Chapter 7 - Echoes of Power
The Archive doors closed behind Kael with a heavy, final clang, and the silence that followed was almost unbearable. His chest still glowed faintly where the storm-mark traced lightning scars across his skin. Ember padded at his side, fur bristling with sparks of golden flame.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then the whispers began.
"He survived."
"No one's survived in years."
"Did you see his wolf? It changed too - like it carries the storm itself."
"Or maybe he's cursed. Maybe the Archive only let him out because it wants him loose."
The murmurs slithered through the halls of the Academy like wildfire, and by the time Kael stepped back into the common grounds, the entire student body seemed to know. Wherever he walked, eyes followed. Some with awe, some with suspicion, and some with naked fear.
Joren stood with his circle of admirers near the sparring grounds, lips curved in that infuriating smirk. "The boy who can't control a single rune suddenly survives the Archive," he drawled loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Clearly the storm chose a fitting host. Chaos breeds chaos."
A ripple of laughter followed.
Kael clenched his fists, but Ember growled first, lightning dancing along his teeth. Joren's own hawk familiar flapped its wings, screeching in defiance.
"Don't," Selene's voice cut across the tension. She appeared at Kael's side, calm and composed as ever. Her silver hair gleamed under the sun, and her fox familiar padded beside her with silent grace. "He's trying to provoke you. Again."
Kael exhaled through his teeth, forcing himself to loosen his grip. "He's not wrong. I don't understand what happened in there."
Selene's gaze was sharp, thoughtful, not mocking. "Then perhaps you should learn. You can't afford ignorance anymore." With that, she moved on, leaving Kael uneasy.
From the edge of the crowd, Mira clapped slowly, her grin wide and wicked. "Impressive, Thunderheart," she purred, sauntering closer. Her snake coiled lazily around her shoulders, forked tongue flicking. "Not everyone comes back from the Archive... and even fewer come back with gifts."
"I didn't ask for gifts," Kael muttered.
Mira tilted her head, dark eyes glinting. "No. But power never asks what you want. It only asks what you'll sacrifice."
The words lingered with him long after she left.
By evening, the Academy's mess hall was a hive of rumor. Every bench, every corner hummed with Kael's name. Students argued about whether the storm-mark was a blessing or a curse, whether Ember's transformation meant Kael had forged a forbidden bond. Even some instructors looked unsettled, their conversations hushed when he passed by.
Kael sat alone at the far end of a table, pushing his food around without eating. Ember lay at his feet, but even his presence couldn't calm the storm twisting inside Kael.
For the first time, he wondered if Joren was right. Maybe the Archive hadn't spared him out of strength - but because it wanted him loose, spreading its chaos.
A chair scraped across from him. Mira dropped into the seat, uninvited, her snake hissing at Ember until the wolf bared his teeth in return.
"You look miserable," she said cheerfully. "I like that. Misery makes people interesting."
Kael frowned. "What do you want?"
Her grin widened. "Only to help. You see, everyone's whispering that you're cursed. But I think you're dangerous. And dangerous people... they attract dangerous friends." She leaned forward, voice dropping. "If you're smart, you'll learn how to use what's inside you before the Academy decides it can't control you."
Kael met her eyes, searching for mockery, but found only something sharper. Curiosity. Hunger. Maybe even admiration.
And it chilled him more than Joren's mockery ever could.
The next morning dawned bright, but Kael woke restless. His storm-mark burned faintly under his skin, lines of lightning crawling across his chest and arms like living scars. Each pulse of energy made Ember twitch beside him, ears flattening as if hearing a sound Kael couldn't.
By the time training began, he felt raw, stretched thin.
The class gathered on the sparring grounds, wooden platforms arranged in rings where duels took place. An instructor barked orders, pairing students together. Kael was matched with a lean boy whose panther familiar padded gracefully at his side.
At first, the match went as expected - Kael dodging, blocking, letting Ember dart forward with flame and fang. But when the boy pressed hard, striking him with a rune-forged staff, something inside Kael snapped.
The storm-mark flared.
Lightning surged from his hands, arcing wildly across the platform. Ember howled, his flames exploding outward in tandem. The blast flung his opponent across the ring, sending him crashing into the barrier with a sickening crack. The panther yowled, shielding its master with a shimmering aura just before impact.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Kael froze, horror knotting his gut. The boy lay stunned, smoke curling from his staff. Kael hadn't meant to - he hadn't even tried. The storm had simply answered, violent and unrestrained.
"Out of control again," Joren's voice cut through the shock, sharp as a blade. He stood at the edge of the ring, smirk curling like poison. "Tell me, Kael - how many more of us need to nearly die before they lock you away?"
Kael's stomach churned. He wanted to deny it, but the truth was plain: he had nearly killed someone.
The instructor's expression was grim as they checked on the injured boy, then turned their eyes to Kael. "End the match. Report to the Healers. And you - learn control, or you won't see another duel."
Kael stepped down, Ember pressing close to his leg. Sparks still danced across the wolf's fur, as if the storm had bled into him as well. Kael rested a trembling hand on his companion's shoulder, but Ember's body shuddered with power, barely contained.
That night, Kael trained alone in the courtyard, away from watching eyes. Ember paced in a wide circle, snapping at the stray bolts of energy that sparked every time Kael tried to focus.
"Why can't I stop it?" Kael muttered, voice ragged. "Why does it feel like the storm wants to break out no matter what I do?"
Ember growled, stepping into Kael's reach. The wolf pressed his head against Kael's chest, right where the storm-mark glowed. The pulse steadied, if only slightly, under Ember's touch.
Kael exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against Ember's. "You're the only thing keeping me from burning this place down."
A laugh broke the quiet. Mira leaned against a pillar, watching. "You're learning," she said, her snake coiling lazily around her neck. "Not control, exactly... but balance. You and that wolf - you're tethered. The storm listens when you listen to him."
Kael straightened, glaring. "Were you following me?"
"Always," Mira said easily. "Someone has to make sure you don't fry yourself." Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. "Besides, it's fascinating. Most people can't survive that kind of power. You? You're changing. And so is he."
Ember bared his teeth, but Mira only laughed again, unfazed.
"Careful, Thunderheart," she whispered, turning to leave. "The more you shine, the more shadows will gather. And trust me - there are plenty watching already."
Her words lingered long after she disappeared into the night. Kael tightened his grip on Ember's fur, the storm-mark burning faintly beneath his skin.
He wasn't sure if Mira's warning frightened him... or thrilled him.
Kael sat on the cold stone steps outside the library, head in his hands. The storm-mark pulsed beneath his skin, faint but insistent, like a drumbeat only he could hear. Ember rested at his feet, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, but even the wolf's presence couldn't quiet the storm gnawing at him.
He wasn't alone for long.
Footsteps clicked against the stone, light and measured. Selene appeared, carrying a stack of books bound in faded leather. Her fox familiar trotted at her side, tail swaying like a plume of silver smoke.
"You should be resting," she said simply, setting the books down beside him.
Kael gave a humorless laugh. "Rest doesn't come easy when half the Academy thinks you're cursed."
Selene studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sat beside him, close but not too close. "Fear and awe look the same in people's eyes. You can't always tell which one you're getting."
Her words struck deeper than he expected. He turned to her, frowning. "And what do you see when you look at me?"
Her lips quirked faintly, almost a smile. "Potential."
Before Kael could respond, Mira's voice rang out from the shadows. "Careful, Selene. Potential can also mean a spectacular death."
Mira strolled forward, her snake winding lazily down her arm. She perched on the railing opposite them, eyes glinting with mischief. "Besides, our Thunderheart here doesn't need more admirers. He needs allies. Real ones."
Kael stiffened. "And you're volunteering?"
Mira's grin widened. "Of course. Who better to help you survive than someone who knows how this place really works?" She leaned forward, voice lowering. "You've seen it, haven't you? The sealed door beneath the library. The runes older than the Academy itself."
Kael's breath caught. "How do you know about that?"
Mira tapped her temple. "Because I've been looking. The Trial woke something inside you, Kael. Something the Academy pretends doesn't exist. And if you don't start asking the right questions, the wrong people will."
Selene's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean, the wrong people?"
Mira shrugged lightly, but her smile was thin. "This place is crawling with shadows. Councilors with secrets. Teachers who serve agendas you don't understand. Students with ties to things older than kingdoms. And then there are the ones outside the Academy - those who would kill for the kind of power you're stumbling around with."
Her words prickled like ice down Kael's spine. He glanced at Ember, who growled low, ears flattened. The wolf felt the danger in her warning too.
"So what are you saying?" Kael asked quietly.
Mira's eyes gleamed. "That the Archive didn't test you - it awakened you. And now the real game begins. If you want to live, you'll need allies who aren't afraid of storms."
For once, there was no mockery in her tone. Only sharp truth.
Kael's pulse quickened. He wanted to dismiss her, but her words rang too close to the dreams, the masked figure, the whispers that hadn't left him since Greyhaven. The storm-mark burned faintly under his skin, as if agreeing.
Before he could answer, Ember lifted his head sharply, hackles rising. His golden eyes glowed as he stared into the shadows beyond the courtyard.
Kael followed his gaze.
For an instant, he thought he saw movement - a figure cloaked in black, standing perfectly still beneath the moonlight. Watching.
When he blinked, the figure was gone. Only the rustle of leaves remained.
Kael's stomach knotted.
Mira's grin returned, sharp as a blade. "See? Shadows already gather." She hopped down from the railing, her snake coiling back around her shoulders. "Think about what I said, Thunderheart. You'll need us."
With that, she vanished into the dark.
Selene remained silent for a long moment, her fox curling at her feet. Finally, she said softly, "She's reckless... but not wrong."
Kael stared into the night where the figure had stood, Ember growling softly beside him. The storm inside him pulsed again, restless and urgent.
Whoever the watchers were, they weren't done.
And neither was the storm.
The night after Mira's warning passed in uneasy silence. Kael tossed in his narrow bed, sweat slicking his skin as storm-mark scars glowed faintly in the dark. Ember lay curled at his side, twitching fitfully in sleep, as though he too dreamed of thunder.
When dawn broke, Kael almost convinced himself the cloaked figure had been a trick of the shadows. Almost.
Classes dragged. The whispers hadn't died down - if anything, they had grown sharper. Students parted when Kael entered a room, some glaring, others lowering their voices mid-sentence. His sparring partner from the day before avoided his eyes, a faint bruise still darkening his jaw.
By evening, Kael felt raw, stretched thin, as though the whole Academy waited for him to slip.
That was when he found the letter.
It was tucked neatly into the pages of a book he'd borrowed from the library - an old text on runes, nothing unusual. But when he opened it at his desk, a single folded slip of parchment slid out.
No name. No seal. Only a sigil drawn in careful black ink: a chain split down the middle by a jagged bolt of lightning.
Kael's breath caught.
The words were brief, written in a hand that looked both ancient and deliberate:
"The storm is not your enemy. If you wish to understand, come. Midnight. The third floor, eastern wing, behind the locked door."
Ember growled low, his fur sparking faintly. He nudged the parchment with his nose, then looked up at Kael with golden eyes full of warning.
Kael swallowed hard. "I know. It's a trap."
But even as he said it, his chest burned. The storm-mark throbbed like it recognized the symbol, like it wanted him to go.
He tried to ignore it through dinner, but couldn't. Mira's words replayed in his head - the Archive didn't test you, it awakened you - and Selene's calm assessment of "potential" gnawed at him. And always, behind it all, the memory of that masked figure in his dreams, whispering: You belong to us.
By the time the moon rose, Kael knew he wouldn't sleep.
Midnight found him pacing the eastern wing's empty corridor, Ember padding silently at his side. The torches sputtered low, shadows stretching long across the stone walls. Every sound felt amplified: the scrape of his boots, the crackle of Ember's fur, the slow drip of water from the ceiling.
The locked door was exactly where the letter promised, half-hidden behind a row of old suits of armor. The wood was blackened with age, the handle cold to the touch. Faint runes shimmered on its surface - wards meant to keep students out.
Ember sniffed the air, hackles bristling. His growl rumbled low, a warning Kael had learned never to ignore.
But the storm-mark flared again, bright and insistent.
Kael closed his hand into a fist. "Just a look," he whispered. "If it's a trap, we leave. Together."
He pressed his palm to the door. The runes flickered, then pulsed in rhythm with the storm inside him. To his shock, the wards cracked open like ice under a blade. The lock clicked softly.
The door creaked ajar.
A draft of cold air rushed out, carrying the faintest scent of ash and ozone.
Beyond the threshold, only darkness waited.
Kael hesitated, Ember growling at his side. His instincts screamed danger, but his storm-mark burned hotter, demanding. Calling.
Somewhere deep within the Academy, a clock chimed the hour.
And Kael stepped forward.