When Kael woke the next morning, his sigil was glowing faintly—still, persistent, like the echo of a scream that hadn't quite stopped.
He covered it with a wrap before heading out.
No one needed to see that.
The corridors of the Academy were unusually quiet. A curfew had been issued following a strange power fluctuation that the staff claimed was "an unstable training artifact malfunction." Kael and Rin knew better. Whatever was beneath the school—whatever Caleus and the Circle were protecting—had sent a tremor through the layers of reality.
The sigils felt it.
And so did Kael.
As he entered the training grounds, a familiar voice called to him.
"Skipping your duel with Instructor Ryneth?" asked Lira, leaning on the hilt of her training spear.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you say I should stay away from real fights? Or were you planning to lose again?"
She snorted. "You were lucky. And reckless."
"I prefer 'innovative.' Has a nicer ring."
"You nearly burned out your sigil."
Kael's face turned serious. "And yet, here I am. Still standing."
That silenced her.
Not because he was right, but because they both knew he wasn't supposed to still be standing.
Ryneth's lesson today wasn't combat—it was bond training.
Most believed that the sigil only responded to will and strength, but Ryneth had long maintained there was a deeper layer: Resonance. The connection between wielder and intent. Between desire and discipline.
They were instructed to sit, close their eyes, and reach inward.
Kael hated this part.
He wasn't good at stillness. His thoughts were too loud, too sarcastic, too broken. But today, he tried. Not because he believed Ryneth. But because of what the Circle had shown him.
His sigil wasn't just reacting—it was evolving.
And it wanted something from him.
Inside his mindscape, the usual fog of emotion settled in: anger, guilt, loneliness… but this time, there was a voice.
Not words.
A feeling.
He chased it.
Down a hallway of shifting thoughts, across broken memories—his brother's laughter, his father's silence, his mother's tear-streaked face when Kael had first awakened his sigil.
He ran, faster and faster, until he came to a door.
He'd never seen it before. It pulsed with a faint light, etched with a symbol—a combination of his sigil and… another.
Different.
Older.
When he reached for it—
It burned.
He snapped back to reality, gasping, eyes wide. The training room swam around him. Everyone else was still meditating. Only Ryneth had noticed his break.
The instructor approached, crouched beside him. "You touched something, didn't you?"
Kael didn't answer.
"You're not like the others," Ryneth said quietly. "You never were."
Kael looked at him then. "Do you know what the sigils really are?"
Ryneth hesitated. "I know what the Academy teaches."
"That's not what I asked."
Ryneth didn't reply.
But the brief flicker of fear in the instructor's eyes told Kael everything he needed to know.
That night, Kael returned to the lower tunnels. But Rin wasn't with him. She was researching in the archive library, chasing a different thread.
This one he needed to follow alone.
He reached the obsidian chamber. The others were already there.
Caleus, the white-haired girl—whose name he'd finally learned was Syl—the stoic boy, Jorren.
No greetings were exchanged.
"We felt your sigil flare," Syl said.
Kael nodded. "There was… a door. In my mind. With a second sigil on it."
Caleus's expression tightened. "You saw the Overmark."
"Is that what it's called?"
"No," Caleus said. "It's what we call it. Because no one knows what it really is. Only that those who cross it don't come back the same."
Kael asked, "And those who don't open it?"
"They become powerful," Syl replied, "but limited. Tethered to the known paths. The true power—real growth—starts after that door."
"And the cost?"
"Everything that makes you who you are."
Later, as Kael sat alone in his dorm, sketching the Overmark symbol from memory, Rin barged in.
"I found something," she said breathlessly, holding out an ancient scroll.
Kael took it, confused. "What is this?"
"It's not about our sigils," she said. "It's about the Sigilbearers—the first ones. The ones from before the Fall."
Kael stared. "I thought they were myths."
"They weren't. And they weren't born with power. They stole it. From something else."
Kael blinked. "From what?"
Rin hesitated.
"That's the part no one agrees on. Some say it was from the stars. Some say from a dead god. But all versions agree on one thing."
She lowered her voice.
"They didn't take it alone. They were guided."
Far away, beyond the range of mortal vision, a prison cracked.
Chains woven from will and memory groaned.
And something… listened.
It remembered the sigils.
It remembered Kael.
And soon, it would reach out.
Not with power.
But with a question.
"Will you open the door?"