The dreams started three nights after the tournament.
Ethan woke with sweat on his forehead and the taste of blood in his mouth and his heart hammered against his ribs. In the darkness, a phantom steel gleamed at the edge of his vision.
Come to me.
The voice wasn't his own. It echoed from his brain, like an automated message.
You know where I wait.
Kaleb stirred in the next bed. Ethan stayed like that lying straight until his roommate's breathing evened out. The last thing he needed was questions about midnight terrors.
He sat up slowly and his hands shook as he reached for the water cup beside his bed. The liquid tasted wrong - not water, but something sharper. Something that burned going down.
Blood and Ashes!!! The price of power.
The voice again. Ethan pressed his palms against his temples. This was new. Different from the memories that sometimes bled through from his old life.this felt more like an external message directly sent to him and that something that wanted in.
**********
Training the next morning was a disaster.
"Again," Master Donovan said. His voice carried the feeling of being on the brink of patience.
Ethan raised his practice sword. His grip felt loose, uncertain. Across the circle, his sparring partner waited with growing confidence.
The attack came fast. Ethan's parry was too slow, too weak. Wood cracked against his ribs. Pain bloomed through his chest.
"Sloppy," Donovan observed. "Your mind is elsewhere, Cole."
If only you knew why.
Ethan reset his stance. Tried to focus on the present moment instead of the words that repeated at the back of his thoughts. His next defense was better. The one after that almost adequate.
But Donovan kept watching. Those gray eyes tracked every movement, cataloged every mistake. After class, he lingered while other students filed out.
"A word," Donovan said.
Ethan's stomach dropped. "Master?"
"You've been distracted lately. Have you been sleeping well?"
The truth pressed against Ethan's teeth. I dream of a weapon that whispers my name. I see visions of warriors who died wielding power they couldn't control. Something in this Academy wants to complete a bond that might destroy me.
"Just tournament nerves," he said instead.
Donovan's expression didn't change. "I see. And these nerves cause you to flinch from attacks you can easily handle?"
Heat crept up Ethan's neck. "I've been trying new techniques. Still working out the timing."
"New techniques." Donovan stepped closer. "Tell me, where did you learn the Valorian Water-Dance?"
Ice filled Ethan's veins. "The what?"
"The counter you used against Giles Galline in the tournament. Very advanced footwork. Donovan's smile was razor-thin. "Curious thing for an executioner's son to know."
He's been studying my fights. Movement by movement.
"I don't know what you mean, Sir," Ethan said.
"Of course not." Donovan turned toward the door. "Perhaps these sleeping troubles will leave once you've sorted out what's really bothering you."
He left Ethan alone in the training hall with the growing certainty that time was running out.
**********
Maya found him in the library that afternoon and she looked as tired as he felt - dark circles under her eyes, tension in her movements.
"We need to talk," she said quietly.
They found an empty study alcove in the back corner. Dust motes danced around in the afternoon light while Maya pulled books from her bag. Her hands trembled slightly as she set them on the table.
"I've been having dreams," she said.
Ethan's pulse quickened. "What kind of dreams?"
"Light. Pure white light that burns without heat." She opened one of the books. Inside were her own sketches - rough drawings of a staff topped with a crystal that appeared glowing. "It calls to me. Every night. With this exact words"
"You know where I wait."
The same words. The same pull.
"Where?" Ethan asked.
"Somewhere below. Deep in the Academy's foundation. There are chambers down there that existed before the main building." Maya's voice dropped to a whisper. "Chambers full of things that should have stayed buried."
Ethan thought about the hidden library. About the hooded figures and their talk of magical anomalies. About Master Donovan's growing suspicions.
"We can't," he said.
"Can't what?"
"Whatever you're thinking of doing. Looking for these chambers. Following the dreams." He met her eyes. "It's too dangerous."
Maya stared at him. "You're having them too."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Then you know we don't have a choice. Whatever is down there, it's connected to us. To what we are." She leaned forward. "The dreams are getting stronger. Last night I could almost see the path. The way down."
Come to me.
The voice whispered in Ethan's thoughts. Warm. Insistent. Promising power beyond measure.
But it was demanding a price he wasn't sure he could pay.
"We'll be watched," he said. "Donovan suspects something. And Lydia..."
"What about her?"
Ethan glanced around the library. Students bent over books, focused on their studies. Normal Academy life continuing while he and Maya discussed some supernatural compulsions into the depths of the earth.
"She knows things. About temporal magic anomalies. Even about us." He kept his voice low. "She's dangerous."
"More dangerous than ignoring a call that's getting stronger every night?" Maya's eyes flashed gold. "Because that's what's happening, Ethan. Each dream is more vivid than the last. Soon I won't be able to tell the difference between sleeping and waking."
A shadow fell across their table.
"Interesting reading material," Lydia said.
They both spun. She stood beside their alcove with that same calculating smile. How long had she been listening?
"Academic research," Maya said quickly, closing her sketchbook.
"Of course." Lydia's amber eyes tracked the movement. "Though I have to wonder why you're researching divine artifacts. Rather advanced topic for general studies."
Ethan felt the walls closing in. "We should go."
"Should you?" Lydia sat down uninvited. "Because I've been having the most interesting dreams lately. Visions of light and shadow. Weapons that sing in harmony with human souls."
Maya's face went pale.
"You're not the only ones feeling the call," Lydia continued. "The question is, what you are planning to do about it?"
The library suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. Other students seemed far away, separated by a bubble of tension that made Ethan's skin crawl.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"Don't you?" Lydia's smile widened. "Because from where I sit, it looks like the Academy's collection is calling to worthy hosts. And some of us are finally ready to answer."
She stood and walked away, leaving them alone with their books and the growing certainty that they were no longer the only ones playing this game.
**********
That night, the dreams came stronger than ever.
Ethan stood in a vast chamber carved from rocks. Weapon racks lined the walls, each holding artifacts that hummed with power. At the center of the room, a pedestal rose from the floor.
On it lay a sword.
Not the Kingmaker Blade from his memories, but something else. A fragment of it. A piece that had been waiting in the Academy's depths for someone worthy to claim it.
Take me up.
The voice was clearer now. Closer. It spoke with the authority of ages, the weight of destiny.
Complete what was begun.
Ethan reached out. His fingers almost touched the hilt before he jerked awake.
Beside him, Kaleb slept peacefully. But across the Academy, Ethan knew others were stirring. Others who had felt the same call, seen the same chamber.
The fragment was ready to choose its wielder and time was running out to decide whether that was a gift or a curse.