They called it "discipline."
But it was just punishment dressed in gold thread and tradition.
At Arkanis Academy, when a student "forgot his place," they were tossed into the Pit.
A carved-out chasm beneath the east wing, damp and reeking of ancient mold and sulfur. No light. No warmth. Just the company of whatever failed magical creatures rotted in its depths.
Kael had seen it once — when a second-year student accidentally set fire to the divine hall. He came out three days later with his voice stolen and his hands bound in flame-eater chains.
Now it was Kael's turn.
"Enjoy your stay," said the guard with a grin, as he shoved Kael forward and slammed the iron gate shut.
Kael landed hard on stone. His ribs screamed, his back ached, and his breath fogged into the pitch-black air.
Silence.
Then… scraping.
Something moved beyond the darkness. Not heavy. Not large. But wrong.
Kael sat still, back to the wall, heart thudding in his chest. He wasn't afraid. Not exactly.
He was curious.
Would this finally be the thing that killed him?
Would anyone care?
"You are not supposed to be here..."
The voice was low. Not human. Not entirely real either.
Kael froze. "Who—?"
"You have no star. No flame. No favor. But you bled."
"And that… was enough to call me."
A faint blue glow shimmered in the distance.
Then, from the dark, a shape emerged — not beast, not god, but something between. A creature draped in rags of shadow, its form constantly shifting like smoke around bone.
It had no face. Just light where eyes might've been.
Kael stood slowly. "What are you?"
"The thing beneath the system. The breath between stars. I slept… until you screamed."
The creature stepped closer.
Kael's fists clenched. His instincts screamed to run — but his rage anchored him.
"I don't want your pity."
The creature let out a sound like laughter echoing from a tomb.
"Good. I don't give pity. I give power."
"But only when you're ready to burn."
The creature reached out. Not a hand — a thread of shadow, like a tendril of smoke that wrapped around Kael's wrist.
Suddenly, Kael saw everything.
A throne of bone cracking under a dying god's weight
Wings made of black fire
A battlefield where the stars themselves wept
And a boy standing at the center of it all… wearing his face
Kael dropped to his knees, gasping.
"Wh-what is this?"
"A glimpse," the thing whispered. "Of what you could become."
"If you stop chasing stars… and start devouring them."
The glow vanished.
No trace of the creature remained. No sound. No breath. Just stone and darkness and the quiet drip of water echoing somewhere deep below.
Kael remained kneeling long after it disappeared, clutching his wrist where the shadow had touched him. His chest rose and fell like he'd run a marathon, but he hadn't moved at all.
What had he just seen?
A battlefield of dead stars.
A throne built from god-bone.
His own face… crowned in fire.
He whispered into the dark, hoarse and half-mad, "Was that… real?"
Silence.
And yet, something inside him answered — not in words, but in weight. Like gravity had shifted, like something ancient had cracked open inside his bones.
Kael stood slowly, swaying.
His body still felt broken. His ribs still ached. But he didn't feel weak anymore.
He felt… unwritten. Like a page that had never been touched — and now someone was picking up the pen.
The gate above creaked. A voice shouted down.
"Time's up, Zero! Crawl back out!"
Kael didn't reply.
He just smiled.
Not because he was healed. Not because he was safe.
But because for the first time in his life, he knew something the gods didn't.
He was no longer waiting to awaken.
He was already beginning to break.