The next morning, the great grandfather clock in the main hall of the château struck seven times.
Each hollow chime echoed through the corridors, slow and solemn.
It was seven in the morning.
At this hour, the estate still slept. Some servants were only beginning to rise, while others moved quietly through their duties. The halls remained dim, wrapped in early silence.
But in one room, the day had already begun.
Kael was awake.
Inside his chamber, he stood before the mirror, adjusting his attire with calm precision. He wore a suit, dark and refined, its fabric smooth and neatly pressed. A hat rested in his hands, soon to be placed upon his head.
Everything about his appearance was deliberate.
The clothes fit him perfectly, elegant yet modest, as if chosen not for display, but for purpose. Gone was the fragile boy of yesterday's morning. What remained was someone composed, steady, and intent on going somewhere that mattered.
As the last echo of the clock faded into silence, Kael finished preparing.
While the château slowly stirred awake around him, he was already ready to step beyond its quiet walls.
He did not stop for breakfast.
Leaving his room behind, Kael walked through the long corridor, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. He descended the stairs without pause, crossed the quiet main hall, and headed straight for the front doors of the château.
The massive doors opened, letting in the cool morning air.
Outside, a vintage car waited near the entrance.
The driver was already there, standing beside it as if he had been expecting this moment all along. Kael had informed him the night before. No questions had been asked.
Kael stepped forward and took his seat in the back.
"Let's go, uncle," he said calmly.
The driver was an old man, his hair grey, his posture slightly bent with age. He had served the Ravenshade family for decades. Long enough to remember the day Kael was born. Long enough to know when silence mattered more than words.
Without a reply, the driver nodded and started the engine.
The car came to life with a low, familiar hum.
Slowly, they moved forward, passing through the iron gates of Ravenshade Château. The gates closed behind them, sealing the estate once more in its quiet grandeur.
And just like that, Kael left.
Without breakfast.
Without farewell.
And without looking back.
When the Ravenshade Château finally stirred to life, there was no confusion.
Rowan rose from his chambers. Zara prepared for the day. Servants moved through the halls as they always did, lighting lamps, opening curtains, restoring the quiet order of the house.
No one went looking for Kael.
No one asked where he had gone.
They already knew.
Kael had informed them beforehand. Not in detail, not with long explanations, but clearly enough that there was no need for concern.
So the château continued its morning as usual, accepting his absence without question.
As the car moved through the city, Kael watched in silence.
Old buildings passed by first. Weathered stone walls, familiar statues, narrow streets, small restaurants tucked between corners, and the tall church whose bell he remembered from childhood. Each sight felt like a half-forgotten memory resurfacing, unchanged, stubbornly holding its place in time.
Then came the new.
Structures of steel and glass rose beside ancient walls. Roads were wider. Stations larger. The city had grown while he had remained still.
His eyes were drawn to the railway.
Once, the trains had run on roaring steam engines, filling the air with thick black smoke and the smell of coal. Now they moved smoothly, powered by spirit energy. Silent. Clean. Not a single trace of smoke followed them.
Kael's gaze lingered.
"So many changes…" he murmured.
The stations had transformed as well. Brighter, busier, filled with movement. Cars crowded the streets far more than he remembered, engines humming constantly as people moved in every direction.
"So many cars… so many people," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
"The city has become much busier than before."
Yet not everything had disappeared.
Horse-drawn carriages still rolled through the streets, polished and elegant. Nobles rode within them, separated from the noise and rush of the modern city. The old and the new existed side by side, neither willing to fully yield.
As they passed farther through the city, Kael noticed rows of factories and chimneys.
Industries had multiplied.
The air felt heavier.
"The industries have increased…" he thought.
"And so has the pollution."
He leaned back slightly in his seat, watching smoke rise in the distance, his reflection faintly visible in the glass.
The world had moved forward without him.
And now, at last, he was moving with it.
Soon, the massive gates of the Academy of Grimsford came into view.
They were ancient, towering structures of dark iron and stone, marked by time and history. The academy itself had been founded in the tenth century, and its presence carried the weight of centuries. It was not merely a place of learning, but an institution that had shaped nobles, scholars, engineers, and strategists for generations.
Kael watched the gates slowly open.
Beyond them stretched a long, straight road leading deep into the academy grounds. The path was wide enough for carriages and modern vehicles alike, bordered by old lantern posts and trimmed hedges. The deeper one went, the quieter the city noise became, replaced by a solemn stillness.
Huge buildings rose on either side of the road. Some were carved from pale stone, others reinforced with iron frames added in recent years. Monuments stood between open yards, statues of past scholars and founders watching over the grounds in eternal silence.
The academy was vast.
Courtyards, training yards, lecture halls, libraries, laboratories. Every structure spoke of discipline, legacy, and authority.
Kael's gaze softened.
This was his academy.
The place where he had once studied. Where his days had been filled with lessons, debates, and ambition. The place he had left behind when the world had continued without him.
Seven years ago, he had walked these grounds as a student.
Now, he was returning to them as someone changed.
The car slowed as it moved deeper into Academy.
Kael straightened slightly in his seat.
Memories stirred.
And for the first time since leaving the château that morning, his heart began to beat faster.
As the car moved deeper into the academy grounds, the road ahead split.
Four paths stretched outward in perfect symmetry, branching toward the north, south, east, and west. At the very point where the roads divided stood a wide circular fountain, its stone basin worn smooth by centuries of flowing water. The soft sound of it echoed through the open space, calm and steady.
At the center of the fountain rose two white statues.
They were carved from pale stone, tall and solemn. Both figures wore long, flowing robes that draped down to their feet, simple in design yet dignified, tied at the waist with narrow cords. Their faces were calm, their expressions unreadable.
Each statue held a slender staff in one hand.
They stood back to back, facing opposite directions, as if watching over different paths of the world, guarding knowledge that stretched beyond a single horizon.
At the base of the statues, a dark stone plaque was set into the pedestal.
Two names were engraved upon it.
Kryris
Thalaris
Below the names were the words:
Born in the Eighth Century
Discoverers of the Spirit Arts Technique
Kael's eyes lingered on the statues as the car passed slowly around the fountain.
These were not just founders.
They were legends.
Men who had changed the course of learning, whose discoveries had shaped the very foundation of the academy and the modern world beyond it.
The fountain continued to flow quietly behind him as the car moved on, leaving the two silent guardians watching over the four roads, just as they had for centuries.
The car slowed and came to a stop beside one of the academy's older buildings.
Kael shifted forward, opened the door, and stepped outside.
A smooth, cold wind brushed across his face, carrying the faint scent of stone and old paper. His hair lifted and flowed with the breeze, light but persistent, as if the academy itself was breathing around him.
Behind him, the driver remained near the car, standing quietly, watching over his duty as he always had.
Kael turned and entered the building.
Inside, the atmosphere changed instantly.
The halls were alive.
Laughter echoed from distant corridors. Students' voices overlapped in excited chatter. Somewhere, a teacher's sharp voice rang out, calling for order. Footsteps moved in every direction.
The corridors were wide and long, their ceilings high enough to swallow sound before it could settle. Portraits lined the walls, faces of former students and legendary teachers staring down with solemn pride. Between them hung framed assignments and works of current students, carefully mounted as proof that the academy's legacy was still alive.
Kael walked through it all in silence, his steps measured, his eyes observant.
He stopped before a wooden door at the end of a quieter hallway.
Above it, a polished nameplate gleamed faintly.
Principal Albrecht Vaelor
Kael raised his hand and knocked.
A pause followed.
Then an old, steady voice spoke from inside.
"Come in."
Kael opened the door and stepped into the room.
Inside, the room opened wide and deep, heavy with silence and age.
Tall shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with countless books whose spines had faded with time. Between them stood framed awards, old photographs, and yellowed certificates, each one a quiet witness to decades of achievement. A pair of long-standing lamps rested near a seating area, where dark sofas sat unused, their cushions softened by years of waiting.
Near the far end of the room stood a massive wooden desk positioned beside a large window. Pale morning light filtered through the glass, falling across scattered papers and ink-stained folders.
The principal sat behind the desk.
His hair was fully grey now, thin and carefully combed back. Wrinkles marked his face deeply, carved by years of responsibility. His eyes, though sharp once, now carried a faint weakness, dulled by age and long nights of work.
He lifted his gaze as Kael entered.
For a moment, his expression remained neutral. Then confusion crossed his face.
"Who are you, young boy?" the principal asked slowly. After a brief pause, he added, "Do you need any help?"
Kael stepped forward.
He removed his hat, holding it respectfully in both hands. His posture straightened, his voice calm but steady.
"Sir," he said, "I am Kael Ravenshade."
The principal's eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.
"The student who studied here… years ago."
The room fell silent.
And in that silence, the past knocked gently at the door of memory.
The principal adjusted his spectacles slowly, pushing them higher on the bridge of his nose. His gaze lingered on Kael's face, studying it more carefully now.
Then recognition struck.
His eyes widened, just slightly.
"…It's been a long time," he said.
Kael inclined his head respectfully.
"Yes, sir. It truly has been a long time."
The principal leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking softly beneath him.
"When did you awaken from the coma?" he asked, his voice gentler now.
"Just a few days ago, sir," Kael replied.
The old man studied him again, this time with something close to concern.
"And how are you feeling now?"
Kael paused for a moment before answering.
"I am still weak," he said honestly. "But my mind is clear. I can think, read, and walk on my own. For now… that is enough."
The principal nodded slowly.
It was the answer of someone who had already faced worse.
Kael shifted slightly, the weight of his dark brown suit pressing gently against him as he stood before the principal's desk. His hands gripped the edge of his hat for a moment, a small sign of his lingering unease. Then, in a calm but respectful tone, he spoke.
"Sir… I need your help."
The principal, leaning back in his chair, studied him carefully. His eyes, pale with age but sharp with curiosity, narrowed slightly.
"Yes?" he said, his voice steady. "Tell me—what kind of help do you require?"
Kael exhaled softly, his gaze flicking to the stacks of books lining the walls of the office. The room smelled faintly of old parchment and varnished wood, a scent he remembered from his time here before the coma—a place where knowledge had felt alive, almost breathing.
"I've been searching for something," Kael began, his voice quiet but firm. "A particular set of knowledge, written in old texts… but I cannot access the books at my home, nor even in the city's library. I came here because…" He paused, meeting the principal's steady gaze. "…I know this academy preserves records from centuries past. I hoped you could guide me to them."
The principal's expression softened. He leaned forward slightly, his gnarled fingers steepled on the polished wood.
"You've returned at an opportune time," he said slowly. "There are volumes here that have not seen daylight in decades—texts your home and the city might no longer hold, hidden away in our restricted archives. If you truly seek them, I can grant you access… under certain guidance."
Kael nodded once, a flash of determination lighting his face. The faint sunlight spilling through the tall windows cast shadows across the office, brushing over the rows of ancient tomes like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
"I am ready, sir," Kael said quietly. "I will follow your guidance."
The principal's eyes lingered on him for a long moment, as if weighing the boy's resolve, before he finally nodded.
"Very well," he said. "We will begin at once. But know this—some knowledge comes with a price, and not all who seek it are prepared for what they may find."
Kael's grip on his hat tightened slightly, but his gaze remained steady. He had waited seven years to reclaim his life—and now, he would reclaim the knowledge lost in the shadows of time.