."
The courtyard fell into stillness.
Then Vosk turned. "Echo, Medic, Recon—return to studies. One hour rest, then chamber drills."
She paused only once more—looking over her shoulder at Zephryn.
"You're not the only anomaly walking these halls," she said. "But you hum like one."
—
Later, in the Lyceum library—where silence had a different sound—Selka pulled down a tome on elemental synchronization. Zephryn leaned beside her, shoulder against stone.
"Thanks," he said. "Back there."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I do."
Selka flipped the page. "The glyph responded on its own."
"I felt it," Zephryn said. "It wasn't casting. It was… defending."
She closed the book.
"That's not a bad thing," she whispered. "But you need to understand this: if your Veilmark feels threatened, it'll respond harder next time. And no one will believe it wasn't you."
Zephryn nodded slowly.
She reached for his forearm, fingers grazing the edge of the glyph. "The Silver Crest hums when you lie to yourself. So stop lying. You're not broken. You're brimming. You just don't know the shape of the flood yet."
—
That night, Kaelen sat outside, sketching symbols into the dirt.
Yolti watched from behind. "You ever seen a mark that strong?"
Kaelen didn't look up. "Once."
"When?"
"When I was a kid. My brother cast from a mirror. Thought he saw someone else in the reflection. Thought the glyph could reach through. He wasn't wrong. But it cracked the room."
"And?"
"And the Doctrine silenced him. His mark never flared again."
Yolti was quiet.
Kaelen finished the last symbol, then whispered:
"Zephryn's mark didn't come from this timeline. That's why it stutters. The Choir didn't forge it. They're afraid of it."