The compound slept in two rhythms: shallow, and dangerous.
Trainees lived in a grid of dormitory cells stacked along the northern wing. Stone floors. Thin doors. Privacy was a rumour. Kael had learned early that whispers here echoed twice—once to the walls, and once to the people who mattered.
It was nearly midnight when he woke.
Not to a sound, but the absence of one.
Tenebris stirred like a breath caught in his chest. A warning.
Kael rose without speaking, pulling on the nearest tunic, bare feet quiet on cold stone. He stepped into the corridor, lightless and still.
A figure waited near the stairwell. Lean, motionless, head slightly tilted. Too poised to be casual.
Teren Valke.
One of the older Whisperer candidates. Slick, clean, precise. Always two steps closer to advancement. And deeply interested in Kael—for all the wrong reasons.
"Couldn't sleep?" Kael said.
Teren didn't answer. His eyes gleamed faintly in the dark. "You're hiding something."
Kael blinked once. "Everyone here is."
"Not like you."
Kael crossed his arms. Tenebris curled like a question mark behind his shoulder, visible only to those who knew what to look for. Teren's gaze flicked there—just for a heartbeat.
"You've got Veil stink," Teren muttered.
Kael laughed under his breath. "Try bathing."
"I'm serious. I saw what you did during sigil rotation. You brushed the sequence, but the light didn't follow the lines—it followed you."
Kael didn't deny it. No point.
Teren took a step closer. "I should report it."
"Then why haven't you?"
"Because I wanted to see your face when I said it."
Kael stayed still. Teren's hand twitched near his belt—not drawing, but ready.
Kael didn't move toward his own blade. Instead, he lowered his voice.
"Whisperers eat secrets. What makes you think they'll spit this one out just for you?"
Teren smiled thinly. "Because you don't belong here. Bastard stable-boy with a cursed shadow? You're not a Whisperer. You're a warning."
Kael's fingers clenched.
"Some of us earned our place," Teren continued. "You got handed a chain and a name and shoved through the door."
Kael stepped forward. Not fast. Not slow.
Just enough to see.
Tenebris slid along his arm, curling faintly around his wrist.
Teren flinched.
"You think this bond makes me powerful?" Kael said quietly. "It doesn't. It makes me visible. To things worse than you. To things that remember the Veil."
Teren's breath hitched.
"You want to make a report?" Kael whispered. "Go ahead. But if you lie—make sure you die, too. Because if they decide you were wrong... they'll make you vanish harder than I ever could."
Tenebris pulsed once. Just enough to drop the temperature in the hallway by a breath.
Teren stepped back.
No more words.
He vanished down the corridor like a rumour losing its edge.
Kael returned to his bunk and sat.
The coin was still under the mattress. Still warm.
He should've thrown it into the river days ago.
He didn't.
Because he knew.
The Veil wasn't hunting him.
It was waiting.
The next morning, drills resumed like nothing had happened.
But Teren didn't speak to him again. Not even a glance.
And in the midday silence between lessons, Kael caught another recruit—Alys—with her eyes flicking toward his shadow when she thought he wouldn't notice.
Word was spreading.
Slow. Quiet. Like mold beneath the stone.
And something about that… felt right.
The Veilbound legacy wasn't clean. It wasn't glorious.
It was a story they'd buried because no one wanted to be it.
But maybe—just maybe—it was the only truth left sharp enough to cut through the lie of the Whisperers.
That night, Kael stood beneath the courtyard wards, watching the Duskveil rise along the horizon.
A soft violet sheen rolled over the hills. Hungry. Familiar.
He held the coin in his palm.
It pulsed.
Once.
Like breath. Like memory. Like invitation.
Behind him, footsteps.
Kael turned.
Ser Whitmer stood beneath the torchlight, leaning heavily on his cane.
"You threaten one of my recruits?" he asked mildly.
Kael didn't answer.
Whitmer smiled without warmth. "Good. You've stopped lying. Saves us both time."
He stepped closer.
"Whatever's in you, boy—it's older than this place. And older things don't play by our rules."
Kael met his eyes. "Then why train me?"
"Because if I don't… something else will."