The void between worlds tastes like copper and forgotten dreams.
Whoooosh... The dimensional rift sealed behind him with the finality of a coffin lid closing. Kael Voidheart—though that wasn't the name he'd been born with—stood on the precipice of nothingness, watching the last traces of his journey dissolve into the endless gray expanse that existed between realities.
His chest felt hollow, not from the thin air of the interdimensional space, but from the weight of carrying the echoes of an entire world within his sixteen-year-old frame. Every breath was a reminder that he was breathing while millions of others would never draw air again. The survivor's guilt sat in his stomach like a lead weight, cold and unforgiving.
"Haaah..." The sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it, visible in the perpetual twilight of the Nexus as a small cloud that sparkled with dying starlight before fading away. Just like everything else he'd ever loved.
Before him loomed the Void Academy, a structure so massive and impossible that his human mind struggled to process its entirety. Seven obsidian spires twisted upward like the fingers of a skeletal hand, each one crackling with veins of pure void energy that pulsed in rhythm with his own heartbeat. The bridges connecting them weren't made of stone or metal, but of crystallized space itself—hardened emptiness that somehow held form and purpose.
*Crack* *Snap* The admission letter in his hand crumpled slightly as his fingers tightened involuntarily. The parchment was made from pressed void silk, a material that existed only in the spaces between dimensions, and the words written upon it seemed to shift and change when he wasn't looking directly at them.
"Kael of the Lost Realm Aethros," it read in flowing script that hurt to look at for too long, "You have been accepted to the Void Academy for Interdimensional Studies. Term begins at the thirteenth hour of the Nexus cycle. Bring only what you cannot bear to lose, for you may lose everything else."
The last line had been added in different handwriting—sharper, more angular, as if carved by someone who understood that words could cut as deeply as any blade.
Kael's hand trembled slightly as he folded the letter and tucked it into the inner pocket of his travel coat. The coat was one of only three possessions he'd managed to salvage from Aethros before the dimension collapsed in on itself. The other two were a silver pendant that had belonged to his sister—don't think about Lyra, not now, not ever—and a shard of crystallized memory that contained the final moments of his world.
The memory shard pulsed against his ribs where he kept it hidden, a constant reminder of the screaming. Always the screaming.
"Mmm..." He hummed tunelessly under his breath, a habit he'd developed to drown out the whispers that followed him wherever he went. The voices of the dead had a way of carrying across dimensional boundaries, and they were particularly loud here in the Nexus, where reality was thin and malleable.
A movement caught his eye—other students approaching the academy from different directions, each emerging from their own dimensional portals with the distinctive *pop* of collapsing space. He watched them with a mixture of curiosity and dread, noting how they moved with confidence, how they laughed and called to friends, how they seemed to belong in a way he was certain he never would.
A girl with silver hair that seemed to contain actual starlight was floating—actually floating—toward the main spire, surrounded by a group of admirers who hung on her every word. Her laughter rang like crystal bells across the void: "Ahaha! Oh, Marcus, you're so funny! Did you really think Professor Nightbane would accept that essay on 'Practical Applications of Decorative Void Magic?'"
The boy she was addressing—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of confident posture that spoke of military training—threw back his head and laughed. "*Boom*" His voice carried the deep resonance of someone whose magic was tied to stability and strength. "Well, Luna, I figured if I was going to fail anyway, I might as well fail creatively!"
Something twisted in Kael's chest as he watched their easy camaraderie. When was the last time he'd laughed like that? Before the Convergence War, certainly. Before he'd learned that entire civilizations could be erased with the right application of void magic. Before he'd discovered that sometimes the only way to save anything was to destroy everything.
He started walking toward the academy's main entrance, his footsteps eerily silent on the path of compressed void energy. The closer he got to the massive structure, the more he could feel its power pressing against his consciousness. It was like standing in the shadow of a sleeping god—awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.
*Whisper whisper whisper*
The voices were getting stronger. He could almost make out individual words now, fragments of conversations from a world that no longer existed: "...told you to stay inside during the evacuation..." "...mama, I'm scared..." "...the void, it's spreading too fast, we can't..."
"Shut up," he whispered through gritted teeth, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. "Just... shut up. Please."
But the voices never listened. They never had.
The main entrance to the academy was an archway carved from a single piece of void crystal, its surface reflecting not light but possibilities—thousands of potential futures flickering across its faceted surface like trapped lightning. Students were passing through in small groups, their voices creating a constant buzz of excitement and nervousness.
As Kael approached the threshold, a strange sensation washed over him. The void crystal began to resonate, its deep purple hue shifting to an ominous black that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. *Hummmmm* The vibration was felt rather than heard, thrumming through his bones and making his teeth ache.
Other students stopped and stared as the archway's reaction to his presence became impossible to ignore. The cheerful chatter died away, replaced by uncertain murmurs and the sound of footsteps backing away from him.
"What's happening to the gate?" someone whispered.
"I've never seen it do that before..."
"Who is that kid?"
Heat crept up Kael's neck and into his cheeks. This was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid—drawing attention, making a scene, reminding everyone that he was different. That he was dangerous. That he carried within him the power to unmake things in ways that violated the natural order.
He quickened his pace, hoping to pass through the archway quickly and escape the stares. But as soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the void crystal erupted in a cascade of black lightning. *CRACK-BOOM!* The sound was like reality itself splitting at the seams.
For a moment that lasted eternity, Kael felt himself suspended between existence and oblivion. He could see through the crystal, through the academy, through the very fabric of the Nexus itself. He saw the threads that connected all things, the delicate web of cause and effect that held the multiverse together. And he saw how easy it would be to cut those threads, to let everything unravel into the same nothingness that had claimed his home.
The vision ended as abruptly as it had begun. *Thud* He stumbled forward, catching himself against the far side of the archway as the crystal's glow faded back to its normal purple. The whispers in his head had gone silent—a mercy he hadn't experienced in months.
"Impressive."
The voice was warm honey over sharp steel, cultured and ancient in a way that suggested its owner had seen the rise and fall of civilizations. Kael looked up to find himself face-to-face with a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties but whose eyes held the weight of centuries.
Professor Elara Voidwhisper stood before him in robes that seemed to be cut from the night sky itself, complete with slowly swirling galaxies and the occasional shooting star. Her silver hair was bound in an intricate braid that defied several laws of physics, and her smile was both welcoming and predatory.
"Most students barely manage to make the crystal glow on their first pass," she continued, circling him slowly like a cat studying a particularly interesting mouse. "You, however, have managed to give it a complete diagnostic reading of your magical signature. Fascinating."
Kael's mouth went dry. He'd spent months learning to suppress his power, to keep it locked away where it couldn't hurt anyone. The idea that he'd just broadcast his abilities to anyone with the knowledge to interpret void crystal reactions made his skin crawl with anxiety.
"I... I'm sorry," he managed, his voice coming out as barely more than a croak. "I didn't mean to—"
"Oh, my dear boy," Professor Voidwhisper interrupted, her laugh like silver bells in a winter storm. "There's no need to apologize for being extraordinary. Though I suspect you've spent quite a lot of time doing exactly that, haven't you?"
Her words hit uncomfortably close to home. Kael had indeed spent most of his life apologizing—for being different, for asking too many questions, for surviving when others hadn't. The habit was so ingrained that he almost apologized for apologizing.
"Come," she said, gesturing for him to follow her deeper into the academy. "Let's get you sorted into your dormitory. I have a feeling you're going to find your time here quite... educational."
As they walked through corridors lined with portraits of former students who had graduated to become interdimensional explorers, void knights, and reality architects, Professor Voidwhisper kept up a steady stream of commentary about the academy's history and traditions. But Kael found his attention drifting to the other students they passed.
A group of third-years were practicing probability manipulation in an alcove, their laughter turning to surprised yelps as their spell went awry and filled the air with purple butterflies that tasted like Tuesday. "*Poof* *flutter flutter*" The butterflies dispersed after a few seconds, leaving behind only the lingering scent of temporal displacement.
In another area, a pair of students were engaged in what appeared to be a friendly duel, their void magic manifesting as ribbons of crystallized space that clashed together with sounds like breaking glass. "*Ting* *Crash* *Tinkle*" Every impact sent small fractures racing through the air itself before reality reasserted itself and healed the damage.
Watching them, Kael felt the familiar pang of longing mixed with fear. He wanted to belong here, to find friends and perhaps even something resembling happiness. But he also knew that his power was different from theirs in fundamental ways. Where their magic created and shaped, his had the potential to simply... end things. To make them never have existed at all.
They climbed a spiral staircase that seemed to exist in several dimensions simultaneously, each step taking them not just higher but somehow deeper into the heart of the academy's power. The walls here were lined with crystals that pulsed in rhythm with the local reality's heartbeat, and the air hummed with barely contained magical energy.
"Tell me, Kael," Professor Voidwhisper said as they climbed, not even slightly out of breath despite the fact that they'd ascended at least fifty floors in the past few minutes, "what do you know about the nature of void magic?"
Kael considered the question carefully. His education in void theory had been... unconventional, learned as much through desperate necessity as formal instruction. "It's the magic of spaces between things," he said slowly. "The power that exists in the gaps between dimensions, between thoughts, between heartbeats. Most void magic works by manipulating those spaces—expanding them, contracting them, redirecting the connections between things."
"A textbook answer," she acknowledged with a nod. "But incomplete. What most students don't learn until their final year is that void magic isn't really about the spaces between things. It's about the connections themselves. The threads that bind reality together."
She stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression growing serious. "And some void magic is about cutting those threads entirely."
The words sent a chill down Kael's spine because they described exactly what his power could do. He'd never told anyone about the full extent of his abilities—how he could not just manipulate the void but actually sever things from existence itself. The memory shard pressed against his ribs, reminding him of the price such power demanded.
They reached a landing marked with the symbol of a seventh-year dormitory—a stylized eye surrounded by seven stars. Professor Voidwhisper led him down a hallway lined with doors, each one inscribed with the names and magical signatures of its occupants.
"Ah, here we are," she said, stopping before a door near the end of the hall. The nameplate read "Marcus Ironwill & Kael Voidheart" in the flowing script that all academy documents seemed to favor. "Marcus is a good boy—fourth year, specializes in reality anchoring. His power should help stabilize any... fluctuations... in your own magic while you're learning to control it."
The implication was clear: they'd paired him with someone whose abilities could contain him if his power got out of hand. Kael wasn't sure whether to be grateful or offended.
*Knock knock knock*
"Marcus? I've brought your new roommate."
The door opened to reveal the same tall, broad-shouldered boy Kael had seen earlier with the silver-haired girl. Up close, Marcus Ironwill looked even more intimidating—not in a threatening way, but in the manner of someone who'd been trained from birth to be a protector. His dark hair was cut in a military style, and his brown eyes held the kind of steady confidence that came from knowing exactly who you were and what you were capable of.
"Professor Voidwhisper," he said with a respectful nod before turning his attention to Kael. "And you must be my new roommate. Welcome to the Void Academy."
He extended a hand for Kael to shake, and when their palms met, Kael felt something he hadn't experienced in months: stability. Marcus's reality-anchoring ability created a bubble of calm around them, dampening the constant whispers and making the world feel more solid, more real.
For a moment, Kael felt like he could breathe properly for the first time since arriving at the academy. The weight of carrying his destroyed world's echoes didn't disappear, but it became manageable. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes—not from sadness, but from relief so profound it was almost painful.
"Thank you," he whispered, not sure if he was addressing Marcus or some higher power that had finally shown him mercy.
Marcus's expression softened, and Kael realized that his emotional state must have been written clearly across his face. "Hey, it's okay. The first day is always overwhelming. Why don't you come in and get settled? I can show you around the dormitory."
Professor Voidwhisper watched this exchange with interest, her ancient eyes missing nothing. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted. Kael, classes begin tomorrow at the sixth hour. Don't worry about finding your way—the academy has a way of ensuring students end up where they need to be."
With that cryptic statement, she glided away down the hallway, her star-filled robes trailing behind her like a piece of the night sky that had decided to go for a walk.
The dormitory room was larger than Kael had expected, with two beds, two desks, and a shared sitting area that looked out through a window into the swirling energies of the Nexus. Marcus's side of the room was neat and organized, with military precision evident in everything from the way his books were arranged to the perfect corners on his bedsheets.
"Sorry about the mess," Marcus said, though Kael couldn't see any mess anywhere. "I wasn't expecting a roommate this late in the term. Most students arrive at the beginning of the academic year."
Kael set his single bag down on the unoccupied bed and looked around. The room felt safe in a way he hadn't experienced since before the war. Marcus's anchoring ability created a constant field of stability that kept his power from fluctuating wildly.
"I'm not exactly a traditional student," he admitted. "My circumstances are... complicated."
Marcus nodded as if he understood completely. "Most of us here have complicated circumstances. That's why we ended up at an interdimensional academy instead of somewhere normal. Want to tell me about it, or would you prefer to keep it private for now?"
The question was asked with such genuine kindness that Kael felt his carefully constructed emotional walls begin to crack. He'd spent so long being alone with his grief and guilt that the simple offer of someone to talk to was almost overwhelming.
"Maybe... maybe later," he said quietly. "It's not exactly a cheerful story."
"The best stories rarely are," Marcus replied with a wisdom that seemed older than his eighteen years. "But they're still worth telling when you're ready."
As Kael began unpacking his few belongings, he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he might finally find a place where he belonged. The whispers of his dead world were still there, would always be there, but for the first time since the destruction of Aethros, they seemed... manageable.
Outside the window, the Void Academy continued its eternal dance through the spaces between realities, carrying within its walls the hopes and dreams of students from across the multiverse. And somewhere in the depths of the ancient structure, powers older than civilization stirred in their sleep, sensing the arrival of someone who might finally be capable of wielding the most dangerous magic of all.
The magic of endings.
*Whoooosh...* The wind between worlds whispered past their window, carrying with it the promise of adventures yet to come, friendships to be forged, and a destiny that would either save the multiverse or destroy it entirely.
Kael Voidheart, the last echo of a dead dimension, had finally come home.
But deep in his heart, in the place where hope and despair wrestled for dominance, he couldn't shake the feeling that his arrival at the Void Academy was not a beginning, but rather the first note in a symphony of endings that would reshape everything he had ever known about the nature of existence itself.
Professor Voidwhisper led him through corridors that defied architectural logic, where staircases spiraled up to nowhere and doors opened onto rooms that were bigger inside than the walls that contained them. Other students passed them in the halls—some barely acknowledging their presence, others staring with the kind of morbid curiosity reserved for watching someone walk to their execution.
Each stare felt like a weight added to his shoulders. These people—his supposed peers—looked at him and saw nothing but the power he carried, the danger he represented. They didn't see the boy who used to build clockwork birds with his sister, or the child who had cried when he accidentally stepped on a flower. They saw only the void that walked among them wearing a human face.
"The students can sense it, you know," Professor Voidwhisper said conversationally, as if reading his thoughts. "Your connection to the Absolute Void. It makes them... uncomfortable. Humans are naturally drawn to stability, to things they can understand and categorize. You, my dear boy, are neither stable nor easily understood."
"Thanks," Kael muttered. "Really boosting my confidence here." But there was no real bite in his words—he'd grown used to being the outsider, the one who didn't quite fit.
The Professor chuckled, a sound like silver bells being rung in a cathedral. "Sarcasm. Good. You'll need that sense of humor to survive what's coming."
Before Kael could ask what she meant by that cryptic statement, they arrived at what looked like a perfectly ordinary door set into a perfectly ordinary wall. The only thing that marked it as special was the faint purple glow emanating from around its edges.
The implication stung, though Kael couldn't deny its necessity. He was a walking weapon whose safety was permanently set to 'off.' The academy wasn't just giving him a roommate—they were giving him a handler, someone whose job it would be to keep him from accidentally erasing half the student body from existence.
*Knock knock*
The door swung open to reveal the tall, broad-shouldered boy Kael had seen earlier. Up close, Marcus Ironwill looked even more like the poster child for interdimensional heroism—square jaw, honest brown eyes, and the kind of confident posture that suggested he'd never encountered a problem he couldn't solve with the right combination of determination and punching.
"Professor Voidwhisper," Marcus said with a respectful nod before turning his attention to Kael. "And you must be my new roommate. Welcome to the Void Academy."
When Marcus extended his hand for a shake, Kael hesitated. Physical contact had become dangerous for him—his power had a tendency to lash out when he was nervous or emotional, and meeting new people definitely qualified as both.
But Marcus waited patiently, his expression understanding rather than impatient, and eventually Kael reached out to grasp the offered hand.
*Click*
The moment their palms touched, Kael felt something he hadn't experienced in months: silence. Complete, blessed silence. The constant whispers of the dead, the echoing screams from his destroyed world, the persistent thrum of void energy that usually made his head feel like it was splitting—all of it just... stopped.
For a moment, Kael forgot to breathe. The relief was so profound it was almost painful, like stepping into sunlight after months in a cave. His knees went weak, and he had to grab onto the doorframe to keep from collapsing.
"Whoa, easy there," Marcus said, steadying him with a gentle hand on his elbow. "Reality anchoring can be a bit overwhelming the first time you experience it. Your system isn't used to functioning without constant dimensional interference."
"How... how did you know?" Kael whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion he was trying desperately to suppress.
Marcus's expression softened. "My father fought in the Dimensional Wars. I've seen what prolonged exposure to void energy does to people. The constant noise, the feeling like you're coming apart at the seams, the way reality starts to feel... flexible... around you."
Something in Marcus's tone suggested he wasn't just speaking from secondhand knowledge. There was a haunted quality to his eyes that spoke of personal experience with loss, with the weight of carrying powers that could hurt as easily as they could help.
Professor Voidwhisper watched this exchange with the calculating gaze of someone who was filing away every detail for future reference. "I'll leave you boys to get acquainted," she said finally. "Classes begin tomorrow at the seventh hour. Try not to destroy anything before then."
With that cheerful warning, she glided away down the corridor, her star-speckled robes billowing dramatically behind her.
Marcus waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Kael. "Come on in. I'll show you around our palatial accommodations."
The dormitory room was larger than Kael had expected, with two beds, two desks, and a window that looked out onto something that might charitably be called a view if you ignored the fact that it showed three different dimensions simultaneously. Books and magical implements were scattered across Marcus's side of the room in organized chaos, while Kael's side remained bare except for his single traveling bag.
"So," Marcus said, settling into the chair at his desk and gesturing for Kael to take the other one, "Absolute Void affinity, huh? That's... wow. I've never actually met anyone with that particular gift before."
"Gift?" Kael let out a bitter laugh. "Is that what we're calling it? Because where I come from, we had a different word for powers that erase entire dimensions from existence."
The words came out harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't bring himself to regret them. Every time someone called his power a 'gift' or a 'blessing,' it felt like they were diminishing the magnitude of what he'd lost, what he'd been forced to become.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, studying Kael with those steady brown eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful but not condescending. "You're not wrong. Power without the ability to control it isn't a gift— it's a curse. But that's why you're here, isn't it? To learn that control?"
Kael slumped in his chair, suddenly feeling every ounce of exhaustion that had been building up over the past few months. "I don't know if it's possible. This power... it's not like normal void magic. It's connected to something fundamental, something that exists at the very foundation of reality. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Marcus seemed to understand anyway. The older boy leaned forward, his expression serious but not pitying.
"My father used to say that the most dangerous weapon wasn't the one that could destroy everything, but the one that could choose not to. Anyone can pull a trigger, but it takes real strength to keep the safety on."
Something about the way Marcus said it—without judgment, without false comfort, just simple truth—made Kael's throat tighten with emotion. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like he was a person instead of a problem to be solved or a threat to be contained?
A soft chime echoed through the room, and Marcus glanced at a strange clockwork device on his nightstand. " Dinner bell. You hungry? The academy food is actually pretty decent, considering most of it comes from dimensions where the laws of physics are more like gentle suggestions."
Kael realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything substantial. The dimensional travel had killed his appetite, and the constant anxiety hadn't helped. "Yeah, actually. That sounds good."
They made their way through more impossible corridors to what Marcus called the Great Hall, though 'great' seemed like an understatement for a room that appeared to extend infinitely in all directions while somehow still feeling cozy and intimate. Students from all seven years were scattered across tables that rearranged themselves based on some algorithm Kael couldn't begin to understand.
The food appeared on their plates the moment they sat down—not materialized from nothing, Marcus explained, but pulled from pocket dimensions where master chefs from across the multiverse prepared meals according to each student's dietary needs and preferences.
Kael found himself relaxing for the first time in months as he ate. The food was excellent, the conversation with Marcus was easy and natural, and the reality anchoring effect meant that his power remained mercifully quiet. For brief moments, he could almost pretend he was just a normal student at a normal (if extremely weird) school.
That illusion shattered when a girl with silver hair and eyes like liquid starlight approached their table.
"You're him, aren't you?" she said without preamble, her gaze fixed on Kael with an intensity that made him want to sink through the floor. "The Last Echo. The Void Walker. The boy who carries death in his shadow."
The conversations at nearby tables died away as other students turned to stare. Kael felt heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks.
"Luna," Marcus said warningly, "maybe give the guy a chance to finish his dinner before you start interrogating him?"
So this was Luna Starweaver. Even sitting down, Kael could sense the subtle manipulation of probability fields around her—tiny adjustments that ensured her hair fell perfectly, that the light hit her face just right, that her dramatic entrance had maximum impact.
But beneath the calculated perfection, Kael caught glimpses of something else: loneliness. The same hollow ache that ate at him every day, the feeling of being surrounded by people who saw only what they wanted to see rather than who you really were.
"I'm sorry," Luna said, and for a moment her carefully constructed facade slipped to reveal genuine embarrassment. "I just... I've heard so many stories about you. About what happened to your world. I thought maybe..."
"You thought maybe I'd want to relive the worst day of my life for your entertainment?" Kael's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that made several nearby students discretely move their chairs away from the table.
Luna's face flushed crimson. "No! I didn't mean... I just thought you might want to talk to someone who understands what it's like to carry power that isolates you from everyone else."
There was something raw in her voice that gave Kael pause. He studied her more carefully, looking past the perfect appearance and the probability manipulations to the girl underneath.
"Sit," he said finally, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. "But we're not talking about Aethros. Not tonight."
Luna's relief was palpable as she settled into the chair. For the next hour, they talked about safer topics— classes, professors, the strange quirks of academy life. Gradually, other students drifted over to join the conversation, drawn by curiosity about the new arrival and Marcus's reputation as one of the more approachable upperclassmen.
For the first time since arriving at the academy, Kael felt something that might have been hope stirring in his chest. These people were strange, certainly, and more powerful than most beings had any right to be. But they were also young, uncertain, struggling with their own burdens and fears. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a place among them.
The feeling lasted until they returned to the dormitory and Kael tried to fall asleep.
The silence that Marcus's reality anchoring provided was a blessing during the day, but at night, when the older boy's unconscious mind relaxed its grip on the local reality field, the whispers came flooding back.
*Kael... Kael... why didn't you save us?*
*The darkness comes... it hungers... it remembers...*
*You carry our deaths within you... you are the echo of our ending...*
Kael curled into a ball on his narrow bed, pressing his hands against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the voices of everyone he'd failed to save. The memory shard against his ribs pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, replaying fragments of Aethros's final moments in an endless loop of guilt and regret.
He must have made some sound—a whimper, a sob, he wasn't sure—because Marcus's voice cut through the darkness.
"Hey. You okay over there?"
Kael wanted to say yes, to maintain the illusion that he was handling this, that he was strong enough to bear the weight of his past without dragging others down with him. But the words that came out were entirely different.
"They're all dead because of me," he whispered into the darkness. "Millions of people, an entire reality, gone because I couldn't control what I am. And now I'm here, surrounded by more innocent people, and I don't know how to make sure it doesn't happen again."
There was a long pause, filled only by the distant hum of interdimensional energy and the soft whispers that followed Kael wherever he went.
"You want to know what I think?" Marcus said finally. "I think the fact that you're terrified of hurting people is exactly why you won't. The people who become monsters are the ones who stop caring about the collateral damage."
Something in Marcus's tone suggested he was speaking from experience—not his own, but close enough to matter. There was a weight to his words that came from having seen what happened when people with great power stopped seeing others as worthy of protection.
"Besides," Marcus continued, and Kael could hear the faint smile in his voice, "you're stuck with me now. Reality anchoring isn't just about stabilizing dimensional fluctuations—it's about keeping people grounded in who they are, not what they're afraid they might become."
Kael felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. When was the last time someone had offered to help him carry his burdens instead of just trying to contain the damage he might cause?
"Thank you," he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying more gratitude than he'd felt capable of expressing in months.
"Get some sleep," Marcus said gently. "Tomorrow's going to be interesting enough without adding exhaustion to the mix."
Kael closed his eyes and tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Marcus's breathing, using it as an anchor to pull himself back from the abyss of guilt and self-recrimination. The whispers didn't stop—they never really stopped— but they faded to a manageable background murmur.
The memory shard pulsed once against his ribs, a reminder that some echoes never truly fade away.
And in the depths of the academy, something ancient and hungry began to wake up, drawn by the resonance of absolute power and absolute despair that surrounded the newest student like a shroud.
*Thrum... thrum... thrum...*
The heartbeat of destiny had begun, and with it, the first movement in a symphony that would either save the multiverse or tear it apart at the seams.
In his dreams, Kael walked through the ruins of Aethros one more time, searching for something he'd lost but could never quite remember. And in the distance, barely audible over the sound of his own footsteps on broken ground, he could hear the academy's ancient foundations beginning to crack.
*Crack... crack... crack...*
Something was coming. Something that had been waiting a very long time for someone exactly like him.
The question was: would he be strong enough to face it when it finally arrived?