Dawn never truly touched Ashthorne.
The sky was a pale smear of gray, the air cold enough to sting, and the academy grounds felt… thinner today. Like a curtain had been drawn back just slightly, revealing something behind it.
Students hurried along the stone walkways, whispering about last night.
"Another breach…"
"In Dorm Nine again?"
"They sealed the floor but…"
"…someone said the walls were breathing."
Caelum walked through them silently.
But now?
He saw everything differently.
Thin glowing lines ran through the air like hair-thin strings.
Threads of fear.
Threads of curiosity.
Threads of arrogance.
Threads of pain.
All connected.
All vulnerable.
All readable.
Mistress Halien walked beside him, far too close, her gaze darting around as if expecting something to leap from the shadows.
She had insisted on escorting him to his morning class.
Not as a teacher.
As a witness.
"Did you feel it again?" she whispered, voice trembling.
"Yes," Caelum answered calmly.
Her lips pressed tight. "Something ancient lies under Ashthorne. We have always known. But never—never has it reached through the dorm floors."
Caelum's eyes tracked a drifting memory-thread floating through the air—light blue, soft, fading. A student daydreaming of breakfast.
"It's reacting," he said. "To me."
Halien stopped walking.
"Caelum." She grabbed his sleeve. "I fear what that means."
He removed her hand gently.
"You're not wrong to fear. But fear won't stop anything."
She swallowed hard.
"No… but the Dominion Council will want to see you."
He glanced at her.
"Not yet."
"…How do you know?"
"Because the one person who would have been sent for me hasn't moved."
Halien's eyes widened.
"You can see that?"
Caelum didn't answer.
The Hallway to Support Division
Students parted around him as if guided by instinct.
Lira rushed over, eyes red from not sleeping.
"Caelum!" she whispered. "I heard noises again. The floor… it felt like a heartbeat."
He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"It won't reach your room today."
She exhaled shakily.
Marenne stepped up behind Lira, squinting at Caelum like she was trying to unravel him with logic alone.
"You look… different," she muttered. "Your presence—something's off. You're too quiet."
"I am always quiet."
"No. No, this is different."
Her eyes flicked across him, analyzing the air around his body.
"It's like you're… not fully here."
Caelum smiled faintly. "Interesting observation."
Jalen stumbled over next. "I—I'm transferring. I swear. I'll beg my parents to move me to any other academy. Even a farming school."
Caelum patted his shoulder.
"You won't survive three minutes on a farm."
Jalen whimpered.
Before they could continue, the hallway lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every lantern extinguished simultaneously.
Students screamed.
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
All except the space around Caelum.
It brightened.
Threads lit the air like constellations.
Blue threads—fear.
Yellow—confusion.
Red—anger.
White—lies.
Black—something else entirely.
Caelum's eyes narrowed.
The black thread wasn't human.
It slithered along the ceiling, thickening, pulsing—
Searching.
"…bearer…"
The word rippled through the silence.
Lira covered her ears and whimpered.
Jalen fell to his knees.
Marenne dropped her books.
Mistress Halien backed up until she hit a wall.
"No. No—this close—this soon—"
The black thread snapped downward.
Straight toward Caelum.
He lifted his hand.
Two fingers extended.
Thread Touch activated.
Reality paused—
—and the black thread froze inches from his face.
It writhed.
Hissed.
Coiled.
Caelum's voice was soft.
"Not yet. Wait."
The thread trembled.
With confusion.
And recognition.
"…unfold… further…"
"Later," Caelum murmured.
"Not here."
The thread recoiled violently.
Then shot upward, dissolving into cracks in the ceiling stone.
The lanterns flared back to life.
Students gasped, collapsing into shaky breaths.
Mistress Halien leaned against the wall, pale and trembling.
"Caelum," she whispered, "what did you just do?"
He adjusted his collar.
"Negotiated."
Support Division Classroom
When they entered, students huddled in terrified clusters.
Even Mistress Halien looked too shaken to teach.
Caelum stood quietly beside Lira as she tried to steady herself.
Marenne stepped closer, voice low.
"That black thread… I couldn't see it, but I felt it. Like something was looking through me."
"It was," Caelum answered.
She swallowed hard.
"And you… you talked to it."
He didn't respond.
Because someone else had been watching.
Someone with eyes sharper than any thread.
Seraphine Pyrell leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The red in her irises flickered like coals.
She walked over.
Students parted like water around her.
"Caelum," she said quietly. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
He lifted an eyebrow.
"You have a way with obvious questions."
She leaned in slightly.
"I know the feeling of death touching a room. And whatever that was… it wasn't death."
A faint smile tugged at Caelum's lips.
"No," he agreed. "Much older."
Seraphine's gaze hardened.
"You need to come with me. Now."
Halien stiffened.
"You have no authority—"
Seraphine didn't even look at her.
"I'm not asking."
Her eyes locked onto Caelum's.
"I'm telling you before someone else does. The Dominion Council issued a summon."
Halien inhaled sharply.
"No… no, not this fast—"
Seraphine's jaw tightened.
"You're to be questioned immediately."
Lira grabbed Caelum's arm, terrified.
"Caelum—you can't go. The Council—people go in and never come out—"
Caelum placed a calming hand over hers.
"It's fine."
Marenne shook her head rapidly.
"No, it is NOT fine. Not fine at all! They don't summon students unless—unless they think you're a monster!"
Jalen sobbed. "HE IS A MONSTER—just a helpful one—"
Halien stepped forward, eyes trembling.
"Caelum. Listen carefully. If the Dominion Council calls you, you must not—"
"Decline," Caelum finished.
She froze.
"Yes," she whispered. "Declining is considered treason. But going… could be worse."
Caelum's gaze drifted toward the window.
A new thread hovered outside.
Thick.
Black.
Watching.
Waiting.
Calling.
He exhaled softly.
"I already know someone from the Council is approaching."
Mistress Halien paled.
"How—?"
Caelum nodded toward the door.
"They're here."
The door opened—
And Artheon the Bound stepped inside.
Chains rattling.
Eyes bottomless.
Expression unreadable.
"Caelum Veylor," he said quietly.
"The Council awaits."