CHAPTER 40A — Dawn Over the Marsh
Aiden woke before the bell.
Not because of a nightmare this time.
Because of a feeling.
Lightning sat under his ribs like a held breath, not flaring, not calm. Waiting. Listening to something he couldn't hear yet.
He stared at the ceiling for a long heartbeat.
The dorm was dim, washed in the faint green of the rune-etched window. The air smelled like old stone, clean linen, and the ghost of last night's herbal steam from the common kettle.
Something warm and small was pressed against his side.
The pup snored.
It lay on its back, paws flopped bonelessly, belly exposed, tongue sticking out just enough to make it ridiculous. Tiny sparks snapped lazily between its toes, flickering in time with its breathing.
Aiden exhaled, the knot in his chest loosening a fraction.
Not Hollow stone. Not trial mist. Not the Gate's eye.
Just a dorm.
Just his storm.
Just the pup.
He rolled carefully onto his side so he didn't dislodge it, then slid his feet to the floor. Old wood creaked under his weight. Across the room, the other cots were shadowed shapes.
Myra's was a chaos of blankets.
Half of them had migrated to the floor, where a boot guarded them like a loyal dog. Myra herself was sprawled diagonally, hair a tangle, one arm dangling off the edge as if she'd fallen mid-argument and never finished the sentence.
Nellie slept curled in on herself, hands tucked under her chin. Even in rest, her fingers twitched like they were counting pulses only she could feel. A faint, soft glow pulsed under her collarbone where the Verdant mark sat, steady as a heartbeat.
Runa lay on her back, braid stretched neatly along the pillow. Armor sat in ordered pieces at the foot of her bed, polished and stacked. Her expression was the same asleep or awake: solid, uncompromising. A hammer propped within easy reach.
Aiden let himself watch them for a moment.
His team.
Cohort Nine, officially.
Stormthread, if he believed the Academy whispers that had already started.
He didn't know when the name had first been said, only that by the third day after the trials he'd heard someone mutter, "That stormthread lot," as they passed.
He'd pretended not to like it.
He absolutely liked it.
The storm under his ribs shifted, sensing his attention on the others. Not jealous.
Protective.
He stood carefully, the pup rolling into the warm spot he left behind with a satisfied huff. Aiden pulled on his trousers, shirt, then the Academy cloak with its new insignia stitched near the shoulder: a thorn-wreathed bolt of lightning, small but hard to ignore.
The fabric brushed his Thorn Marks when he fastened the clasp.
They pulsed once in answer, faint-green over bone.
Right. Today.
First sanctioned step outside the wards.
The Outer Marsh.
He dragged a hand through his hair and stepped toward the washbasin.
Behind him, a voice rasped softly, "You're stomping like someone being chased."
Aiden glanced back.
Runa's eyes were open, catching the faint light.
"Didn't want to wake you," he murmured.
"You didn't," she said. "The tension did."
He made a face. "That obvious?"
She pushed herself upright, braid sliding over one shoulder. "To me? Yes." A beat. "To the pup? Also yes."
As if summoned, the cub flopped over, blinked, then rolled until it fell off the bed. It landed with a soft thump, shook itself, and trotted to Aiden's feet, circling twice like it was checking for leaks.
Aiden scooped it up and let its weight settle in the crook of his arm. Sparks tickled his elbow.
"Big day," he said quietly.
Runa grunted, reaching for the first piece of armor. "Big swamp."
"That too."
He splashed cold water on his face, letting the shock bite through the leftover fog of sleep. In the warped mirror glass, his eyes caught the faintest flicker of static—stormlight threaded through brown.
He still wasn't used to seeing it.
"Do you think they're ready?" he asked.
Runa buckled a vambrace, leather straps whispering. "Them? Yes."
"And me?"
She considered.
"You are less likely to do something stupid with your power now," she said. "That's good."
"That's a very gentle way to say 'you used to be a walking hazard.'"
"I didn't say used to," Runa replied calmly.
He snorted.
Myra groaned.
"Are you people already having conversations? Before dawn?" Her voice was muffled in the pillow. "This is a crime."
Nellie stirred, blinking. "What's happening? Are we under attack? Did I oversleep? Am I dead?"
"Not yet," Runa said.
Aiden gestured with the pup. "Sorry. Big swamp day."
That woke Myra up.
She bolted upright. "Marsh day?"
"Marsh day," Aiden confirmed.
Myra came fully awake like someone had flipped a switch. "Right. Right. Swamp. Mud. Death fog. Lightning Warden. Our first official outing as Stormthread. This is fine. This is all fine."
Nellie sat up slowly, blankets pooling around her waist. Her hand went automatically to the Verdant mark at her chest.
"The pull?" Aiden asked.
She closed her eyes for a second.
"It knows," she whispered. "Something knows we're coming. It's… quieter. But not gone."
The storm under Aiden's ribs answered that like a low, uneasy growl.
"Then we'll go see what it wants," Myra said briskly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Preferably with heavy adult supervision."
Runa tugged her chestplate on, expression thoughtful. "Adults are not always safer."
"Comforting, Runa," Myra muttered. "Really soothing."
Nellie smiled faintly, some of the sleep still clinging to her eyes. "At least we'll be together."
Aiden met her gaze.
"Yeah," he said. "We will."
---
The Academy at dawn felt like a different world.
Mist clung to the lower terraces, pooled in hollows between stone paths, curled around the bases of rune-lit lanterns. The sky was a bruised gray-blue that hadn't decided yet whether it wanted to be morning or storm.
They walked in a loose line.
Aiden at the front, cloak pulled tight, pup trotting at his heel.
Myra beside him, whistling tunelessly and spinning one of her knives around her fingers with the kind of speed that made most people nervous.
Nellie tucked between them and Runa, healer's satchel strapped across her chest, vials clinking quietly with each step.
Runa at the back, hammer slung over her shoulder, eyes moving, counting exits and threats that weren't there yet.
Other students watched from balconies and stairways as they passed.
Some eyebrows rose at the sight of all four together in full gear.
Some faces tightened in something like worry.
More than one gaze dropped to the pup.
"Is that thing really going out there?" someone whispered.
"Isn't it dangerous?" another voice murmured. "What if it draws lightning during a surge?"
"It's a storm cub," Myra said under her breath. "Existing is dangerous."
The pup sneezed sparks.
They reached the path that led toward the Verdant Hall—and beyond, the northern gate.
Aiden's storm prickled harder with every step.
He wasn't sure if it was anticipation—
—or the Warden pressing against the wards like a tide.
Elowen was waiting in front of the Hall.
She stood without escort, hands folded lightly at her back, her dark-green coat buttoned to the throat today instead of flowing robes. Her silver hair was bound in a high, simple twist. Pale-gold eyes watched them approach with a focus that made the rest of the courtyard feel less real.
"Stormthread," she said by way of greeting.
Myra straightened automatically.
Nellie nearly tripped.
Runa's chin lifted a fraction, as if accepting an invisible weight.
Aiden swallowed. "That name's sticking, huh."
"The Academy is fond of names that feel prophetic," Elowen said dryly. "It makes them feel less like accidents."
The pup sat down, tail flicking tiny arcs, and stared up at her like she was another type of storm.
"Aiden," Elowen continued, "how is your control after yesterday's session?"
He resisted the urge to say fine. She'd see through it.
"Better," he said instead. "Not… stable. But I can pull it back faster."
"And the Warden's echo?"
He hesitated. "Quieter. But close."
Elowen nodded once, unsurprised.
Her gaze moved to Nellie. "Thread-pull?"
"Outward," Nellie said. "North. It feels like… something knotted wrong. If I look at it too long, my head hurts."
"Look only when told to," Elowen said. "You are not there to chase ghosts. You are there to listen if the living start to tear."
Nellie nodded, fingers tightening on her satchel strap.
Elowen's attention shifted to Runa and Myra.
"Your role is simple," she said. "Keep those two upright."
"Bossy lightning," Myra said, jerking her chin at Aiden.
"Overcommitting healer," Runa added, jerking hers at Nellie.
"Between the two of you," Elowen said, "you may yet live past the year."
A faint, wry glint touched her eyes before she smoothed it away.
"Your escort is waiting at the north gate," she went on. "Master Veldt will lead the patrol. You will obey his orders as if they are mine. If he says run, you run. If he says hide, you hide. If he says do not touch that, you do not ask what it is. You do not touch it."
Myra's hand froze halfway to her knife. "That feels targeted."
"If you feel targeted," Elowen said mildly, "there is probably a reason."
The bell tolled once.
Low.
Rolling.
Elowen's head tilted toward the sound. "Go," she said. "And remember: you are going to look. Not to fix. Not yet."
Aiden nodded, throat dry.
"Yes—Elowen."
The name still felt strange on his tongue.
Less strange than Headmistress.
More like someone who'd already seen him almost fall apart and decided to stand in front of him anyway.
They turned toward the north path.
As they walked, the storm under his ribs pressed harder, pushing against bone like it wanted to reach past his skin, past the wards, into whatever waited.
"Storm's loud," Myra murmured under her breath.
"You can feel it?" Aiden asked.
"I can feel you vibrating," she said. "And the pup keeps looking at you like you're the world's biggest thundercloud."
The cub did, in fact, keep flicking glances up at him.
Not worried.
Alert.
Ahead, the north wall rose, higher than the others—thicker stone, heavier rune-lines, lanterns burning with a stronger, more focused light. The air here smelled different, too.
Less stone.
More water.
Rot, herbs, old leaves, and something metal-sharp underneath it all.
"Mmm," Runa grunted. "Swamp."
"You say that like it's a compliment," Myra said.
"Swamps are honest," Runa replied. "If they want to kill you, they do it quickly."
"Really comforting patterns today," Myra muttered.
A gatehouse jutted from the wall, built from darkwood and stone carved with deeper, heavier runes. The wardline here was visible even to Aiden's untrained eye: a faint curve of green light arcing overhead, joined to the wall by veins of power that looked like living roots.
A cluster of figures waited at the base.
Master Veldt stood at the center.
His cloak was the darker shade of a field officer's today, edges stitched with silver thread that caught the light when he moved. His scar looked deeper in the half-morning dim, a pale slash down his face. Beside him stood a lean elf woman with wind-tangled hair and a bow across her back—Myra's Scout-Binder captain, Lirienne.
On Veldt's other side, a broad-shouldered Verdant healer in moss-colored robes checked the straps on a pack full of clinking vials. Two more wardens in light armor stood at the edges, each with beast cores glowing faintly at their belts.
Veldt's gaze tracked them as they approached, sharp and measuring.
"Stormthread," he said in greeting, echoing Elowen's choice of name like it was already written on a ledger.
Aiden dipped his head. "Master Veldt."
"You remember the difference between a trial ground and the wild?" Veldt said.
"Yes, sir," Aiden said.
"Say it anyway."
Aiden swallowed. "The Hollow wanted to test us. The wild doesn't care if we learn anything. It just… kills us if we're careless."
Veldt nodded once. "Good. See that you remember that when the marsh looks at you."
Myra made a face. "Please don't give the swamp eyes."
"It already has them," Lirienne said quietly. Her voice was low and rough, like someone who'd spent too many nights shouting over wind. "You'll see."
Nellie shifted closer to Runa. "Are there many Aberrations still there? From the collapse?"
"We've culled most of the obvious ones," the Verdant healer said. "I am Meris. If something bites you and you start hearing colors, tell me before your brain melts."
"That's not reassuring at all," Myra whispered.
"Field healing is not reassuring," Meris replied. "It is practical."
Veldt jerked his chin toward the gate. "We follow the eastern causeway to the old Hollow edge," he said. "We verify the stability of the new wards. We do not pursue anything past sight range without my order. If the Warden presses the barrier, we note it and retreat. This is observation, not a hunt."
Aiden's storm didn't like the word retreat.
It pushed.
Hard.
He clamped down.
"Questions?" Veldt asked.
Myra's hand twitched up, then down. "Are we allowed to swear?"
"In moderation," Veldt said.
"Oh, good," she muttered.
The pup yipped once, sharp and ready.
Veldt's gaze dropped to it. "That stays leashed to your discipline, Raikos," he said. "The bond is still forming. If it surges, it may draw the Warden's interest faster than we'd like."
"Yes, sir."
Lightning prickled under Aiden's skin at the reminder.
The gate ward flared.
A line of green light thickened across the archway, then thinned again, like the Academy was blinking. Runes along the stone shifted, some dimming, some brightening in a sequence he didn't understand.
Veldt watched the pattern.
"The Warden is already close," he said. "Pressing. You feel it?"
Aiden did.
The same way he'd feel someone staring at his back too long.
Like pressure—not on his skin, but on his bones.
"Yes," he said.
Nellie swallowed. "Me too."
"The wards will hold," Meris said. "They are anchored deeper than the last set."
"That's what the last Wardscribe said," Lirienne murmured.
Veldt raised a hand.
The wardline rippled.
"On my mark," he said. "We step through together. Don't stop in the threshold. If you hesitate, the barrier pushes harder."
"That doesn't sound fun," Myra said.
"It is not," Veldt agreed.
He counted down.
"Three."
Aiden's heartbeat synced with the numbers.
"Two."
The pup pressed against his leg, fur buzzing.
"One."
They stepped.
The barrier felt like walking through cold honey.
For an instant, Aiden couldn't breathe.
The green light pressed against his skin from all directions, prickling over his Thorn Marks, over the storm in his chest, over the pup's small, crackling form. It tasted him the way the Heart Basin had tasted him.
Judging.
He could feel it remember.
Storm-child.
His storm snarled.
He remembered Elowen's voice.
Not here.
Not now.
He exhaled and pulled it in.
The pressure passed.
He stumbled forward—and suddenly the world was wider.
---
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hey everyone — quick update.
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