Chapter 29
The next day brought a hush to the academy.
Not silence—but tension. Unseen threads pulled tighter as word of Astern's display in the Lower Sanctum spread like wildfire. Whispers leaked from the upper halls. Even the second-years paused when he passed.
"Something's off," Kaela said as they entered the Hall of Arcane Applications. "I feel like everyone's waiting for something."
Lunaria nodded. "It's not fear. It's calculation. They're adjusting their expectations."
Professor Vareth, a short but sharp-eyed woman known for teaching strategic augmentation, called them into groups. "Today," she announced, "we begin weapon attunement."
The class buzzed. This was what many students waited for.
Each angel in Sanctum Astrae was eventually bound to a primary weapon—one that resonated with their attribute, history, and spiritual frequency. These weapons weren't just tools. They were extensions of the soul.
The process of binding, however, could be dangerous.
The chamber of Echoing Steel hummed with relics. Blades, spears, bows, chains, and artifacts floated in sealed cases, pulsing with suppressed essence.
"You will enter one at a time," Vareth said. "Let the relics call to you."
Kaela grinned. "I'm hoping for something sharp and overly dramatic."
Lunaria rolled her eyes. "You are sharp and overly dramatic."
Astern remained quiet.
One by one, students entered. Some emerged successful, clutching new weapons. Others came out burned or empty-handed.
When Astern entered, the chamber shifted.
The relics dimmed. One in the far back pulsed.
It hovered in the shadows—a curved blade made of dark-silver crystal, veined with faint traces of light. Runes lined its hilt like dormant eyes.
The air thickened.
Astern stepped forward.
The blade whispered.
Not in words, but in breathless memory.
Chains. Screams. Wings of ash. A throne.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the hilt, the world cracked.
His vision filled with fire. A battlefield of fallen stars. A ghoul tearing through angels. A child crying in a crater.
Then silence.
And the blade rested in his hand.
It hummed with resonance—neither cursed nor blessed, but bound.
He emerged from the chamber, holding the weapon.
Vareth stepped back slightly. "What… is that?"
Astern answered quietly. "Whispersteel."
Lunaria touched the hilt. "It doesn't feel like a normal relic."
Kaela studied it. "It feels like it's... alive."
Astern nodded. "It remembers more than I do."
---
That night, alone in his dorm, Astern stared at the blade.
It was beautiful. Terrifying.
It hadn't chosen him because he was worthy.
It had chosen him because it knew him.
Because it remembered who he was…
Even if he didn't.