The bells did not stop.
They hammered across the academy like war drums, echoing off towers and stone, rattling dorm windows and making sigil-lamps flicker in nervous pulses.
Most students had never even heard this pattern.
Three short tolls.
A pause.
Three long.
A deep, dragging final note.
Lira flinched with every ring.
Caelum didn't.
He walked her back to Dorm Nine with steady steps, arm still supporting her weight as if she were a fragile object he refused to drop. Marenne followed close, clutching her notebook, eyes darting between them and the dark, trembling sky. Jalen half-jogged behind, tripping over his own boots.
The courtyard was chaotic.
Students rushed out of buildings, instructors shouted conflicting orders.
Rumors crackled through the air like lightning.
"Is it another tear?"
"Did the East Wing collapse again?"
"Is it a beast horde?"
"No—someone said it's a person—"
"A designation—Red something—"
Caelum listened without really listening.
Noise.
Static.
The only thread that mattered pulsed against his ribs, warm and steady.
Lira leaned into him a little more than she'd meant to. Her cheeks burned with shame at her own weakness, but every time her knees threatened to buckle, his hand tightened around her waist just enough to keep her upright.
She hated how much safer that made her feel.
She hated how much she needed it.
And hated most that some quiet, traitorous part of her… didn't hate it at all.
They reached the Dorm Nine corridor. The moment they stepped inside, the noise of the courtyard dulled, replaced by the softer chaos of panicking rejects.
"Did you hear?"
"They're saying someone triggered a Red—"
"No way, those are just myths."
"I heard Dominion agents are all over the infirmary—"
"Wait, isn't that where Lira went—?"
Heads turned when they saw them.
Lira, pale and shaken.
Caelum, expression calm, presence heavy.
Silence slid across the room like a blade.
No one asked what happened.
No one dared.
Caelum led Lira to her room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fists clenched on the blanket to stop them shaking. The bond hummed like a quiet, invisible string between them—soft but undeniable.
Marenne closed the door and locked it.
Jalen hovered near the window, peeking between the curtains as if expecting the Dominion Council to drop from the sky like judgment birds.
"Those bells…" he whispered. "They've been going for, what… ten minutes? That's bad. That's— that's ancient-war-protocol bad!"
Marenne pushed her glasses up, jaw tight.
"Red Designation," she muttered. "It has to be. That pattern's in the old academy codex."
Lira swallowed.
"W-What does it mean?"
Marenne turned to Caelum.
"You already know, don't you?"
Caelum met her gaze.
"Yes."
Lira's heart tripped.
She licked her lips.
"C-Caelum… what is it?"
He took a moment to consider how much truth she needed.
Then chose:
"Red Designation: Category Red Anomaly."
Jalen squeaked.
Marenne cursed.
Lira blinked.
"Anomaly…? Like the tear?"
"Not exactly," Caelum said.
He leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed, Thread-Sense quietly scanning the academy around them even as he spoke.
"A Category Red anomaly is not just a tear, or a beast, or a corrupted sigil. It's an event that changes how the academy operates. Something that cannot be categorized using existing protocols."
Marenne's eyes narrowed.
"And they triggered it for…?"
Caelum looked at her.
"Me."
The room went quiet.
Lira stared at him.
"Y-You mean… this is all because…"
"Yes," he said simply.
Jalen slid down the wall, clutching his head.
"We're doomed. We're doomed and we didn't even get to graduate. I didn't even get a proper first kiss. The gods are cruel."
"Focus," Marenne snapped, though her own hands trembled slightly.
Lira swallowed hard.
"Is it… because of the synchronization?"
"In part," Caelum said.
His gaze shifted slightly, as if looking through the walls.
"They would have preferred the bond broken. Failing that, they wanted it contained. Instead, I made it irreversible."
He looked back at Lira.
"From their perspective, that makes both of us an anomaly cluster."
Her shoulders tensed.
"I—I didn't ask for this."
"I know."
"I—I didn't want to be part of—"
"I know," he repeated.
His voice didn't soften, but something in it lost a degree of sharpness.
"You are not at fault."
She blinked rapidly, tears pricking.
"Then whose fault is it?"
"Mine," Caelum said.
The answer came without hesitation.
"And theirs."
Marenne frowned.
"Theirs?"
Caelum nodded.
"They insisted on interfering with something they didn't understand. They forced a confrontation. They knew the risk and chose it anyway."
He tilted his head.
"They made their choice. I made mine."
"And what choice was that?" Marenne asked quietly.
He looked at Lira.
"I chose not to let them take you."
Her heart squeezed.
A strange mix of terror and warmth twisted in her chest, and the bond thrummed in response—growing just a little more solid.
Unacceptable, a rational part of Caelum thought.
Necessary, another part decided.
The bells finally fell silent.
An echo lingered in the stone.
Five seconds passed.
Ten.
Then—
A different sound.
A single, sharp chime.
Headmaster's summons.
Caelum's eyes narrowed.
"They're ready."
"Ready?" Jalen croaked. "Ready for what?"
"Control," Caelum said. "Or the illusion of it."
He pushed off the wall.
Lira grabbed his sleeve.
"W-Wait! Where are you going?"
He glanced down at her hand, then at her face.
"To the tower."
Her grip tightened.
"They'll— they'll treat you like a threat—"
"They already do."
"That's not—" Her voice broke. "That's not fair."
"Correct."
A faint, humorless ghost of a smile brushed his lips.
"Which means their decisions will be inefficient."
Marenne crossed her arms.
"You're just going to walk into the Dominion Tower again? After locking the bond right under their diagnostic sigil?"
"Yes."
"Without a plan?"
He blinked.
"I always have a plan."
"And if they try to separate you from Lira by force?"
Caelum's eyes cooled.
"They won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
He considered that for a moment.
Then told the truth.
"Because if they try, more than one seal in this academy will fail."
Marenne's mouth went dry.
"You'd… you'd risk it?"
"No," Caelum said.
"I simply won't stop it."
Lira shivered.
"Don't… don't say things like that."
He looked at her.
For a quiet, heavy moment, neither spoke.
She finally managed:
"Caelum… don't let them take you."
His lashes lowered for a heartbeat.
The bond pulsed.
"I don't intend to be taken by anyone."
He turned to leave.
But as he reached for the door, Lira said, too quickly:
"Wait."
He paused.
"I— I want to come."
Silence.
Jalen made a strangled noise.
"Lira are you INSANE—"
Marenne didn't speak, but her eyes widened.
Caelum turned back slowly.
"Why?"
Lira swallowed, meeting his gaze.
"Because it's my fault too."
"It isn't."
"Because they'll talk about me like I'm an object," she pushed on, voice trembling. "Like I'm a specimen. A mistake. A spell gone wrong. And I can't— I can't— I don't want to be discussed like I'm not in the room."
Her hands clenched in the blanket.
"And because if this bond is mine too… then I want to stand next to you while they judge it."
There it was.
A flicker.
Not just fear.
Resolve.
The smallest shard of steel behind the frightened eyes.
Caelum saw it.
Thread-Sense flickered—her bond-thread glowed a fraction brighter.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
The entity's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
"…threads bring strength…
but also weakness…"
He opened them again.
"You will not speak," he said.
She nodded quickly.
"You will stand beside me," he continued, "not behind me."
She hesitated—
then nodded again.
"And you will not run," he finished.
Her throat bobbed.
"I won't."
He watched her for three heartbeats.
Then extended a hand.
"Come, then."
She slid off the bed, legs still a little unsteady, and took his hand.
It was warm.
Too warm.
She hated that.
She loved that.
She didn't know which terrified her more.
Marenne pushed her glasses up with a sigh.
"I'm coming too."
Jalen flailed.
"What? No— why— we don't all have to die together—"
"We aren't dying," Marenne snapped, then glanced at Caelum. "Probably."
Caelum said nothing.
He opened the door and walked out, Lira at his side, Marenne and Jalen trailing behind.
Dorm Nine watched them go with wide, silent eyes.
Wordless.
Uneasy.
Afraid.
For the first time, the useless dorm had produced something the academy could not categorize.
And more frighteningly—
Something it could not control.
The Walk to Judgment
The path to the Dominion Tower felt different today.
The air wasn't just heavy. It was… layered.
Caelum could see it now with every step.
Threads running through the stones.
Threads coiling around the tower spire.
Threads gathering like storm clouds toward the Council chamber.
Stability threads.
Authority threads.
Fear threads.
The entire academy's systems were converging.
Lira walked close enough that their shoulders brushed occasionally. Every accidental touch sent tiny sparks through the bond, emotions leaking in both directions—her anxiety, his calm, her fragile trust, his cold clarity.
She tried not to drown in the contrast.
Marenne scribbled notes even as she walked, muttering under her breath.
"Red Designation… Proto-Sigil bearer… bonded anchor… direct entity contact…" She glanced up at Caelum. "Do you ever think about what a nightmare you are for any statistical model?"
"No," he said.
"You should. It's impressive."
Jalen dragged his feet, periodically whispering prayers to any god, entity, or forgotten relic that might be listening.
The Dominion Tower doors opened before they knocked.
That was new.
Caelum stepped inside.
The others followed.
The Council Sees the Bond
The Council chamber felt colder than before.
Same circular structure.
Same seven seats.
Same shifting wall sigils.
But the atmosphere had thickened—less like a courtroom, more like a war room.
Six seats were occupied.
The seventh remained empty.
Voss stood again.
Her chains hung heavier.
Her eyes went first to Caelum.
Then to Lira.
The reaction was subtle.
A tightening of the jaw.
A slight narrowing of the eyes.
"The bonded one," she murmured.
Lira flinched at the label.
Caelum felt it.
So did the room.
He stepped slightly in front of her.
Not enough to hide her.
Enough to remind them who she stood beside.
Voss's gaze sharpened.
"Caelum Veylor," she said. "You were informed that the Council needed to speak with you—alone."
Caelum tilted his head.
"You summoned the anomaly. The bond is part of that anomaly."
His eyes cooled.
"Isolating factors in an interconnected system is inefficient."
Halven frowned.
"You brought the girl into the chamber. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
"Yes."
Yuren hissed:
"She could snap. Turn feral. The entity could use her as a conduit."
Caelum's voice was calm.
"It won't."
Rhaiden slammed a hand against his armrest.
"How in the abyss can you be so—"
"Because I won't allow it," Caelum said.
Rhaiden's mouth snapped closed.
For a moment, only the humming of the sigils filled the chamber.
Voss exhaled slowly.
"Lira Ainsworth," she said, eyes shifting. "Step forward."
Lira swallowed.
Caelum's fingers brushed her wrist—lightly, almost imperceptibly.
It was enough.
She stepped forward.
One pace.
Two.
The Council watched her with the uneasy fascination of scholars staring at a bomb.
"Do you understand what has been done to you?" Voss asked.
Lira's voice trembled.
"I… I think so."
"Explain it."
Her throat tightened.
"It's… a Threadbond. Between me and Caelum. The entity touched me when it reached for him. He… synchronized it."
Yuren whispered:
"Voluntary…"
Marenne's quill almost snapped.
Voss's gaze flicked back to Caelum.
"You did this knowing it was irreversible."
"Yes."
"You knew it might tie her life to yours."
"Yes."
"You understood it might alter her sigil evolution permanently."
"Yes."
"And you did it anyway."
He considered that.
"Yes."
Lira stared at him for half a second.
Then looked back at the Council.
"I… I agreed."
"Did you?" Voss asked softly. "Or did you simply cling to the only stable point in the storm?"
Lira's lips parted.
That hurt.
Caelum's voice cut through before she could answer.
"It doesn't matter."
Voss shifted toward him.
"Doesn't it?"
"No," Caelum said.
"Because consent or not, the result is the same. The bond exists. It holds. It will not be broken."
His eyes hardened.
"And if you attempt to tear it apart, you will damage both ends."
Rhaiden scoffed.
"We have methods of—"
"You don't," Caelum said quietly.
The room stilled.
"Your diagnostic sigils already failed. Your separation protocols were designed for lesser bonds—corrupted lineages, cursed weapons, parasitic sigils. This is none of those things."
He stepped forward.
Threads swirled faintly.
"This bond runs through me. Through her. Through the entity beneath the academy. Through the seal itself. You are not trained to handle this degree of conceptual entanglement."
He met Voss's eyes.
"You are out of your depth."
The admission hung in the air.
Halven's fingers dug into the armrests.
"…We cannot simply ignore a Category Red anomaly."
Caelum nodded.
"You won't."
Voss's eyes narrowed.
"What are you suggesting?"
He let the chamber feel his calm.
"I am suggesting you acknowledge reality," he said.
"You can't extinguish this. You can only manage it."
Lira's heart hammered.
"What does that mean?" Yuren asked.
"It means," Caelum said, "you make a choice."
He raised a hand—
and for the first time, openly let the threads show.
White filaments bled into visibility around his fingers, glowing softly, wrapping the air like silk smoke.
The Council sucked in a collective breath.
Lira's bond-thread pulsed in response, a shimmering line stretching from her chest to his.
The entity stirred far below, a tremor rippling through the floor.
Caelum's voice was quiet.
"You can treat me as a threat. Chain me. Isolate me. Attack me. That will destabilize the bond, loosen the seals, and accelerate the entity's awakening."
He moved his hand, tracing the line between him and Lira—visible now, a faint luminous thread in the air.
"Or," he said, "you can recognize that I am the only one who has successfully engaged with it without causing a collapse."
The room held its breath.
"You want control," he continued.
"But you don't have it. Not over this. Not anymore."
He lowered his hand.
"What you do have," he said,
"is a choice between managing an anomaly that talks to you…"
His eyes glowed faintly.
"…or provoking one that only answers to me."
Silence.
The sigils dimmed.
Voss stared at him for a long, long time.
Then she said something no one expected.
"…Leave."
Halven jerked.
"Maelivara—"
"Leave," she repeated, never taking her eyes off Caelum. "All of you."
The other Councilors hesitated—then rose, one by one. Some shot Caelum looks of fury. Others, fear. One or two, reluctant respect.
The doors to the side corridor opened.
They filed out.
Leaving the chamber empty—
except for Caelum, Lira, Marenne, Jalen, and Voss.
The head of the Dominion folded her wings slowly, chains clinking in the quiet.
For the first time, her voice had no performative weight. No courtly resonance.
Just exhaustion.
"You terrify them," she said.
"I know," Caelum replied.
"You terrify me."
He considered that.
Acceptable.
"You walk into anomaly cores like you're visiting a market," Voss said. "You bind yourself to an unknown entity. You synchronize a bond we could barely detect. You threaten our power structure without blinking."
Her gaze dropped to Lira.
"And you tie someone else into it. A girl who would have died without you, yes—but who also may die because of you."
Lira flinched.
Caelum spoke before she could break.
"She was dying either way," he said.
Voss looked back at him.
"Explain."
"If the entity had chosen her directly as its conduit," Caelum said, "her mind would have shattered. She survived because she was beside me."
He let the truth hang.
"If I walk away," he added,
"she doesn't live long."
Lira stared at him, shocked.
He didn't look at her.
Voss's expression tightened.
"So you tethered her to yourself."
"Yes."
"Was that mercy?" she asked.
"No," Caelum said calmly.
"It was efficiency."
Lira's chest hurt.
She knew she should be angry at that answer.
She should feel used. Reduced.
But the bond translated more than words.
She felt his priorities.
His clarity.
His refusal to lie to her.
He wasn't using her as a pawn.
He'd… folded her into his territory.
And for someone like Caelum…
That meant something far more dangerous than affection.
Voss walked down from the raised platform, closing the distance between them. Up close, the lines around her eyes looked deeper.
"I don't trust you," she said.
"You shouldn't," Caelum replied.
"But," she went on, "I trust even less in our ability to handle what you are."
A beat.
"So here is what will happen, Caelum Veylor."
She squared her shoulders.
"From this day forward, your classification within the academy will change."
Lira's heart skipped.
"Classification…?"
Voss's voice was cold.
"Caelum Veylor," she said formally,
"you are now designated as a Category Red Contained Anomaly."
Jalen whimpered.
"That sounds bad."
Marenne rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Oh, it's absolutely bad."
Voss continued:
"You will be monitored. Tracked. Your movements within the academy restricted by protocol."
Lira's pulse spiked.
"And," Voss added, looking directly at Lira now,
"Lira Ainsworth will be listed as a bound stability-anchor."
Lira stared.
"I—I don't know what that means."
"It means," Voss said, "that as long as Caelum remains stable, you will be allowed to live. Train. Learn. As a student."
Lira's throat tightened.
"And if he… isn't?"
Voss didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
Caelum spoke.
"He will remain stable."
Voss raised a brow.
"Confident."
"Accurate," he said.
They stared at each other.
Then Voss stepped back.
"Classes will resume," she said. "The academy will pretend things are normal."
Her gaze hardened.
"But nothing is normal anymore. The entity is awake enough to whisper. The seals are fracturing. And now we have a Threadbearer walking the halls."
Her eyes flicked once more to Lira.
"And a girl whose dreams we will be praying never turn red."
Lira swallowed.
Caelum's presence intensified, bond tightening, as if shielding her from the weight of those words.
Voss's wings shifted.
"Go," she said.
They turned to leave.
But just before they reached the door, she spoke one last time.
"Caelum."
He looked back.
Voss's eyes were sharp again.
"If you are going to break this world," she said quietly,
"at least make it worth the collapse."
He considered that.
Then smiled—
just a fraction, cold and amused.
"I don't break things," he said.
"I unravel them."
And he walked out.
Outside the tower, the sky over Ashthorne flickered.
Far beneath the academy, in the lowest sealed chamber, the entity stirred—
amused.
"…emerges…"
"…little bearer emerges…"
The threads shivered.
Volume 1 moved one step closer to its true beginning.