The Academy had never felt so tense. Even the stone corridors seemed to groan under the weight of secrets. Students hurried in whispers, instructors prowled the halls with stern faces, and the torches burned low as though they too feared to cast light.
Alaric sat alone in the courtyard beneath a pale crescent moon, the amber stone burning faintly in his hand. Every pulse of its glow felt like a second heartbeat, alien yet inseparable from his own. Since Rudra's presence had awakened within him, the world felt sharper, heavier — like a bowstring drawn too tight.
"You walk between gods and shadows," Rudra's voice rumbled inside his mind, deep and commanding. "But indecision is a chain heavier than either. I can unbind you, if you let me."
Alaric clenched his jaw. "And if I don't?" he whispered under his breath.
"Then both sides will tear you apart. And you will die unloved, unchosen, forgotten."
The words stung.
"Talking to yourself again?"
Alaric flinched at the voice. Clem stepped out from the shadows, her boots soft against the stone, carrying two steaming cups. She handed one to him, then lowered herself onto the bench beside him.
"You should sleep," she said. "You look worse than when Darian tried to fight five dueling golems at once."
Despite himself, Alaric smirked faintly. "I'll be fine."
Her eyes lingered on him, too sharp to be fooled. "No. You won't. Not if you keep bottling this inside."
Alaric looked away, watching the torchlight flicker along the courtyard walls. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Clem sipped her tea, unflinching. "Try me."
For a long time, he was silent. The stone pulsed in his palm, and Rudra's presence pressed against his thoughts. Revealing him was dangerous — too dangerous. But Clem had already stood by him when everyone else recoiled. She deserved the truth.
"His name is Rudra," Alaric said finally, his voice low. "He's… inside the stone. Inside me. Not like the Hollow Ones, not like Eryndor. Different. Disciplined. But dangerous all the same."
Clem set her cup down slowly. "And no one else knows?"
Alaric shook his head. "No one can. If the Council discovered him… they'd bind me. Maybe worse. The gods would see me as defiant. The Hollow Ones would see me as theirs."
"Then it stays between us," Clem said firmly. Her voice didn't waver. "No Kael. No Darian. Not even your grandfather. Just you, me, and Rudra."
The stone flared, as if in approval. Rudra's voice coiled through Alaric's mind again. "She is wise. Secrets are chains, but they can also be shields. Trust her, but trust no one else."
Alaric pressed a hand to his temple. "He doesn't want anyone to know. Says he can help me balance the eclipse — but only if I keep him hidden."
Clem's gaze softened. "Do you believe him?"
Alaric hesitated. "I don't know. But I believe this: if the wrong people find out about Rudra, I'll never get the chance to decide."
They sat in silence for a moment, the night pressing in around them. The courtyard was vast and empty, but it felt as though unseen eyes lingered in every shadow.
Clem leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Alaric… do you ever wonder what you'd be like without all this? No eclipse powers. No Hollow Ones. No Rudra."
He let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. All the time. I'd be a boy who could make friends without scaring them. A boy who could laugh without wondering if shadows would answer."
Her expression softened, and she nudged his shoulder lightly. "You're still that boy, Alaric. You just don't see it yet."
His chest tightened at her words — not from fear this time, but from the fragile, unfamiliar warmth of trust.
But before he could answer, the stone in his palm flared violently. His vision blurred, and for a moment he wasn't in the courtyard at all.
He saw the Council chambers, firelight casting grim faces into shadow. The masters argued, voices sharp, debating a "fracture" in the veil between realms. Spells flared on parchment, maps marked with runes. They were searching — probing for the source.
And though they didn't know his name, Alaric understood the truth instantly: they were searching for Rudra.
The vision snapped away. He gasped, clutching the stone.
Clem caught his arm. "What did you see?"
"They're close," he whispered. "They're looking for the source. For him. If they find Rudra, they'll come for me."
Her grip on his arm tightened. "Then they won't find him. They won't find you. Not while I'm here."
Before Alaric could respond, a faint crunch echoed in the distance. Both their heads snapped up. Beyond the courtyard, near the archway, a shadow shifted — someone watching.
Alaric rose to his feet, his stone glowing faintly, but when he stepped forward, the presence vanished into the dark. Only the whisper of fading footsteps lingered.
"Someone was here," Clem murmured, eyes narrowing.
Alaric's pulse thundered. If someone had overheard even a fragment of their conversation, the secret was already in danger.
Rudra's voice cut through his panic, sharp and commanding: "Do not falter. Fear is the enemy's ally. Protect the secret — or you will lose everything."
Alaric swallowed hard. Clem stepped beside him, her dagger ready, her eyes fierce.
"We keep Rudra hidden," she said again, firmer than before. "No matter who's listening. No matter what it takes."
The torches hissed in the night wind. Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, whispers moved through the Academy — whispers of suspicion, of watching eyes.
But here, in the fragile circle of trust between them, Alaric and Clem sealed a vow.
The world could rage. Gods and hollows could demand his soul. The Council could hunt for secrets in the dark.
But Rudra belonged to them — and them alone.