The cold sting of metal faded as Kael's hand left the training spear. His pulse still thundered from the spar, every muscle strung tight. Across from him, Ryn's smug smirk lingered, but it didn't matter—Kael had seen it. The momentary flash of surprise when Kael's last strike had grazed his guard.
That was enough to know he was closing the gap.
"You're improving," Ryn said, tilting his head like he was appraising a stubborn dog that had learned a new trick. "But you're still too slow to survive an actual star trial."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Then I'll get faster."
Ryn's chuckle was low, but his eyes sharpened. "You better. Because tomorrow night, you'll be facing something far worse than me."
Before Kael could ask, the air in the arena rippled—like the surface of a disturbed pond. From the distortion stepped Elder Veyra, her robes flowing as though moved by some unseen tide. Her gaze cut through both men without effort.
"Kael Saran," she said, voice like cool steel. "You will come with me. The Council has requested your presence."
Kael's stomach tightened. Council summons weren't casual affairs.
He followed her through the narrow stone corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off walls engraved with celestial runes. They stopped before a circular chamber, its domed ceiling depicting constellations in shifting silver light. Around the table sat seven robed figures—leaders of the sect's inner order.
One of them, a broad-shouldered man with eyes like smoldering coals, spoke first. "You are the boy who carries… the seed."
Kael's breath caught. "You know about it?"
"Know?" The man's mouth curved in something between a smile and a threat. "We've been waiting for it to awaken for a century."
The room's air thickened, like the walls themselves were leaning in to listen. Elder Veyra's voice slid in, calm but laced with weight. "There is a fissure in the Astral Veil. It widens by the hour. What lurks beyond will not wait for you to be ready."
A faint vibration stirred in Kael's chest—the seed. Its whisper wasn't words, but an urgent pull, a thrumming that resonated with the starlit ceiling above. For a moment, he felt it: a vast ocean of light, stretching into forever, and something dark moving within it.
One of the elders leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You will undergo the Celestial Convergence tomorrow night. If you fail, the seed will be… reclaimed."
Kael didn't have to ask what "reclaimed" meant.
The meeting dissolved as abruptly as it began. Elder Veyra guided him out, her expression unreadable. "Do not let them see fear," she murmured. "They already wonder if they should have destroyed you instead."
That night, Kael lay on his narrow cot, staring at the ceiling. The seed's pulse was stronger now, syncing with his heartbeat. His mind replayed the elder's words—*a century of waiting*. He wasn't ready. Not even close.
But the seed… it felt like it had been ready all along.
In the corner of the dormitory, the shadows stirred. From them emerged a figure draped in a hood of starcloth, their voice a whisper of wind through the void.
"If you want to survive tomorrow, Kael Saran," they said, "you'll have to disobey every rule this sect has ever taught you."