I returned to the cold, spartan silence of my room in Blackwood Hall, the chaotic energy of the Affinity Assessment still buzzing in the air of the Academy. But for me, the external chaos was nothing compared to the storm of calculations and recalibrations raging within my own mind.
I sat in the darkness, not even bothering to light a candle. The gloom was a comfort, a familiar cloak. I replayed the events of the day, not as memories, but as data points in a rapidly changing equation.
Isabella's restrained inferno. Elara's crystalline computer. Roselle's profound connection to the earth. Elsa's audacious display of absolute stealth. My own carefully calibrated performance. All of it had gone more or less according to the script of the novel. They were powerful, they were impressive, and they were, for the most part, predictable.
But Kaelen… Kaelen was a bug in the code. A catastrophic, system-destabilizing error.
His "affinity" was not an affinity. An affinity is the ability to manipulate an aspect of reality—fire, ice, death, space. What Kaelen possessed was something far more fundamental, and far more terrifying. It was a Devouring. The ability to consume, to annihilate, to *unmake* energy itself. It was a power that operated on a different axis from everyone else's. It was a talent ranked as Eternal-tier for a reason: it was a fundamental constant of the universe, a force of cosmic entropy given flesh.
And it had awakened years ahead of schedule.
Why? What had changed? Was my presence here, the insertion of an alien soul into the world's narrative, causing ripples I couldn't predict? Had the botched summoning that brought me here somehow altered the flow of fate for others as well? Or was the novel I remembered simply an inaccurate translation of this world's reality, a flawed guide from the very beginning?
The thought was a cold spike of fear in the core of my being. My entire survival strategy was predicated on my foreknowledge. If that knowledge was unreliable, if the plot could diverge so wildly, then I was no longer a player with a cheat sheet. I was just another piece on the board, as blind as the rest of them.
No. I took a slow, calming breath, the Mournblade stillness settling over me. Panic was a luxury I could not afford. Azrael could panic. The new me could not.
This was not a disaster. It was a complication. And every complication is also an opportunity. The novel is not a prophecy. It is a guide. A map of a country that is now undergoing seismic shifts. The old landmarks are still there, but the roads have changed. I can no longer follow it blindly. I must adapt. I must use my knowledge not as a script, but as a baseline from which to measure deviation.
This was both terrifying and exhilarating. If the future was not set in stone, if the story could be rewritten, then my own fate—Damon Mournblade's pathetic, footnote of a death—was not inevitable. I had already suspected this, hoped for it. Now I had proof. The game was live.
And Kaelen Dusk, the protagonist, had just become the most interesting piece on the board. The Great Houses, the Imperial family, they would all be vying for control of him now. This "Unclassified" talent of his made him a priceless asset, a weapon of unknown potential. Prince Valerius, I knew, would be the first to try and sink his claws into the boy, offering patronage and power in exchange for loyalty.
I could not allow that. Kaelen, under Valerius's control, would be a sword aimed at the heart of all the Prince's enemies—which would eventually include me and my House. But Kaelen as an ally, as a piece I could move… his Devouring ability was one of the few things in existence that could pose a threat to the Outer Gods. He was the story's designated hero for a reason.
I needed to get close to him. I needed to understand him, to gain his trust, to position myself as a guide, a mentor. A difficult task, given my persona as a cold, aloof necromancer's son. Roselle had the advantage there; her kindness was a natural lure for someone like Kaelen. I would have to find a different angle. Perhaps a shared secret? A common enemy?
My thoughts were interrupted by a now-familiar sensation. The whisper.
It was stronger than ever before. The massive outpouring of energy during the Affinity Assessment had been a feast for whatever was lurking on the other side of the veil. The hum was more insistent now, the pressure more intense. It was like the feeling of a migraine building, a tension behind the very fabric of space in my room.
The Vex'Arak summoning was approaching. Faster than I had anticipated. The divergence in Kaelen's fate might also mean a divergence in the villains' timetable. I had less time than I thought.
The pieces of my new strategy began to click into place.
First, I needed allies. Or, at least, assets. Elsa Noctis was at the top of that list. She knew I was investigating, and I knew she was. A mutual exchange of information would be beneficial to us both. An alliance of convenience between two shadows.
Second, I needed to get closer to the "hero" group forming around Kaelen and Roselle. I couldn't afford to be an outsider when the chaos began. I needed to be in the eye of the storm, where I could influence events.
Third, I needed to prepare for the summoning itself. Not just to survive it, but to profit from it. The novel described Damon's death. But it also described the summoning of Xylos in detail. It described the ritual, the entity, its powers, its weaknesses. Azrael's memory was a bestiary entry on the monster that was about to be unleashed. What if, instead of being a victim of the summoning, I could become a beneficiary? The thought was insane, arrogant, and utterly intoxicating.
I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark forest and the three moons hanging in the sky. The world of Aethelgard was a beautiful, terrifying, and now, unpredictable place. The story was already off the rails.
A slow, cold smile touched my lips. Good. I never much cared for stories that were predictable. It was time to start writing my own chapter.