Kayden did not dream that night.
Instead, he remembered—though nothing came with shape or clarity.
Only sensation.
Cold stone beneath his feet.
A pressure in his chest, tight and aching.
And a voice—low, distant, speaking a name he did not yet recognize as his own.
He woke with a sharp inhale, sitting upright as pale dawn light filtered through the infirmary windows.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
Then the scent of herbs, the hum of stabilizing runes, and the soft murmur of healers grounded him in the present.
"You're awake."
Kayden turned his head.
Kirti sat in the chair beside his bed, posture straight despite the long night. Her golden eyes reflected the morning light, unreadable but alert.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"Several hours," she replied. "Your mana destabilized briefly. The healers were… concerned."
Kayden grimaced. "I'm sorry."
She tilted her head slightly. "For what?"
"For causing trouble again."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You did not cause this."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with things neither knew how to name.
Finally, Kirti spoke. "Cael Vorryn requested to see you."
Kayden stiffened. "Here?"
"No," she said. "He was denied entry. He didn't resist."
That, somehow, worried Kayden more.
"He said something," Kayden murmured. "Before the instructors intervened."
Kirti leaned forward. "What did he say?"
"That I didn't remember."
Kirti's fingers tightened subtly on the armrest.
"That confirms my suspicion," she said quietly.
Kayden searched her face. "Which is…?"
"There are factions," Kirti said, choosing her words carefully, "that exist outside the kingdom's official authority. Some predate it. Some existed before the academy, before the noble houses."
She met his eyes.
"And some of them remember things that were meant to be forgotten."
⸻
The Council Watches
High above the academy, within the circular chamber reserved for the Student Council, three figures observed the morning courtyard through a crystalline window.
"The incident was not minor," said Seraphine Crowe, her silver hair pulled into a precise braid. As Head Prefect, her voice carried quiet authority. "Wards designed to withstand high-tier instructors barely held."
Across from her, Joren Halwick leaned back in his chair, boots resting against the table edge. His expression was sharp, calculating. "And yet no one was injured. Interesting, isn't it?"
The third council member, Elias Veyne, adjusted his glasses, eyes glowing faintly with analysis magic. "The mana signatures overlapped briefly. Silver and crimson. That should not be possible without catastrophic backlash."
Seraphine's gaze narrowed. "Unless one of them isn't bound by conventional rules."
Joren smirked. "You mean the baron's son."
"I mean both of them," Seraphine corrected.
Elias hesitated. "Cael Vorryn's records are inconsistent. His origin point does not align with any known registry. It is as if he appeared into existence with credentials already prepared."
Seraphine folded her hands. "Then we proceed carefully."
Joren's grin widened. "Carefully is boring."
She shot him a look. "Necessary."
⸻
Lessons and Warnings
Kayden returned to class under supervision.
Whispers followed him again—but quieter now, edged with caution.
Instructor Halverin observed him closely throughout the lecture, his expression unreadable. When the bell rang, he gestured Kayden forward.
"Walk with me."
Kayden obeyed.
They moved through the outer corridors, stone walls etched with centuries of protective sigils.
"You are not trained," Halverin said at last. "That much is clear."
Kayden nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And yet your instincts are refined beyond what even combat-raised children possess."
Kayden swallowed. "I don't understand it myself."
Halverin stopped.
He turned, eyes sharp—not unkind, but piercing.
"There are teachers here who wish to mold you," he said. "Others who wish to restrain you. And some who would rather you disappear before questions arise."
Kayden's breath caught.
"You must decide," Halverin continued, "whether you will remain reactive… or learn control."
He extended a small, rune-etched token.
"This grants you access to the lower training halls—under supervision. If you choose to accept instruction, come at dawn."
Kayden accepted the token with shaking fingers.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Halverin's voice softened, just slightly.
"Be careful, Kayden Lythmoor. Power that does not understand itself attracts those who do."
⸻
The Threat Reveals Itself
That evening, far beyond the academy's outer wards, Cael Vorryn stood alone beneath a dying tree.
Crimson mana curled around his fingers like smoke.
"So it's true," he murmured. "The vessel remains intact."
A shadow shifted behind him.
"You're certain?" a voice asked from the darkness.
"Yes," Cael replied. "The soul is fractured, but not erased. He simply doesn't know what he is yet."
The voice chuckled softly. "And the girl?"
Cael's eyes flickered gold for a fraction of a second.
"She is closer to awakening," he said. "Much closer."
The shadow withdrew.
"Then the seal beneath the academy will not hold much longer."
Cael smiled faintly.
"Good," he said. "Let the world remember."
⸻
Echoes of Tomorrow
That night, Kayden dreamed again.
But this time, the dream did not fade when he woke.
A door stood before him—ancient, vast, wrapped in chains of light and shadow.
And from beyond it—
His own voice.
Not a child's.
Not uncertain.
Strong. Calm. Resolute.
When you are ready… I will answer.
Kayden woke with tears in his eyes.
And somewhere deep beneath the academy, something ancient stirred in response.
⸻
To Be Continued — Chapter 11: "The Door Beneath the Stone"