By dawn, the Academy was no longer a sanctuary.
The storm had passed, but the air felt heavier than ever. Students walked in clusters, glancing nervously over their shoulders, whispering behind cupped hands. The funerals had shaken them. The rumors had poisoned them. And now, Alaric could feel their eyes burning into him wherever he went.
Darvin bristled beside him as they crossed the courtyard. "If one more person looks at you like you've sprouted horns, I swear I'll—"
"Darv," Clem cut in gently, though her jaw was tight. "Let it go. They're scared."
Darvin grumbled but fell silent, though his fists stayed clenched at his sides.
Alaric said nothing. He'd grown used to the whispers. Too used to them. What stung wasn't the fear — it was the doubt. He could handle being hated. But being seen as something he wasn't… that gnawed deeper than any wound.
When they reached the library hall, they found Eldrin waiting for them. His silver hair gleamed in the torchlight, his staff held loosely at his side. But his eyes were sharp, troubled.
"Walk with me," the Headmaster said softly.
They followed him through the twisting corridors, past classrooms and lecture halls. The further they went, the quieter it became. Finally, Eldrin stopped in a small council chamber — not the grand hall where meetings were usually held, but a side room, intimate and plain.
Two other professors were already there.
Professor Veyra, her dark robes pristine, her expression unreadable. And Master Kael, standing stiffly near the window, his arms crossed.
Alaric's stomach tightened. He still remembered Kael's scorn during training, the way his voice cut like a blade.
Eldrin gestured for them to sit, but remained standing. His gaze swept the room, measured and calm. "There are matters we must address. Not only whispers among the students, but within the Council itself."
Veyra inclined her head slightly. "The Council is restless, Headmaster. Some believe you are shielding the boy too much. That your faith in him blinds you to the danger he represents."
Alaric flinched, but Eldrin's expression didn't change.
Kael's voice cut in, sharp as steel. "They are right to worry. Every night, more souls are taken. Every night, the Hollow Ones grow bolder. And every night, Alaric is there. Always him." His eyes bored into Alaric's. "Coincidence only stretches so far before it snaps."
Darvin half-rose from his chair, fury in his eyes. "He's not calling them, you snake—"
"Darvin," Clem hissed, pulling him back down.
Eldrin's staff tapped lightly against the floor, silencing the room. "Enough." His gaze shifted to Kael. "I will not hear unfounded accusations in my hall."
Kael's jaw clenched, but he said nothing more.
Veyra's voice was calm, measured. "And yet, the unrest grows. Word of Professor Olk's training has spread. Some claim you are feeding the boy forbidden techniques. Others whisper Olk seeks to shape him into a weapon."
Alaric's chest tightened. "That's not true."
Kael's lips curved in a thin smile. "Isn't it? Tell me, boy, when Olk forced you into the circle, when he demanded you bind the voices — did you succeed?"
Alaric froze. His hands trembled faintly. He thought of the chains. Of the shadows kneeling, not vanishing. Of the thrill that had almost felt like victory.
Clem spoke quickly, her voice sharp. "He's learning control. That's all."
Darvin nodded fiercely. "And he's doing better than anyone else could, considering the mess you lot left him with."
Kael's smile faded, his eyes narrowing.
Eldrin exhaled slowly, leaning heavier on his staff. "Enough of this. Alaric is not the threat. The Hollow Ones are. And if Olk's methods can help him stand against them, then I will support them."
"But the Council may not," Veyra said quietly.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Eldrin's gaze swept the room, steady and unyielding. "Then I will remind the Council that fear is not wisdom, and doubt is not truth. Alaric stays here. He trains. He learns. And he will not face this darkness alone."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Kael turned, his cloak swirling behind him as he moved toward the door. "You gamble with more than one life, Eldrin. When the storm breaks, we will all pay the price."
The door shut hard behind him.
Alaric stared at the floor, his chest heavy. The chains rattled faintly in the back of his mind, the echo of Eryndor's laugh curling through his thoughts.
Veyra's gaze lingered on him for a moment — calm, unreadable — before she too departed.
When only Eldrin and the trio remained, the headmaster's shoulders sagged, the weight of his years showing. He lowered himself into a chair, resting both hands on his staff.
"My boy," he said softly, meeting Alaric's eyes. "The storm is not only outside. It is here, within these walls. And you must hold fast, even as others falter."
Alaric nodded slowly. But inside, doubt twisted like a blade.