### Chapter 11: Detention & The Storm-Bound
Detention was held in the old Stormwatch Tower, a needle-thin spire that stabbed straight into the eclipse moon's shadow.
Only one room was ever used: the Observation Deck, a circular chamber of black glass open on all sides to the howling wind. No doors. You portaled in, you portaled out. Or you jumped. No one had ever jumped.
Professor Hawke portaled them in at dusk and left without a word.
Kael and Riven materialised on the polished floor at the exact same moment as another pair.
The rivals.
They were already there, leaning against opposite railings like they owned the place.
**Cillian Vale** – Soren's older brother, werewolf alpha-in-waiting, built like a siege weapon wrapped in academy blacks. Hair the colour of winter wheat, eyes the same molten amber as Soren's, but colder. A storm-grey tether mark circled his left ring finger, pulsing like a heartbeat.
**Lysander Nox** – pureblood vampire, House Nox (eternal rivals to House Thorne). Tall and pale even by vampire standards, with waist-length silver hair braided tight and eyes the colour of frostbite. His tether mark was identical to Cillian's, only in midnight blue. The air around him smelled of ozone and old grudges.
Their bond was famous. Infamous, really.
They had formed it deliberately, in senior year, during a blood-moon ritual everyone still whispered about. Storm and night fused on purpose. They were the golden standard every professor pointed to when warning students *not* to force a bond.
And they hated Riven on principle.
Cillian's grin was slow and sharp. "Well. If it isn't the accident and the prince."
Lysander's voice was silk over broken glass. "Eclipse-bound by *mistake*. How… quaint."
Riven stepped half in front of Kael, shoulders squared. "Vale. Nox. I see Hawke's taste in punishment is as refined as ever."
Kael felt the bond flare—protective, possessive. He put a hand on Riven's back, grounding. "We're all stuck here. Might as well not kill each other."
Cillian laughed, low and rough. "Who said anything about killing? We're just here to clean." He gestured to the floor—covered in centuries of dust, shattered glass, and what looked suspiciously like dried blood. "By hand. No magic. Eight hours. Sunrise release."
Lysander flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Try to keep up, little eclipse."
The portal winked out, leaving the four of them alone with the storm.
The Observation Deck was brutal in its simplicity: no furniture, no shelter, just the circular floor and the endless wind. The eclipse moon hung huge and low, half its face eaten by shadow, bathing everything in bruised violet light.
They worked in tense silence for the first hour.
Kael and Riven took the eastern arc; Cillian and Lysander the west.
Every sweep of the broom sent glass shards skittering. Every breath tasted of ice and metal. The storm outside pressed against invisible wards, lightning crawling over the glass like living things.
Then Cillian spoke, casual as poison.
"Tell me, Voss. When you bled out on that street, did you beg the shadows to save you? Or did they just… take?"
Kael's broom stilled.
Riven's head snapped up, fangs lengthening. "Watch your mouth."
Lysander smiled, slow and cruel. "He asked a question, love. Let the human answer."
Kael's grip on the broom handle turned white. "I didn't beg," he said quietly. "They tried anyway. And failed. That's why I'm here."
Cillian's eyes narrowed. "Accidents don't form perfect tethers. You stole something that wasn't meant for you."
Riven dropped his broom. It clattered like a gunshot. "Say that again."
Lysander stepped forward, placing a hand on Cillian's chest—calming, but his own tether mark flared storm-grey. "We're all bonded here, Thorne. Some of us chose it. Some of us earned it. Some of us simply… fell into it and dragged an entire bloodline down with us."
The wind howled louder, as if the tower itself was listening.
Riven's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried over the storm. "You think choice makes yours stronger? You *carved* your bond with ritual blades and blood oaths. We were forged in death and desperation. Tell me which one you think will break first."
Cillian's grin vanished. The storm-grey mark on his finger ignited, lightning crackling along his arms. Lysander's eyes bled to pure white.
Kael felt his own tether scar burn in answer—black and crimson threads racing under his skin.
For one terrible second the Observation Deck balanced on a knife's edge.
Then Lysander laughed—cold, beautiful, cutting.
"Sunrise is in seven hours," he said. "Plenty of time to find out."
He turned back to his section of floor.
Cillian followed, but not before throwing over his shoulder, "Try not to let your little accident get you killed twice, Voss."
Riven's entire body vibrated with barely-leashed violence.
Kael caught his wrist. The bond surged between them—fierce, protective, *terrified*.
"They want a reaction," Kael murmured. "Don't give them one."
Riven's eyes were still fixed on the rivals' backs. "They don't get to speak to you like that."
"They don't get to speak to *you* like that either." Kael stepped closer, until the wind couldn't fit between them. "We're not them. We didn't choose this to prove something. We just… survived it."
Slowly, painfully, Riven's shoulders dropped. He pressed his forehead to Kael's.
"I hate that they're right about one thing," he whispered. "You never should have had to bleed for this."
Kael kissed him—quick, fierce, tasting storm and starlight.
"Then let's make sure the next time I bleed, it's on our terms."
Far across the deck, lightning crawled over Cillian's and Lysander's joined hands, their storm-grey tether glowing like a warning.
Eight hours until sunrise.
Seven hours fifty-nine minutes until the real fight began.
**To be continued…**