The courtyard burned with silver light.
Kyle's invisible threads shimmered like constellations, twisting through the night air. Across from him, Lira's summoning circle pulsed with life — the runes orbiting her like planets around a dying star.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then —
"Bind," Kyle whispered.
The ground cracked. Thin, glimmering lines shot out like spider silk, wrapping around Lira's wrist. But she was faster than he expected — her hand flared, and from the circle emerged a spectral beast, a wolf made of starlight, snapping the threads in a burst of radiance.
"Cute trick," she said, stepping forward. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Kyle smiled — not kindly.
"Oh, I intend to."
He raised both hands, and the broken threads didn't vanish. They slithered, rearranging themselves midair into dozens of smaller lines, each ending in a puppet-shape — translucent, human-sized, with hollow faces. They surrounded her like an audience waiting for the next act.
Lira's breath hitched. So many…
The puppets moved in unison. Their motions were elegant, almost beautiful — until they attacked.
Steel clashed against spectral light. Sparks rained down as Lira's summoned wolf defended her, howling as it dissolved puppet after puppet. Yet for every one she destroyed, another rose.
"You're relentless," she panted.
Kyle tilted his head, the moonlight glinting in his eyes. "Control demands perfection. Perfection demands sacrifice."
Then the strings shot toward her again — not to bind, but to touch the pendant at her neck. For an instant, their magic connected.
Kyle froze. He saw something.
A vision.
A memory that wasn't his.
A dark tower, a circle of cloaked figures, and at the center — a broken marionette, bleeding red threads instead of string.
A whisper:
> "The Soul Weavers must never awaken."
The connection snapped. Both stumbled backward, gasping.
"What… what was that?" Lira demanded.
Kyle didn't answer. His hands trembled — not from fear, but from revelation.
Lira's pendant wasn't just jewelry. It was a key, a seal holding back something ancient.
Before he could speak, bells began to ring across the academy grounds — deep, echoing tones that shattered the silence. The Headmistress's alarm.
Lira's eyes widened. "Someone broke the inner seal…"
The clock tower's face cracked, its gears shrieking as black mist poured out like blood. A scream echoed from the eastern wing — then another.
Kyle turned to her, threads sparking with blue fire. "Looks like class is dismissed."
Lira glared at him, torn between fury and fear. "Don't you dare run off alone—"
But he was already moving, the air behind him trembling as his puppets followed like shadows.
Somewhere deep within Erevale, something old had awakened.
And in the darkness between heartbeats, Kyle heard a whisper — faint, familiar, and terrifyingly gentle.
> "My little puppeteer… you've finally pulled the right string"