The chamber was quieter than Kael expected. Not silent, but solemn—like the echoing calm before a blade was drawn. He stood before a circular table of silver-inlaid obsidian, its surface rippling faintly with embedded magic. The chamber was high within the academy's central spire, where only select meetings between emissaries and leadership occurred.
Lord Aethros Ven'Calen stood at the head of the table, his violet robes pooling like shadowfire around his feet. Even now, he radiated the same eerie precision he had during Kael's first lesson. But today, he was not a master. Today, he was a herald.
Behind Aethros, Headmaster Erion and Master Illovar stood with crossed arms, bearing expressions caught between respect and wariness.
"Kael Ryuu," Aethros began, his voice as crisp as ever. "You have been summoned to receive an imperial message."
From beneath his cloak, Aethros produced a sealed scroll. Unlike the letter Kael had ignored the previous night, this one bore not just the royal seal of the phoenix—it shimmered with active runes, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. A seal of witnessing.
Kael stepped forward. His gloves were still tucked into his sash from the morning's training, and the runes etched into his arms tingled as if aware of the presence before him.
Aethros extended the scroll. "This message is not merely words. It is memory, bound in script. A projection from Her Majesty herself."
Kael accepted the scroll carefully. The moment his fingers touched the parchment, the air around the room thickened. Aether stirred, and the lights dimmed. The seal unraveled with a chime like the stroke of crystal.
The scroll floated before him and unfurled midair. Light spilled forth, casting the shadow of a woman in regal armor, her long silver hair braided with sapphire threads. She did not look old, nor young. Timeless.
"Kael Ryuu," the illusion spoke, her voice resounding like a chorus in one. "Bearer of the Crestless Brand. Wielder of the Living Script. Your deeds echo within the flame of our Empire."
Kael stood still. He knew this wasn't truly her—just a magical echo. But still, the force of her presence pressed against his ribs.
"You have survived where many have perished. You have excelled in disciplines long forgotten by the common legions. And so, I send you one of my finest—Lord Aethros Ven'Calen, Royal Array Master of the Inner Court. For seven days, he will guide your hand. What he teaches, few have ever learned."
She paused, and the image turned slightly, as though looking directly at him.
"I do not yet know your path. But should the future demand it, and should your resolve prove unwavering… you may stand among the sovereign blades of the Empire. We cherish our heroes, Kael Ryuu. Walk wisely."
The projection faded.
The scroll fell gently to the ground, its runes inert once more.
Kael exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Master Illovar stepped beside him. "That... was real. The Queen doesn't send such messages to just anyone."
"Especially not to first-years," Erion added.
Aethros said nothing. He merely turned away. "Meet me at the Chamber of Sigils. We begin again at dusk."
---
Duskfire Trials
The sun bled crimson across the sky as Kael descended into the training dome once more. The air within shimmered faintly, heatless but charged with energy. Lord Aethros stood waiting, the runes across his sleeves pulsing steadily.
"You opened the scroll," he said without turning. "Good. Now let us see if Her Majesty's judgment was correct."
Kael didn't reply. He stepped into the circle and shed his coat and gloves.
"Today we begin the Duskfire Sequence. A series of tests designed not to measure strength—but focus. Precision. Adaptability. You will be attacked not by me—but by your own unstable script."
Kael blinked. "You mean my runes?"
"Yes." Aethros raised a hand. "You have branded many raw and hybrid scripts onto your body, yes?"
Kael nodded.
"With my help, we will unbind a fraction of them—temporarily. They will attempt to overwrite you. You must tame them."
A ripple of anxiety stirred in Kael's chest.
Before he could respond, Aethros pressed a single finger to Kael's forehead. The world blurred.
---
Within the Glyphstorm
Kael floated in a space of nothing but radiant ink. The runes on his arms and chest pulsed wildly, no longer stable, each one whispering intent.
Flame. Frost. Gravity. Sight. Silence. Agony.
Each rune a voice. Each one screaming.
He clenched his fists, calling to his core—the String within. His vision pulsed.
He began to write. Not with ink, not with blood, but with will. A new stabilizing sequence. One rune at a time.
Focusing on the center.
On who he was.
Soulborne. Crestless. Void-marked.
The unstable glyphs resisted. He gritted his teeth. "You are mine."
And with a final surge of command, the chaotic runes bent inward, forming a single rotating crest of his own design—an echo of the Void, yet shaped by Kael's own discipline.
The space shattered like glass.
---
Aftermath
Kael collapsed onto the stone floor of the Chamber of Sigils, gasping. Sweat coated his body. The glyph on his shoulder glowed briefly before fading.
Aethros stood over him. "You will make many enemies with power like this."
Kael sat up slowly. "Then I'll just have to get stronger."
Aethros cracked the barest smile. "Perhaps you are worthy."
As Kael left the chamber that night, the royal letter lay safe in his pocket.
He still hadn't opened the second one.
But soon, he would.