Friday arrived with cold rain hammering against the dormitory windows. Kael dressed carefully, checking his appearance in the mirror. Just another Shadow-ranked student preparing for mandatory Clan History class. Nothing remarkable. Nothing threatening.
But his heart hammered against his ribs. Today he would sit in the same room as Professor Magnus Thorn—the man who signed his parents' death warrant fifteen years ago.
*Control yourself. He doesn't know you. You're just another face in a crowd of students.*
The Grand Hall occupied the academy's central building, a massive chamber with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows depicting the five clan crests. Three hundred chairs arranged in semicircular rows, all facing an elevated platform where Professor Thorn would hold court.
Kael arrived early, choosing a seat in the middle section—close enough to see clearly, far enough back to avoid direct attention. Students filtered in gradually, conversations echoing off stone walls.
Marcus dropped into the seat beside Kael. "Ready for two hours of propaganda?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"Thorn's supposed to be brilliant," Marcus said. "Before becoming headmaster, he was some kind of strategic advisor to multiple clans. People say he's orchestrated half the major corporate takeovers in the last twenty years."
*And orchestrated dozens of assassinations. Don't forget that part.*
Aria Blackthorn entered with her usual group, taking a seat in the front row. She glanced back once, her eyes finding Kael with unnerving accuracy. Then Raven Steele arrived, choosing a seat on the opposite side but with clear sight lines to Kael's position.
*Both of them are watching. This is getting dangerous.*
At precisely two PM, Professor Magnus Thorn entered through a side door.
Kael's breath caught. He'd seen photos, studied videos, and memorized this man's face from a thousand angles. But seeing him in person was different. Thorn was fifty-two, gray-haired and distinguished, moving with calm authority. He wore an expensive suit and carried himself like someone who'd never questioned his right to power.
This man had killed Kael's parents. Had ordered them murdered like they were problems to be solved rather than human beings with a child who loved them.
Kael's hands clenched until his knuckles went white.
*Control. Maintain control. He's untouchable right now. You need evidence first.*
"Welcome," Thorn's voice filled the hall without shouting—trained projection, commanding attention effortlessly. "This course covers the history of the five ancient clans and their role in shaping modern civilization. Some of you come from these families. Most of you don't. All of you will learn to respect what they've built."
He activated a holographic display showing a timeline stretching back two centuries. "The Morrison, Blackthorn, Steele, Vale, and Chen families didn't inherit power—they earned it through vision, sacrifice, and unwavering commitment to order."
The lecture began with early history, tracing each family's rise from wealthy merchants to global power brokers. Thorn spoke eloquently, weaving a narrative of heroic leaders making difficult choices for the greater good.
It was masterful manipulation. Every atrocity was reframed as a necessity. Every power grab is presented as a reluctant duty. The Resource Wars—where thousands died—became a story of restoration and stability.
"The families didn't want war," Thorn explained, his voice heavy with false regret. "But when governments failed, when chaos threatened civilization itself, someone had to act. The five clans possessed the resources, the vision, and the courage to do what others couldn't."
*Liar. You orchestrated the collapse so you could seize control.*
Kael took notes mechanically, his face neutral, while rage burned in his chest. Around him, students absorbed the propaganda. Some looked skeptical, but most accepted it—especially those from clan families, eager to believe their privilege came from merit rather than violence.
"Take Michael Morrison, for example," Thorn continued, and Kael went rigid. "Victor Morrison's younger brother. A brilliant strategist who unfortunately lacked the conviction necessary for leadership."
A photo appeared—Kael's father, younger than Kael remembered, smiling at some formal event. Seeing that face after fifteen years hit like a physical blow.
"Michael questioned the difficult decisions required during the Resource Wars," Thorn said. "He advocated for... softer approaches. Compromise with failing governments. Distribution of clan resources to the general population. Noble sentiments, perhaps, but impractical. His death in an accidental fire was a tragedy that haunts the Morrison family to this day."
*Accidental fire. You're standing there calling it an accident when you ordered it yourself.*
Marcus leaned close, whispering. "You okay? You look pale."
Kael forced himself to breathe normally. "Fine. Just hungry. Skipped lunch."
The lecture continued for another hour, covering each family's contributions. The Blackthorns' pharmaceutical innovations—gloss over the experimental drugs tested on unwilling subjects. The Steeles' military efficiency—ignoring the coups they'd orchestrated. The Vales' financial systems—omitting the economies they'd deliberately collapsed.
Finally, Thorn reached the present day. "You students represent the future of this system. Some of you will lead clans. Others will serve them. All of you will uphold the order these families have built. Remember—stability requires hierarchy. Peace requires strength. Progress requires sacrifice."
He paused, scanning the room. His gaze passed over Kael without recognition, and Kael felt a cold satisfaction. The man who'd destroyed his family had no idea he was staring at a ghost returned for vengeance.
"Questions?" Thorn asked.
Several hands rose. Thorn fielded them expertly—questions about family histories, about the academy's relationship with the clans, about career opportunities for graduates.
Then Aria Blackthorn raised her hand. "Professor Thorn, you mentioned Michael Morrison's death was accidental. But I've read reports suggesting irregularities in the investigation. Was there ever a thorough inquiry?"
The room went silent. Several students shifted uncomfortably—questioning official family narratives was dangerous territory.
Thorn's expression didn't change, but Kael saw something flicker in his eyes. Calculation. "Miss Blackthorn, I understand your interest in historical accuracy. However, some tragedies are best left in the past. The Morrison family was investigated thoroughly at the time. Continuing to question their conclusions seems... disrespectful to their grief."
"Of course," Aria said smoothly. "I meant no disrespect."
But Kael saw what she was doing. Aria suspected something too. She was pushing boundaries, testing what questions were allowed.
*She's dangerous. Too intelligent, too curious, asking questions that could expose everything.*
The class ended at four PM. Students filed out in clusters, discussing the lecture. Kael moved with the crowd, keeping his expression neutral despite the turmoil inside.
He'd survived sitting in the same room as his parents' killer. Had listened to lies about his father's death without screaming the truth. Had maintained his cover while every instinct demanded violence.
"That was interesting," Marcus said as they exited. "Thorn's a compelling speaker, even if half of it's probably bullshit."
"More than half," Sarah muttered, catching up to them. "My grandfather lived through the Resource Wars. The official story and his version don't match."
They walked together toward the dormitories, but Kael's attention was divided. He needed to be alone, needed to process everything, needed to check his dead drops for any new intelligence his master might have left.
"Kael." A voice behind him—female, commanding.
He turned to find Raven Steele approaching, her expression unreadable. "Walk with me."
It wasn't a request. Marcus and Sarah exchanged glances but kept walking, leaving Kael alone with Raven.
They walked in silence toward the training grounds, rain still falling steadily. Finally, Raven spoke. "You reacted during the lecture. When Thorn mentioned Michael Morrison. Your hands clenched, your breathing changed. Most people wouldn't notice, but I'm trained to notice."
Kael said nothing, mind racing through possible responses.
"I don't know your story," Raven continued. "Don't know why you're really here or what you're hiding. But I recognize someone carrying a mission. I've been carrying one my entire life—clearing my father's name, proving he was framed by people like Thorn."
She stopped walking, turning to face Kael directly. "So here's my offer. You're planning something. I can see it. Whatever it is, you'll need help eventually. When that time comes, you know where to find me."
"Why would you help me?" Kael asked carefully.
"Because anyone who looks at Magnus Thorn the way you did—like they want to tear him apart—is someone who sees the truth beneath the propaganda." Raven smiled without humor. "The enemy of my enemy, and all that."
She walked away, leaving Kael standing in the rain.
Two offers of alliance in one week. Marcus's friendship, probably genuine. Raven's partnership, definitely tactical.
Both dangerous. Both are potentially useful.
Kael continued to his dormitory, his mind already working through scenarios. He couldn't trust anyone completely, but he also couldn't accomplish everything alone.
The ghost was gathering allies.
Whether they knew it or not.