Kael didn't sleep.
He lay on his back beneath a scatter of stars, staring into a sky that felt farther away than it ever had before. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it again—that pressure, that presence—like something vast shifting just beneath his ribs.
Not moving.
Waiting.
Rothmar had taken them far from the gully before stopping. No fire this time. No proper camp. Just a shallow hollow between two stone outcrops where the wind passed over them instead of through.
Kael could still taste iron.
He flexed his fingers slowly. They obeyed, though they felt heavier than before, as if each movement required conscious permission.
Rothmar sat a short distance away, sharpening his blade with steady, measured strokes. The sound was soft. Rhythmic. Intentional.
Kael finally broke the silence.
"Are they all dead?"
Rothmar didn't look up. "Yes."
Kael nodded, though the confirmation made his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure why he'd asked. He already knew the answer.
"They were different," Kael said after a moment. "From the bandits. From the hunters before."
"They were sanctioned," Rothmar replied. "Not officially. But close enough."
Kael turned his head slightly. "So someone with authority sent them."
"Yes."
Kael stared at the stars. "Because of what I did today?"
Rothmar paused his sharpening for a fraction of a second.
"No," he said. "Because of what you almost did."
Kael's throat went dry.
He remembered the feeling all too clearly—the way the riders had frozen, their wills buckling under something Kael hadn't even known how to name. The ease of it frightened him more than the violence.
"I didn't mean to," Kael said quietly.
"I know," Rothmar said.
"That doesn't make it better," Kael muttered.
Rothmar resumed sharpening. "No. It makes it worse."
Kael exhaled sharply, irritation flaring despite his exhaustion. "You're not helping."
Rothmar finally looked at him.
"You think help means comfort," Rothmar said. "It does not. Not for you."
Kael clenched his jaw, then forced it to loosen. He was too tired to argue properly.
"What was it?" Kael asked instead. "What I did."
Rothmar leaned back against the stone, blade resting across his knees. He studied Kael for a long moment, as if weighing how much truth would not break him.
"You didn't cast magic," Rothmar said. "You didn't manipulate mana. You didn't invoke a spell or a construct."
Kael frowned. "Then how—"
"You imposed," Rothmar said.
Kael's breath caught. "Imposed… what?"
"Your will," Rothmar replied. "Directly."
Kael's chest tightened. "That's not possible."
Rothmar's eyes sharpened. "It is for you."
Kael pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You said magic had rules. Structures. Costs."
"It does," Rothmar said. "Which is why what you did is not considered magic."
Kael stared at him. "Then what is it?"
Rothmar's voice lowered. "It is why your bloodline was erased."
The words settled heavy between them.
Kael swallowed. "You knew this would happen."
"Yes."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "And you still put me in that fight."
"Yes."
Anger flared hot and sharp. Kael surged to his feet despite the ache in his body. "You used me."
Rothmar rose as well, taller, broader, utterly unyielding. "I prepared you."
"You let them corner me!"
"So you would break before they did," Rothmar snapped. "Or so you would die without revealing yourself later."
Kael recoiled as if struck. "You would have let me die?"
Rothmar's gaze was steady. "I would have stopped it if you crossed that line."
"What line?" Kael demanded.
"The line between awakening and losing yourself," Rothmar said. "You didn't cross it."
Kael's anger wavered, confusion bleeding into it. "How do you know?"
"Because you stopped," Rothmar said. "Because you didn't take them apart once they were helpless."
Kael's breathing slowed despite himself.
"I could have," Kael whispered.
"Yes," Rothmar agreed. "That is the point."
Silence stretched between them again.
Kael sank back down, suddenly drained. "So what happens now?"
Rothmar sat as well. "Now you learn the cost."
Kael looked at him. "Cost?"
Rothmar nodded once. "Close your eyes."
Kael hesitated. Then he obeyed.
"Reach for it," Rothmar said.
Kael swallowed. "I don't know how."
"You do," Rothmar replied. "You just don't want to."
Kael's chest tightened. Slowly, reluctantly, he focused inward—not on mana, not on breath, but on that heavy presence beneath his ribs.
It stirred.
The pressure returned, faint but undeniable, like a distant tide pulling at him.
Kael gasped softly.
"Stop," Rothmar said immediately.
The sensation vanished.
Kael opened his eyes, heart pounding.
"What was that?" he asked.
"That," Rothmar said, "is the price."
Kael frowned. "I didn't do anything."
"Exactly," Rothmar said. "It woke because you acknowledged it."
Kael's stomach sank. "So every time I use it—"
"It notices you more," Rothmar finished. "And you notice it."
Kael stared at the ground. "That's not a cost. That's a curse."
Rothmar did not disagree.
"People like you," Rothmar continued, "were never meant to exist quietly. Your bloodline didn't bend magic. It ignored it. Went around it. Went through it."
Kael looked up sharply. "That's why they feared us."
"Yes."
"And that thing inside me—" Kael hesitated. "It's not separate, is it?"
"No," Rothmar said. "It's you. Stripped of restraint."
Kael felt cold.
"I could lose myself," Kael said.
"Yes," Rothmar replied. "If you rely on it."
Kael shook his head slowly. "Then I won't."
Rothmar studied him. "You say that now."
Kael met his gaze. "Teach me how not to."
Rothmar was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"First rule," Rothmar said. "You do not use it unless you are already dead without it."
Kael nodded.
"Second rule," Rothmar continued. "You never use it out of anger."
Kael swallowed. "And the third?"
Rothmar's eyes hardened. "You never use it to prove something."
Kael exhaled slowly. "That's it?"
Rothmar shook his head. "No. Those are the rules to keep you alive. Not the world."
Kael frowned. "What about the world?"
Rothmar stood and looked out into the darkness. "The world will decide what to do with you whether you like it or not."
Kael followed his gaze. "And you?"
Rothmar glanced back at him. "I am buying you time."
Kael's fingers tightened in the dirt. "Until when?"
"Until you can stand in front of the people who ordered your death," Rothmar said, "and choose what kind of monster you will be to them."
Kael's chest tightened painfully.
"I don't want to be a monster," he said.
Rothmar's voice softened just a fraction. "Then learn control."
Kael nodded.
The night passed slowly after that. Kael drifted in and out of shallow sleep, each dream threaded with pressure and restraint rather than blood. When dawn came, it found him exhausted—but steady.
Rothmar woke him before the sun fully crested the horizon.
"We move at first light," Rothmar said.
Kael sat up, joints aching. "Where to?"
Rothmar looked east, where the land dipped and rose again towards distant civilisation.
"Somewhere loud," Rothmar said. "Somewhere crowded."
Kael frowned. "Why?"
"Because solitude breeds instability," Rothmar replied. "And because the closer we get to the academy, the more dangerous it becomes to remain unseen."
Kael stiffened. "The academy."
Rothmar glanced at him. "You're not ready yet."
Kael nodded slowly.
"But," Rothmar continued, "you will be."
Kael stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder, knife once again secure at his side. As they set off, he felt it again—faint, distant, but present.
Awake.
Waiting.
Kael clenched his jaw and kept walking.
He would not let it decide who he became.