The door hissed shut, leaving Kaelen alone in the training chamber. The silence was profound, broken only by the low hum of the Citadel's energy and the frantic beating of his own heart. Centuries. The word echoed in his mind, a concept as vast and terrifying as the Veil itself. He looked at his hands, half-expecting to see the extra years already etched into his skin.
He practiced for what felt like hours, long after Valeria left. He formed the dark shard, let it dissolve, formed it again. He tried to shape the shield, his brow furrowed in concentration. The disc of darkness flickered, its edges wavering like a heat mirage before solidifying. Each success was a small victory, each failure a lesson. The Umbral energy was no longer a wild, desperate reaction. It was becoming a tool. His tool.
A soft chime echoed through the room, making him jump. The shard in his hand dissolved into mist. "Initiate Kaelen,"a neutral, automated voice spoke from nowhere. "Your meal has been delivered to your quarters."
He hadn't even realized he was hungry again, the focus of training having overridden his body's needs. He left the training room, the door sliding shut behind him, and made his way back to his small room.
A metal tray sat on his desk. On it was a bowl of thick stew, a hunk of brown bread, and a cup of water. It was simple, but it was hot, real food. More than he'd ever had at one time in his life. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, the flavors overwhelming his starved senses.
As he finished the last of the bread, his eyes fell on a small, folded piece of high-quality paper that had been hidden underneath the tray. He hadn't noticed it before.
Frowning, he picked it up. It was smooth and cream-colored, unlike the rough scrap paper he was used to. There was no name on the outside. He unfolded it.
The message inside was written in an elegant, flowing script:
*Welcome to Havenfall, Kaelen. A rare flower blooms in unexpected soil. Your unique… potential has not gone unnoticed.
The Commander sees a weapon. I see a key. The path ahead is fraught with thorns. Not all guidance offered will lead to sunlight.
Should you seek a perspective less… rigid than that of the military, leave this note on your windowsill.
- A Friend in the Shadows
Kaelen's blood ran cold. He dropped the note as if it had burned him. His eyes darted around the small, empty room. He was being watched. How? By who? Valeria's soldiers? Someone else?
The message was a poison wrapped in silk. It praised him while warning him about the very person who had given him shelter. A key. The same word Valeria had used. 'I see a key.' But this 'friend' used it differently.
His first instinct was to run to Valeria and show her. But something held him back. The writer knew he was here. Knew his name. Knew his Aspect. If they could get a message into his locked room in the heart of the Citadel, they were powerful. Handing the note to Valeria might not make him safe. It might make him a target.
He reread the last line. 'Leave this note on your windowsill.' A test. A way to signal his interest without a word.
Fear warred with a desperate curiosity. Valeria had given him safety, but she had been clear: he was an asset. A weapon to be trained. This 'friend' offered something else: a different path. A warning.
With a trembling hand, he picked the note up again. He walked to the window, looking out over the glittering, dangerous city. He thought of centuries stretching out before him. He thought of the Anchor, pulling monsters to him every single day of that long life.
He needed more than one ally. He needed to understand the web he was trapped in.
Making a decision that terrified him, he placed the smooth, cream-colored paper on the windowsill. He weighted it down with his empty water cup so it wouldn't blow away.
Then he stepped back into the shadows of his room, his heart pounding, waiting to see what his silent reply would summon.