The courtyard of the House of Echoes shimmered under twilight's fractured sky. Fragments of colors that did not belong together bled into one another, painting the horizon with hues of forgotten dreams. The new world was still unstable—a mirror of its creators' choices.
Kael stood before Nyra in the open air. The students gathered at a distance, whispering in awe and fear. Lyra watched silently from the archway, her bow unstrung but her guard unbroken.
"You want freedom," Kael said at last. "Then you'll learn what it means to live with it."
Nyra tilted her head, her black eyes wide, almost childlike. Shadows rippled around her like restless water, always moving, never still.
"Teach me," she said. The words were not a plea. They were a promise.
Kael raised a hand. "First rule: Power does not define you. Choice does. And choice begins with restraint."
Nyra blinked slowly. "Restraint…" Her voice stretched the word as if tasting it. Then, without warning, a shadow darted from her and snapped a tree in half like a dry twig.
Gasps rippled through the students.
Kael didn't flinch. "That," he said calmly, "is what you don't do."
Nyra's lips curved in a faint smile. "Why not? The tree was in my way."
"Because freedom without restraint isn't freedom—it's chaos," Kael replied. His voice hardened. "And chaos will destroy the very choice you claim to want."
The shadows paused, curling back toward her feet like chastised beasts. For the first time, Kael saw something flicker in Nyra's expression—a crack in her perfect composure. Doubt? Curiosity? Both?
"Lesson one," Kael continued, stepping closer until his presence pushed against hers. "If you can't master yourself, you can't master the world."
Nyra stared at him in silence, then whispered,
> "And if I fail?"
Kael's eyes glowed with quiet certainty.
"Then the Abyss becomes what it was always meant to be—a grave for every possibility."
Lyra moved forward, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "This is dangerous, Kael. She's not a student. She's a weapon waiting for a target."
"She's more than that," Kael said. His gaze never left Nyra. "She's the reflection of every shadow we left behind when we broke the Loom. If we don't teach her, the world pays the price."
Nyra smiled faintly.
"Then teach me, God of Broken Threads."
The title slid off her tongue like temptation.
Kael didn't correct her. He simply turned and said,
"Tomorrow, we begin."
As the students dispersed under Lyra's watchful eye, Kael lingered in the courtyard, staring at the stars above—the stars that no longer told futures.
He had wanted freedom for all.
But now, he wondered… what happens when the Abyss learns to dream?
Far beyond the horizon, the shadows quivered—not in rage, but in anticipation.
And the world, still young in its unwritten law, prepared for the choice that could birth salvation… or unmaking.