The Main Hall emptied slowly, students spilling into the corridors like startled birds. Conversations burst everywhere—most of them anxious, some hushed, a few laced with envy.
But every whisper carried the same name.
Caelum Veylor.
Support Division students clustered around him as he stepped into the hallway. Lira stayed close, Marenne hovered a pace behind, and Jalen followed like a man waiting for the sky to fall.
"W-We should go to class," Lira stammered. "Mistress Halien will—"
"She won't start without us," Marenne said, eyes sharp behind her glasses.
"She's probably interrogating every instructor about what Artheon said."
Jalen groaned. "Why did he have to say it publicly? We're dead. We are so dead."
Caelum walked without speeding up, without slowing down.
"Stay calm," he said quietly.
"I am calm," Jalen lied, sweating profusely.
They reached the hallway leading toward the Support Division wing when—
Someone blocked their path.
Tall.
Broad.
Armor-like uniform.
War Division crest marked across his shoulder.
Kaldros.
Then another stepped behind him.
And another.
Five total, forming a semicircle.
Lira's breath hitched.
Marenne stiffened, shifting her stack of books defensively.
Jalen took one step back.
The lead boy stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, a grin spreading across his face.
Caelum recognized him.
Darin.
The same Kaldros brute from earlier… except now his eyes were filled with something new.
Not arrogance.
Not boredom.
Fear.
Wrapped in anger.
"Veylor," Darin said, voice low. "We need to talk."
Caelum met his gaze politely.
"No," he replied softly. "You need to talk. I need to listen."
Several Support students nearby flinched.
Darin scowled. "You think you're funny?"
"No," Caelum said. "Merely accurate."
Behind Darin, one of the other Kaldros boys glared.
"Listen up, trash," he snapped. "What you did to that Mindscarred—people are saying you broke it. Like, literally broke its soul-thread."
Marenne inhaled sharply.
Lira clutched Caelum's sleeve again.
Caelum tilted his head slightly. "And that concerns you?"
"It concerns EVERYONE," Darin hissed. "Forbidden Division eyes on you? That means danger. And danger—"
He jabbed a finger at Caelum's chest.
"—belongs to Kaldros."
Caelum looked down at the finger touching his uniform.
Ah.
Mistake.
He raised his eyes slowly to Darin's.
"If you value that hand," Caelum murmured, "remove it."
Darin scoffed. "Or what? You'll… unmake me?"
The other Kaldros boys laughed.
Wrong move.
Caelum didn't even touch him.
He simply exhaled.
Just a soft breath.
Thread Sense flooded the hallway—quiet, invisible, slicing through space like thin wires.
He saw Darin's fear-thread—thin, trembling beneath the bravado.
He tugged it.
Gently.
Very gently.
Darin froze.
His breath hitched.
His muscles locked.
His eyes widened—pupils dilating in primal terror.
He stumbled back, gasping as if drowning.
"What—what the hell—?"
His friends grabbed his arms.
"Darin? Darin!"
"What's wrong with him?"
"Why is he shaking?"
Caelum's voice was soft, nearly sympathetic.
"You shouldn't touch things you don't understand."
Darin collapsed to his knees.
Sweat dripped down his face.
His hands shook uncontrollably.
He choked out, "W–What did you—"
"Nothing permanent," Caelum assured him.
"Just a reminder."
He stepped past the group as they scrambled to collect their trembling leader.
Lira stared at Caelum in awe.
Marenne in fascination.
Jalen in pure terror.
"Don't cross him," one of the Kaldros boys whispered under his breath.
"He's wrong. He's… wrong."
Caelum didn't look back.
He walked on.
Support Division Classroom
Mistress Halien stood at the front, chalk poised midair, gaze narrowed at the now-entering students.
Her eyes flicked to Caelum.
She didn't speak.
But she watched him all the way to his seat.
Once class began, her voice cut through the room like a scalpel.
"Today we study corrupted resonance. The type seen in failed Sigil evolutions."
Lira stiffened.
Marenne leaned forward in anticipation.
Jalen looked ready to faint.
Halien unfolded a parchment showing a spiraling sigil pattern with jagged edges.
"This is the resonance signature of a Mindscarred. Study it. Learn its instability. Identify what leads to collapse."
As she taught, Caelum traced the pattern mentally.
Its threads vibrated wrong—sharp, chaotic, desperate.
Corruption had twisted the soul-thread inward, causing—
Ah.
An echo.
A resonance whisper.
The same pattern he felt beneath the dorm.
The same energy from last night.
He lifted his hand slightly.
"Mistress Halien."
She paused. "Yes, Veylor?"
"This particular collapse did not originate from self-corruption."
The class froze.
Lira's pen slipped.
Marenne inhaled sharply.
Jalen whispered, "Caelum, no—"
Halien's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
Caelum stood.
Pointed at the sigil diagram.
"The spiral residue is wrong. This was not a Mindscarred created by accident. It was provoked. Forced. Something external broke its resonance by attacking the spine-thread."
Halien blinked.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
"Who taught you to read resonance at that level?"
"No one."
The room went silent.
Again.
Halien lowered the chalk.
"What," she asked carefully, "is your hypothesis?"
Caelum's voice was even.
"Someone—or something—interfering from beneath the academy."
A whisper rippled through the class.
Halien's expression didn't change.
But her knuckles whitened on the chalk.
"You will stay after class," she said.
Lira grabbed Caelum's sleeve under the desk.
"Caelum," she whispered, shaking, "why did you—why would you say something like that?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The presence from beneath Ashthorne pulsed just once—
Like a heartbeat.
Or a reply.
After Class
Students filed out nervously. Halien waited until the last one was gone before crossing her arms and staring hard at Caelum.
"Explain exactly how you knew that."
Caelum responded politely.
"I read the pattern."
"That pattern is only readable by advanced Stabilizers," she said sharply. "And yet you—"
She stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Only for a second.
Caelum felt it—
Her sudden fear-thread.
Her sudden realization.
She had sensed something in him.
Something wrong.
Something large.
"Caelum," she said softly, almost gently, "you should leave."
"…Leave?"
"Yes."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"For your own safety. Go back to Dorm Nine and do not leave until tomorrow."
Caelum studied her.
She was warning him.
Not as an instructor.
As someone who understood something was moving beneath the academy.
Something that now had interest in Caelum.
He bowed faintly.
"Thank you, Mistress."
She dismissed him quickly, almost urgently.
Caelum left the classroom.
As the door shut behind him—
A shadow detached from the far end of the hall.
Someone had been waiting.
Seraphine Pyrell stepped forward, crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dim light.
She stopped in front of him.
Close.
Too close.
Her voice was low and steady.
"You're not what they think you are."
Caelum met her gaze.
"I never claimed to be."
She leaned in slightly, studying the threads of his presence.
"What broke that creature in Dorm Nine?"
Her voice was a whisper of flame.
"And why does the Forbidden Division want you?"
Caelum considered.
Then answered truthfully.
"…Because the academy isn't the only thing watching me."
Seraphine exhaled slowly.
Her lips curved—not into a smile, but into recognition.
"You," she murmured, "are going to tear this academy apart."
Caelum's eyes glinted.
"I know."