CHAPTER 39 — Storms and Schedules
The rain finally let up on the walk back to the dorms.
It didn't stop.
It just downgraded from "the sky is having opinions" to "the sky is sulking," a steady mist that blurred the ward-lights and left everything smelling like wet moss and metal.
Aiden's clothes clung to him in cold patches. His arms ached from Elowen's drills. His bones ached from the resonance circle. Even his storm felt tired, coiled low and heavy instead of pacing.
The pup, of course, bounced.
It trotted at his heel, paws flashing with tiny sparks each time it hit a puddle, tail up like this was the best weather that had ever weathered.
Myra dragged her feet beside him, cloak hood half-up, half-falling off. "So," she said, voice scratchy, "on a scale of one to ten… how doomed are we?"
Runa answered without missing a step. "That depends. How often does the marsh thing 'learn' us?"
"Don't say it like that," Myra groaned. "I feel like it's doing homework on our souls."
"It is," Nellie murmured.
They all glanced at her.
She was walking between Aiden and Runa, blanket finally traded for a dry cloak, curls frizzing around her face from the damp. Her Verdant mark glowed faintly under her collarbone—so faintly that only someone looking for it would see.
"The threads tug," she said quietly, hand pressed to her chest. "Not as hard as before. But… they know where we are now. Who we are. It feels like… like someone keeps checking a knot they tied."
Aiden's storm gave a single uneasy pulse.
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder lightly. "We'll make it regret tying anything to us."
Myra pointed at him with both hands. "Yes. Confidence. Very good. Love that for us."
Runa snorted. "Big words for someone who nearly tackled herself into a fire ring."
"That was tactical improvisation and you know it."
The familiar bickering helped.
It didn't erase Elowen's warning—
if you do not grow faster than it, it will take one of you—
but it wrapped it in something human.
By the time they reached their dorm building, the worst of the tremor in Aiden's hands had faded.
The common room was warm.
Braziers glowed in the corners, painting the stone walls in soft orange. Someone had dropped a stack of damp cloaks by the door, and the kettle on the side table hissed faint steam that smelled faintly of mint leaves and something sweeter.
The space was mostly empty—most first-years were still trapped in post-trial briefings or comparing results. Aiden was grateful for the quiet.
The moment the door closed behind them, Myra groaned and fell face-first onto the nearest couch.
"I am no longer storm-adjacent," she declared into the cushion. "I am puddle."
The pup immediately hopped up and climbed onto her back like she was a hill it had been promised. It curled up, satisfied, making Myra oof.
"Traitor," she muttered without moving. "You're supposed to comfort the traumatized, not use us as furniture."
Nellie laughed under her breath and drifted toward the kettle. "Tea?"
"Yes," Aiden and Myra said at once.
Runa tilted her head. "Do dwarves get a say?"
"You get extra," Nellie said.
Runa considered that. "Healers are wise."
Aiden shrugged off his damp cloak and hung it on one of the wall hooks. The motion tugged at the thorn-patterns burned faintly into his ribs. They pulsed once in protest, then settled. His storm lay low and watchful, like a dog resting with one eye open.
His gaze drifted to the small wooden board nailed beside the door.
SCHEDULES — COHORTS
Ink had been added since the last time he'd checked. A new column, written in precise, neat script:
COHORT IX — PROVISIONAL
Below it, the days were broken into blocks.
MORNING:
– Stormbound Control (Elowen) — Aiden Raikos
– Scout-Binder Fieldcraft (Captain Ethrielle Windstep) — Myra Lynell
– Verdant Healing Foundations (Master Oshen) — Elenora Tinkwhistle
– Vanguard Stoneguard Drills (Master Brakk) — Runa Ironjaw
AFTERNOON:
– Cohort IX Tactical Sessions (Rotating Faculty)
– Resonance Studies (Elowen, by invite)
EVENING:
– Library Study / Free Training (Restricted Wards)
– Marsh Briefings (when summoned)
Aiden read it twice.
Something about seeing their names stacked together made everything feel more real. More solid. Not just a handful of kids who got out of some terrible tests—something the Academy had written into its bones.
Myra rolled over enough to see him. "Well? How bad is it?"
He stepped aside so they could all see.
Myra whistled. "Oof. Look at us. Real students. With real classes. And absolutely fake free time."
Nellie handed her a steaming mug. "You weren't going to use free time for resting, anyway."
"Obviously not," Myra said. "But it's the principle."
Runa studied the board silently.
Then she tapped one line with a finger. "Marsh briefings," she said. "That's new."
Aiden's mouth went dry.
"They're planning something," he said.
Nellie hugged her tea close. "Elowen said we wouldn't face it alone. That means at some point… we're going to face it."
The pup's ears flicked, as if it understood enough of that to worry. It hopped off Myra's back and padded over to the board, squinting at the ink like it could read it into submission.
Aiden ruffled its ears. Sparks tickled his fingertips.
"We'll be ready," he said.
His voice shook a little on ready.
No one called him on it.
They spent the next little while pretending things were normal.
Myra complained about her track captain's "judgy eyebrows" and then admitted the woman had also quietly corrected her knife grip in a way that made everything suddenly feel easier. Runa listened, occasionally dropping short, brutal stories about Stoneguard drills she'd watched back home.
Nellie described her first healer lesson—Master Oshen's calm presence, the strange, mirrored bowls he'd used to show them how broken bone looked in Verdant sight. Her face lit up when she talked about it, the fear and exhaustion briefly replaced with that fierce, bright curiosity that had made her sign up to fix people in the first place.
Aiden tried to describe Elowen's solo storm training without making it sound as terrifying as it was.
"Stillness is hard," he said.
Myra snorted. "Yeah, no kidding."
"No, I mean—" he searched for words. "Holding the storm back isn't like… closing a door. It's more like… standing in a river that wants to rip you off your feet and convincing it to go around you instead."
Nellie nodded slowly. "You're redirecting."
"Yeah." He rubbed his chest absently. "Only if I misjudge, people get electrocuted instead of splashed."
Runa's eyes flicked to him, thoughtful. "Then we learn where to stand."
He looked up. "What?"
"In the river," she said. "If you're the rock it breaks around, then we learn how close we can stand and not get swept. Where to pull you if you start slipping. Where to anchor you."
Myra pointed her mug at Runa. "That was… actually poetic and terrifying."
"I'm versatile," Runa said.
Nellie smiled over her tea.
The warmth of the room, the low hum of conversation, the way the pup eventually fell asleep half on Aiden's foot and half on the rug—it all layered over the earlier fear.
Not erasing it.
Just giving it context.
They were scared.
They were also here.
Together.
A soft chime sounded from the corridor.
Aiden glanced up.
A small wisp of green light drifted under the door—a message thread. It hovered at eye level, pulsing gently.
Myra grimaced. "If that's more 'special training,' I vote we all pretend to be rocks. Unconscious rocks."
Nellie set her mug down carefully. "Do rocks snore?"
"Yes," Myra said. "Loudly."
Runa shook her head. "Open it, Raikos."
Aiden reached out.
The thread touched his fingers and bloomed into writing, hanging in the air like ink suspended in water.
Cohort IX
– Report to Verdant Hall tomorrow at first bell for strategic briefing.
– Attire: field leathers, cloaks, travel packs.
– Purpose: Outer Marsh observation assignment (supervised).
– Do not share details outside your Cohort.
– Elowen Thorne
Aiden read the words in silence.
Nellie did too.
Her hands shook.
"You said we'd have time," she whispered.
"I said you would train," Elowen's earlier voice echoed in his memory. "I did not say the world would wait."
"It's supervised," Runa said. "And observation. We're not hunting it."
"We're going near it," Myra said tightly. "That's like putting lightning in a bottle and saying 'don't worry, we're just holding it.'"
Nellie's gaze dropped to the pup.
Its eyes were half-open now, watching the glowing script with unnerving focus.
Aiden's storm stirred.
"We can say no," he said.
The others looked at him.
He shrugged, throat tight. "Can't we? If we tell Elowen we're not ready—"
"She already knows we're not ready," Runa cut in. "That's why it's supervised. That's why we go now, before it gets worse. Before it stops being observation and starts being siege."
Nellie hugged herself. "What if someone dies?"
"Someone will," Runa said quietly. "Someday. Somewhere. That's what the marsh does. That's what Aberrations do. The question is… do we go in unprepared later, or less unprepared now?"
Myra blew out a breath so hard her hair fluttered. "I hate how that makes sense."
She scrubbed her face with both hands. "I also hate that if Elowen asked me directly, I'd say yes while still screaming internally."
Nellie looked at Aiden.
He didn't like how much her eyes asked him to make this decision.
He didn't like that part of him wanted to.
He'd already died once for someone else's sake. The idea of walking toward something that might ask that again made his bones go hollow.
But he could feel the threads Nellie had described, faint now, but there—pulling outward, toward the marsh. Toward something old and hurting.
If they did nothing, it wouldn't stop.
It would come.
"Okay." His voice came out hoarse. He swallowed and tried again. "Okay. We go."
Nellie inhaled sharply.
Myra's jaw set.
Runa nodded once like she'd been waiting for that.
Aiden lifted his hand.
The message thread folded neatly back into itself, leaving only a faint sparkle in the air that sank into his skin.
"First bell," he said. "We meet in the Hall. Field gear. Full packs."
Myra straightened. "We're going to need snacks. And bandages. And backup bandages. And—"
"Sleep," Runa said.
"Sleep is for people who aren't going on near-death observation field trips."
"Sleep," Runa repeated.
Myra opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Sighed. "Fine. responsible dwarf is responsible. I'll lie down and stare at the ceiling with my eyes closed. That counts."
Nellie set her mug down and stood slowly. "I'll… check our packs. Make sure we have enough salves and wraps."
Runa rose too. "I'll see if Stoneguard has spare bracers that fit you. You're going to get scraped on something."
Nellie's cheeks pinked faintly. "You don't have to—"
Runa looked offended. "I do. You are terrible at armor."
Aiden knelt to scoop up the pup.
It blinked at him, sleepy and sparking.
"We're going back out there," he murmured. "Where we found you."
A tiny shiver ran through its frame.
Then it nudged his chin with its forehead, very deliberately, and let out the smallest crackle of sound.
Agreement.
Or challenge.
Or both.
Aiden stood.
Thunder rolled far off over the marsh, too distant to be weather. His storm trembled and then, slowly, steadied.
"I won't let it take any of you," he whispered.
He wasn't entirely sure whether he was promising the pup, the Cohort, or himself.
Maybe all three.
Up in their bunks later, when the common room had gone still and the braziers dimmed, Aiden lay awake listening to rain tap against the wards.
Myra's soft snore drifted from the bunk across, a little hitch at the end like she was arguing with something in a dream. Runa breathed slow and steady above. Nellie murmured occasionally, the cadence of healer terms spilling out even in sleep.
The pup was a warm ball at Aiden's feet.
He stared at the ceiling.
Tried to breathe slow.
Tried to hold his storm level.
Somewhere past the walls, past the trees, past the shimmer of wards, something huge and old turned its attention toward the Academy again.
Aiden felt it like a pressure at the edge of his thoughts.
The Fog Warden.
Watching.
Waiting.
Studying.
A whisper brushed the back of his mind—
not as words.
As intent.
Not yet.
His throat went dry.
He swallowed, turned onto his side, and curled one arm around the pup, pulling it closer.
Its small heart thudded steady against his wrist.
The storm inside him eased.
For now.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep came slowly, threaded with the sound of distant thunder and the knowledge that, at first bell, Cohort Nine would walk into the edge of the marsh—
where the world had begun changing
long before they arrived,
and where, one way or another,
it was waiting for them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hey everyone — quick update.
Reborn with the Beastbinder System was rejected on WebNovel for "not being profitable," so I'm posting it here on Royal Road instead, where readers actually care about story first.
If you're enjoying Aiden, the lightning pup, or the world so far, the best ways to support the series here are:
📚 Follow/Favorite the story
⭐ Rate or Review when you feel ready
💬 Comment — even short ones help a ton
These things tell the RR algorithm that the book deserves to be seen.
Thank you for reading and giving this story a real chance.
Let's build something great here.