The applause faded slowly, but the whisper it left behind was louder than any cheer.
"Did you see that?""He didn't even flare.""Kael Arin just dismantled Dren."
Kael walked off the arena floor like a man possessed—not with power, but with clarity.
The patterns were becoming more fluid. The sigil no longer just pulsed with energy; it flowed with intent. Where before it was a tool, it now responded like a part of his mind.
That both thrilled and terrified him.
At the edge of the crowd, Lys waited with a grin that almost reached her eyes. "You made it look easy."
Kael exhaled slowly. "Wasn't."
Rin joined them moments later, tossing him a flask of coolwater. "You moved like someone who'd already seen the duel play out in his head."
Kael took a long drink, wiped his mouth, and muttered, "Maybe I had."
Lys tilted her head. "Still having those... visions?"
He didn't answer.
Later that evening, Kael stood alone on the Academy's western watchtower, the cold wind biting against his skin as stars crawled across the sky.
He wasn't hiding. Not exactly.
He was thinking.
The book from the Vault still weighed on his mind—the words about the Origin, the hunger, the binding. What did it mean for the sigils? For him?
"The sigils were not weapons. They were seals."
Seals against what?
And if he was growing stronger... what exactly was waking up inside him?
Footsteps behind him.
Kael didn't flinch. "You don't exactly have subtle boots."
Coren approached, arms folded, expression unreadable. He looked like someone balancing a blade on their tongue.
"You're on the Watchers' list now."
Kael blinked. "I didn't know they kept a list."
"They do. For threats. Promises. Outliers."
Kael gave a half-smile. "Which am I?"
"Yes," Coren said dryly.
The two stood in silence for a while. Below them, the city shimmered under torchlight. Somewhere, laughter rang from a tavern.
Coren leaned on the stone edge. "They'll call you to the upper halls soon. You're strong enough now. Or interesting enough."
Kael arched a brow. "I'm not sure that's a compliment."
"It isn't. It's a warning."
Kael turned. "Why help me?"
Coren was quiet for a long time.
Then: "Because I knew someone once. Like you. Clever. Defiant. Too curious for their own good. The Circle broke them."
"...Friend?"
"More than that."
Kael nodded slowly. "I won't break."
"I hope not," Coren said, voice softer. "But hope doesn't matter. What matters is who you are when you reach the threshold. Not everyone survives crossing it."
The summons came the next morning.
An envelope sealed with three sigils. One burned blue. One glowed white. The last pulsed red—a heartbeat of warning.
Kael cracked it open.
Kael Arin, by authority of the Academy and the Circle, you are requested for examination and potential initiation under the Observation Directive. Present yourself at the Tower Apex before second sun.
Kael stared at it for a moment, then tossed it onto his bed.
"Time to meet the Watchers."
The Tower Apex was forbidden ground for most students. It rose high above the central halls, a black spire etched with thousands of sigils—some inert, some still whispering.
Kael walked its winding steps alone.
At the top, a vast chamber opened into twilight. Six figures sat at a crescent table, faces hidden behind masks of silver, gold, obsidian, wood, glass, and bone.
Each mask bore a symbol of authority.
Behind them stood an immense wall engraved with a single sigil so vast it curved like the horizon.
It pulsed once as Kael entered.
The one in silver spoke. Voice sharp, sexless. "Kael Arin. Son of no legacy. Sparked in silence. Rose in flame."
Kael held their gaze. "You forgot 'annoying.' I wear it well."
The bone-masked one chuckled faintly. The rest did not.
"You are here because you've crossed the line between potential and danger," said the gold mask.
Obsidian added, "You used a configuration in the duel that no student should know."
Glass tilted her head. "Where did you learn it?"
Kael shrugged. "Practice. Curiosity. And maybe a dash of stubbornness."
Wood: "You accessed the Vault."
Kael smiled faintly. "You should upgrade your locks."
Another pause.
Silver leaned forward. "What do you seek, Kael Arin?"
That stopped him.
What did he seek?
Not glory. Not power for power's sake.
He thought of Talia. Of her fading eyes. Of his mother's silence, and the whispers in his father's letters. Of truths buried so deep no one remembered them anymore.
"I want to understand," he said finally. "Why the sigils do what they do. Why they change. Why they burn."
Obsidian leaned back. "That is not the answer of a warrior."
"No," Kael said. "It's the answer of someone dangerous. You said it yourself."
They accepted him.
Of course they did.
They needed someone like him now—a variable, a wildcard. Someone who could move where others couldn't.
But Kael saw something in their eyes as they approved his entry into the Apex Circle Initiate Program.
Fear.
Not of what he was.
But of what he might find.
That night, as Kael returned to the student quarter, he found a folded piece of paper under his door.
He unfolded it.
I know what you saw in the Vault. We should talk. Meet me beneath the Archive Roots at midnight. Come alone. — A Friend
Kael sighed.
"Can't even survive one good night's sleep without a secret message. Typical."
He pocketed the note.
Midnight it is.
But what Kael didn't know, as he lay back on his bed with his arms behind his head and the ceiling spinning with silent sigils—
Was that two other initiates had received the exact same note.
And none of them wrote it.