CHAPTER 55 – THE SOUND OF FRACTURE
After Aleric left, the Academy courtyard returned to its usual hum, yet the silence inside Seryn became heavier, darker. With each step he took, the gray flow expanded and then shrank again. It responded to his movement, adjusting its rhythm to match his footsteps. But the rhythm was not harmonious—it was uneven. A suffocating, stone-like weight pressing inside his chest.
The promise to meet Aleric in the evening echoed in his mind, and he had no idea how to spend the rest of the day. Kai's strange humor, Lyra's quiet support, Rien's analytical calm… none of them were here right now.
This decision—this moment—belonged only to him.
He left the courtyard and slipped into the Academy's side corridors. Most of the classrooms were still lit, and even though students had scattered after the postponement announcement, the libraries, study rooms, and inner gardens remained full. But he no longer heard their meaningless whispers—and he didn't look at anyone. All his focus was drawn to the weight of the gray crystal in his hand.
The crystal pulsed with a steady, warm rhythm. That rhythm… was trying to seize control of the crack's rhythm. Seryn felt it clearly. With every step he took, the silver veins inside the crystal glimmered faintly, then dimmed again.
It was breathing.
And it was waiting.
He needed solitude to use this stone. This had to be turned into a ritual. The secret Daskal parchment had been given to explain how the crystal should be used. Caerus's words still hung in Seryn's mind:
"You will either be shaped… or you will break."
Seryn didn't even open the parchment yet. Not now.
He had to find a place first.
A silent, isolated place no one would enter.
On the Academy's left wing, there was an old courtyard. Far from the classrooms, moss-covered stone, abandoned years ago because it consistently disrupted mana flow. Not many knew about it. And now, that silence called to him again.
He slipped through narrow corridors and reached the gate of the sealed garden. The lock wasn't broken, but there was no active mana barrier—no protection left.
Seryn pushed the door. The metal hinges groaned softly.
Inside, there was no wind.
The garden was dead.
Leaves long fallen, shrubs dried, stone paths swallowed by moss. The air held almost no mana.
A stark contrast to the living, bright currents of the main courtyard.
This silence… made it perfect.
He tightened his grip on the crystal.
No one will see. No one will feel this. Just me… and this thing.
He walked toward the old stone table at the center of the garden. The grooves on its surface still held remnants of ancient rituals—faded mana lines, broken symbols. But Seryn understood immediately what the table offered him.
This place acted like a natural well, preventing energy from scattering.
Exactly what he needed.
He placed the crystal onto the stone table.
Took a slow breath.
The gray flow within him expanded, as if inhaling through his lungs.
He touched the crystal.
It wasn't warm, yet it felt undeniably alive. The silver veins trembled faintly, as though recognizing him—perhaps waiting for him.
"Will you break me… or will I shape you?"
There was no answer.
Because this stone, this power, this crack… belonged to no one but Seryn.
He placed his hand fully on the crystal.
Closed his eyes.
The gray flow widened in an instant.
The crystal's vibration traveled from his palm to his arm, then to his shoulders, chest—finally striking the crack. It felt like a collision… but not exactly.
More like a meeting.
Two forces acknowledging each other's existence for the first time.
The crack in his chest burned sharply.
Seryn clenched his teeth.
He tried to inhale, but even his breath followed the rhythm of the crack. The crystal was reading the gray flow—testing it, measuring it, weighing it.
And then—
A sound.
A voice—
not from outside,
not from inside his thoughts,
but from the very center of his spirit.
A faint whisper from within the crystal:
"Who… are you?"
Seryn's breath froze. The voice wasn't male or female, not old or young.
It was as old as the gray flow itself.
He swallowed.
"I—"
The crack widened violently before he could complete the sentence.
A burst of gray lightning tore through him.
The stone surface beneath his hands cracked.
The crystal blazed with a harsh gray light.
Seryn did not pull away.
If he retreated now, the ritual would break—and the crystal would take control.
He held his ground, hand pressed firmly on the crystal as its vibration deepened. The crack widened in pain and strange relief.
As if two mismatched pieces were being forced together.
The voice echoed again:
"Half… power…"
Seryn's brows knit tightly.
He tried to understand the power—
but the power was studying him.
"I'm not half," he hissed.
"I'm not broken."
"You… are not me… but you come… from me…"
The words hit him like freezing iron.
His knees trembled.
His vision blurred.
The crack stretched, pulling the gray flow deeper into the crystal's rhythm.
Then—
The crystal's light abruptly dimmed.
Seryn gasped.
The gray flow contracted sharply.
The crack narrowed—like a wound sliced thin with a blade.
The pain vanished in an instant.
Silence.
He nearly collapsed onto the table.
He pulled his hand away from the crystal, chest heaving.
His limbs shook.
His vision darkened at the edges.
But…
When he looked down at his chest—
something had changed.
The crack was still there—
but its rhythm had shifted.
More controlled.
More stable.
More… aligned.
But not closed.
This was not victory.
This was a pact.
He glanced at the crystal.
The silver veins now glowed brighter—
as if reshaped by his touch.
As if the stone were now watching him.
Another whisper stirred inside the gray flow:
"Not yet…"
This time the voice was weaker, fading.
Seryn didn't know what not yet meant.
Not yet closed?
Not yet stabilized?
Not yet united?
He pushed himself up, gripping the edge of the stone table.
His legs trembled, but his mana lines felt more alive, his mind sharper, his spirit more taut.
The stone had not drained him.
It had not taken his soul.
But something had begun.
As he walked toward the gate, a warm pulse spread through the gray flow.
Not pain.
Not threat.
More like… a call.
Before leaving, he looked back.
The old stone table—
The crystal—
The thick, heavy silence—
All of it felt as if it were still watching him.
Stepping into the corridor, the world regained its noise:
students whispering, mana currents humming, faraway bells ringing…
But Seryn reacted to none of it.
His mind was fixed on one thing:
The word the crystal whispered.
"Not yet…"
A warning?
Or a promise?
He inhaled deeply.
The gray flow trembled gently—almost calm.
His meeting with Aleric was close.
And now, after undergoing the crystal's r
itual, Seryn no longer knew whether he was ready to hear what Aleric would reveal.
But one truth had become clear:
For the first time,
the crack had answered him.
And that answer was only the beginning.