**Dormitory 3B - Dawn**
The scent of rain still clung to the windowpane when Kael awoke. Not to thunder this time, but to the *thump-thump-thump* of Darius Valen's boot kicking the opposite door.
"Up, peasants! Some of us have lineages to uphold!"
Kael dressed silently, the coarse weave of his academy tunic rough against storm-marked skin. Outside, Darius held court in the hallway, peacock cloak swirling as he eyed Kael's room with theatrical disdain. "Honestly? Housing *scrap* opposite Valen blood? The admissions office scrapes new depths daily."
Kael closed his door without a sound. *Anchor. Anvil. Survive.* Heron's lessons echoed in his bones.
---
**Hall of Arcanum - Orientation**
Professor Borin's beard brushed the lectern as he spoke, each word dusted with centuries of authority. "Eldros is your crucible. Five years. No quarter given. Only those tempered by its trials will rise."
Kael's schedule burned in his palm:
1. Foundations of Arcane Theory (Varra)
2. Magical Ethics & History (Vellin)
3. Mana Control & Meditation (Elrik)
4. Elemental Combat - Basic (Yelric)
5. Combat Strategy & Tactics (Rennick)
*Varra.* The woman whose gaze felt like frost on his spine.
---
**The Grand Athenaeum - Second Encounter**
Kael found Lyria Voss exactly where instinct said she'd be—third-floor archives, surrounded by crumbling battle-tactics scrolls.
"Glyph theory again?" she asked without looking up. "Or chasing ghosts today?"
"Both." Kael slid into the worn oak chair opposite her.
Lyria's quill paused. "You're hunting something specific. Something old."
Kael traced a water stain on the table. "Why do you care?"
"Because," she shut her tome with a *thump*, "the last student who poked at Pre-Reckoning sigils woke up speaking Demonsong. Took three professors to purge him." Her emerald gaze sharpened. "You draw forbidden glyphs like breathing, Arvandor. What's waking up inside you?"
Before he could answer, the air crackled.
Not magic—*laughter*.
Darius leaned against a bookshelf, flanked by two smirking nobles. "Voss slumming with forge-rats now? How quaint."
Lyria's smile turned razor-edged. "Valen. Still compensating for your resonance test? I heard the orb *yawned*."
Darius's smirk died. "Watch your tongue, Voss."
"Oh, I do," she purred. "It's how I taste victory."
As Darius stormed off, Lyria turned back to Kael. "See? Distractions. Focus on your ghosts, Arvandor. Before the living bury you."
---
**Eastern Tower - Midnight**
Kael pressed his palm against the rain-lashed window. The storm within him pressed back—a caged beast testing its bars.
*Focus.*
Wind answered first, coiling around his wrist like a silken rope. But deeper… *older*… lightning flickered in his veins. A memory surfaced:
*—Stone battlements under a hurricane sky. Soldiers kneeling as blue-white fire danced along his fingertips—*
He slammed his mental shields down. The wind vanished.
*Too close.*
---
**Arcane Theory - The Unspoken Test**
Varra's classroom felt colder than the mountain crypts. Today's glyphs spun above her palm—complex interlocking rings of fire and force.
"Amplification lattices," she stated. "Channel through the primary node. Contain the backlash."
Students fumbled. Lyria's flared bright but unstable. Darius's erupted in sparks, earning a glacial stare.
Kael's hand moved.
No hesitation. No calculation. His quill danced across parchment as the glyphs formed—not copied, but *recalled*. Ancient. Efficient. *Deadly*.
Varra materialized beside his desk. Her gloved fingertip touched his parchment. Not the glyphs—the *margin*. Where his quill had unconsciously sketched a sigil like tangled lightning.
**The Storm-Sever Glyph.**
Her obsidian eyes met his. For three heartbeats, the world stopped.
"Acceptable," she finally said, moving on as if nothing happened.
Kael's blood roared in his ears. *She knows what it is.*
---
**Beneath the Academy - The Watcher's Report**
"She drew his eye," the shadow murmured. "Voss. Defended him against Valen."
Sylas smiled against the rim of her wine glass. "Good. Attachment is vulnerability." She traced the scar at her throat—a habit when plotting. "And the glyph?"
"Pre-Reckonation. Storm-Sever. He drew it perfectly."
Sylas set down her glass. The torchlight deepened the hollows of her face. "Then the seal frays faster than we feared. Accelerate Phase Two."
"The Voss girl?"
"Let her linger. She'll make excellent leverage… or collateral." Sylas rose, her cloak swallowing the light. "When the storm breaks, Captain, ensure it breaks *him* first."
End of chapter 3