They returned to the citadel beneath an iron sky.
Rain hadn't come yet, but the clouds pressed down, thick and low, the kind that carried storms not just in water—but in omen.
Kael stepped through the archway of the Outer Wall and felt something tug inside him. Not physically. Not even with magic. But like a thread had gone taut in his chest, and something at the heart of the compound had noticed him.
And wasn't pleased.
The Whisperer in gray—still masked—wordlessly led Kael down the western stairs and through corridors few initiates ever walked. These were not classrooms or training yards. These were older paths, slick with condensation and etched in runes that pulsed faintly beneath the stone.
Kael's boots rang louder than the silence.
The others—Ferin and Malric—had already been separated. He hadn't seen either of them since crossing the gate.
The Whisperer stopped before a sealed door, laid one pale hand across its frame, and whispered something Kael didn't catch.
It opened with a sound like breath drawn through teeth.
Inside: a circular chamber.
Lit from above by Veil-lamps suspended in chains. At the room's center, six sigil stones were embedded in a ring—ancient monoliths of black crystal, each etched with a unique rune. They pulsed faintly. They hummed with... pressure.
Kael recognized one of the symbols. He'd seen it in his dream. Carved in the altar stone. Burned into the mirror shard.
The door shut behind him.
The Whisperer's voice came low. "Stand at the center."
Kael hesitated—but stepped forward. The instant his boot crossed the inner ring, the sigil stones flared.
A whip of heat surged down his spine.
Every hair on his arms stood upright. His skin crawled. The very air between the monoliths shimmered with resistance. Tenebris stirred inside him like a sleeping beast nudged too hard.
No.
Turn away.
Not this place. Not the old prison.
Kael gasped. The voice wasn't his own. It wasn't even thought. It was reaction—instinct from something deeper than mind.
"Do you feel the pull?" the Whisperer asked, still behind the door.
"It's not a pull," Kael said. "It's... pain."
"Good," came the answer. "Then you're still resisting. That means you're not lost."
Kael turned slowly. "What is this room?"
"Veilbound orientation. The stones are tuned to reaction. Blood. Legacy. Memory. If you were one of the Echoed, or a Gloamkin-touched, they'd hum. If you were from the old bloodlines—Veilforged or fractured—they'd resist. If you were neither, they'd do nothing."
Kael looked again at the sigils. The runes were pulsing harder now—heat radiating in waves. He could feel his breath shortening. Tenebris surged like ice down his veins.
"What are they doing now?" Kael asked.
The Whisperer didn't answer.
Because they didn't need to.
Kael already knew.
They weren't resisting him.
They were warning the others.
He stumbled out of the chamber twenty minutes later, clothes drenched, skin clammy. The Whisperer had vanished. No dismissal. No report. Just the hush of the hall and the oppressive throb still curling in his bones.
The mirror shard in his pocket burned faintly.
He had no orders now. No directions. No audience.
Just questions.
And one overwhelming sense:
He was being watched.
The dining hall was half-empty by midday. Kael sat alone near the east windows, untouched bread on his tray, soup cooling. Around him, conversation flowed—but it never reached him. He heard snippets. Names. Assignments. Rumors.
One name never spoken: Eline.
He'd seen her—once—on the upper balcony during morning spar. Briefly. A glimpse between two pillars. She hadn't been in any of the sessions since.
And she hadn't sent word.
He told himself it was part of the assignment structure. Rotations. Surveillance duties.
But part of him—the part shaped like silence—knew better.
She was avoiding him.
That night, he climbed again to the rooftop above the south tower.
The sky was heavy with cloud but gave no rain. Only wind.
He sat on the stone ledge and turned the mirror shard in his hands. The crescent symbol was clearer now—almost glowing faintly in the dark. The shard had taken on a darker tint, like smoke trapped inside.
He could feel something in it.
Not memory. Not dream.
More like... expectation.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the whisper came.
Not Tenebris.
Something else.
"You shouldn't be here."
Kael's eyes snapped open.
Eline stood across from him, hair tied back, cloak drawn up against the wind. Her expression was unreadable—but her eyes…
They were tired. More than that—haunted.
"You've been avoiding me," Kael said quietly.
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she stepped closer. Her boots didn't make a sound on the stone. The wind caught her cloak like wings.
"You touched something on that mission, didn't you?"
"Yes," he said. "It spoke to me."
Her shoulders tensed.
"And it called you what?"
"Veilblood."
She looked away, jaw tight.
"You know what that means."
"I know it used to mean something," Kael said. "Now it's treated like a curse."
"Because it is." Her voice cracked like frost underfoot. "Do you think the Gloamkin are born broken? That they just… appear? They're fragments, Kael. From bindings gone wrong. From children no one could anchor."
He stood now too, heart pounding.
"I didn't ask for this."
"No. But it's in you. And you're not hiding it anymore."
She stepped forward, close enough that he could see the small scar under her eye, the one she'd gotten during the Vault Collapse when they were both still recruits.
"You're being watched," she whispered. "Not by the instructors. Not just by Whitmer. But by the Council Whisperers. They think you're changing."
"I am changing."
She didn't argue.
She only said, "Then you need to pretend you're not. Until you understand it better than they do."
Her hand brushed his—the faintest contact. Not warmth. Not forgiveness.
But warning.
"Or they'll seal you. Like the others."
She turned. Walked to the edge of the rooftop.
Paused.
"I'll be assigned to the Eastern Watch for a few days," she said without looking back. "Don't follow. Don't ask."
And then she was gone.
Swallowed by shadow.
Kael stood there a long time, the wind whispering past him.
He looked down at the shard.
The crescent had faded again. But now it felt heavier. As if it had heard every word.
Tenebris stirred in his chest.
Not alarmed.
Not angry.
But... ready.
For what, Kael still didn't know.
But he knew this:
They were out of time.