Chapter 7: The Missing Thread

The morning after the vault, Kaelen woke to a silence that felt wrong. No bells tolled, no footsteps echoed through the dormitory corridor—just a stillness that pressed against his ears like damp cotton. He lay on his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling's faint silver threads, their glow muted in the gray light seeping through the window. The moons hung low, their fractured edges blurred by mist, and the ache in his bones pulsed faintly, a reminder of Lira's whisper—We're bound. His silver veins shimmered beneath his sleeves, dim but restless, as if they too sensed the quiet.He sat up, wincing as his bruised body protested, and rubbed his face. Nyari's touch lingered in his memory—cool fingers on his wrist, easing the fire Lira had stoked. She'd seen him at his rawest, heard his confession about the vault, and hadn't flinched. He didn't know what to make of her—mute, watchful, a riddle wrapped in gray—but she'd pulled him back from the edge last night, and that counted for something.A sharp rap at the door broke his thoughts. "Scribe! You alive in there?" Thorne's voice, rough and loud, carried a forced cheer that didn't match the silence outside.Kaelen swung his legs off the bed, boots hitting the stone with a dull thud. "Barely," he called, grabbing his cloak—still torn, still smelling of Nareth's alleys—and opening the door. Thorne leaned against the frame, his black curls tangled, his sword strapped to his hip as always. But his grin was tighter, his eyes darting down the corridor before settling on Kaelen."Something's off," Thorne said, lowering his voice. "Half the dorms are empty. No one's saying why."Kaelen frowned, stepping into the hall. The air was cool, heavy with salt from the Sea of Whispers, and the silver threads in the walls pulsed faintly, slower than usual. "Empty how?""Gone," Thorne said, starting down the corridor. "Beds made, gear left behind. Like they vanished in the night."Kaelen followed, his boots scuffing the stone, unease curling in his gut. The academy had felt alive yesterday—humming with magic, buzzing with initiates—but now it was a hollow shell, its corridors too wide, its shadows too deep. They passed open doors, rooms identical to his: narrow beds, desks, windows overlooking the mist. Some were untouched, blankets neatly folded; others showed signs of haste—a quill dropped mid-word, a tunic crumpled on the floor. No blood, no struggle, just absence."Could be training," Kaelen said, though the words felt thin. "Some test we don't know about."Thorne snorted, shaking his head. "Not with Lady Yverin pacing the halls like a caged wolf. Saw her earlier—masked face all tight, barking at the guides. Something's spooked her."They reached the common hall, a broad space with long tables and benches where initiates ate between sessions. It was nearly empty, save for a handful of gray-clad figures hunched over bowls of thin porridge. Selis sat alone at the far end, her auburn braid coiled over one shoulder, her hazel eyes fixed on a book. Nyari was absent, her usual corner bare. Kaelen scanned the room, counting heads—ten, maybe twelve, out of the thirty he'd seen yesterday.Selis looked up as they approached, her gaze sharp. "You're late," she said, closing her book with a snap. "And you look like you slept in a gutter.""Close enough," Kaelen muttered, sliding onto the bench across from her. Thorne dropped beside him, grabbing a bowl from a passing guide and digging in without preamble. "Where is everyone?"Selis's lips pressed thin, her fingers tapping the book's cover—a leather-bound tome with no title, its edges worn. "That's the question, isn't it? Five gone from my corridor alone. No word, no warning. Guides won't talk.""Five?" Thorne paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "That's more than I thought. What's the count?""Fifteen, at least," Selis said, her voice low. "Maybe more. I checked the roster in the library—names scratched out, no explanation."Kaelen's stomach tightened. Fifteen initiates, vanished overnight, and the academy carried on like nothing had happened. He thought of the vault, the red shard, Lira's voice—They'll bind you, break you, use you. "You think it's connected?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral. "To the training?"Selis's eyes narrowed, studying him. "You know something."He hesitated, the weight of last night pressing against his ribs. Nyari knew, but she couldn't speak—wouldn't betray him. Selis, though, was a blade waiting to cut. "Just a hunch," he said, shrugging. "This place doesn't feel right.""Understatement," Thorne muttered, shoving his bowl aside. "Feels like a trap springing slow."Selis leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's more than that. I found something—last night, in the library. A ledger, hidden behind a false shelf. It mentioned the Crescent Chain."Kaelen frowned, the name unfamiliar. "What's that?""A society," she said, her fingers tightening on the book. "Old, secret. Loyal to the Empire. They've been tied to the Moonbinders since the last one—Lira the Severed. The ledger said they 'guide' the chosen, keep them in line.""The Crescent Chain," Lira's voice purred in his mind, soft and sudden, making him flinch. "Puppeteers with silver strings. They broke me, Kaelen. They'll break you too."He gripped the bench, forcing her out, his veins flickering. Selis noticed, her gaze sharpening, but she didn't press. "Guide how?" he asked, voice rough."Control," she said. "Oaths, collars, sacrifices. The ledger wasn't clear—half the pages were torn out—but it hinted at rituals. Blood and moons. And it named the academy as their seat."Thorne whistled low. "So we're in their nest. Lovely.""It's worse," Selis said, her eyes flicking to the hall's entrance, where a guide lingered, watching them. "The missing initiates—some matched names in the ledger. Marked for 'ascension.' Whatever that means."Kaelen's mind raced, the vault's red glow flashing behind his eyes. Lira had warned him—Empire, academy, Crescent Chain—and now bodies were disappearing. "You think they're… what, killing them?" he asked, keeping his voice steady."Sacrificing," Selis corrected, her tone cold. "To the moons, maybe. Or something older. The Threads feel alive here—too alive. You've noticed, haven't you?"He nodded, the ache in his bones a constant hum. "Yeah. Like they're watching.""They are," she said, leaning back. "And we're caught in it."The hall's doors swung open, and Lady Yverin strode in, her indigo robe sweeping the tiles, her masked face a stark contrast to the gray-clad guides trailing her. The room stilled, spoons clattering, eyes dropping. She stopped at the center, her green eye sweeping over them, lingering on Kaelen a heartbeat too long."Initiates," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "Training resumes in the Strand Chamber. Now."No mention of the missing. No explanation. Kaelen exchanged a glance with Thorne, who shrugged, and Selis, who tucked her book under her arm, her expression unreadable. They rose, filing out with the others, the air thick with unspoken questions.The Strand Chamber was as they'd left it—gouged tiles, pulsing orbs, the dome's moons casting fractured light. But the benches were emptier, the initiates' chatter subdued. Nyari waited near the platform, her gray cloak blending with the stone, her silver-gray eyes finding Kaelen's. She nodded slightly, a reassurance he clung to as Lady Yverin took her place."Today," she said, "you weave with purpose. Pair up. One attacks, one shields. Begin."Kaelen paired with Nyari this time, her silence a steady anchor. He wove threads—jagged, still unsteady—aiming for her, while she countered with delicate strands that formed a shimmering shield, deflecting his strikes with precision. Across the chamber, Selis and Thorne sparred, her nets tight and lethal, his hammers blunt but forceful. Lady Yverin circled, her gaze piercing, and Kaelen felt it—her focus on him, heavier than before."She knows," Lira whispered, her voice slithering back. "She smells the vault on you. Careful, sweet boy."He gritted his teeth, pushing her down, and flung a spear of threads at Nyari. She blocked it, but the force cracked her shield, sending sparks across the tiles. She tilted her head, a faint question in her eyes, and he shook his head—later.The session dragged, exhaustion seeping into his bones, the ache sharpening with every weave. When Lady Yverin called a halt, the initiates slumped, sweat-soaked and silent. She dismissed them, but her voice stopped Kaelen as he turned to leave."Duskryn," she said, low and firm. "Stay."Thorne shot him a look—good luck—and followed Selis and Nyari out. The chamber emptied, leaving Kaelen alone with Lady Yverin, the orbs dimming overhead. She stepped closer, her masked face unreadable, her green eye glinting."You were restless last night," she said, her tone deceptively soft. "Wandering where you shouldn't."His pulse quickened, but he kept his face blank. "Couldn't sleep. This place gets under your skin.""It does," she agreed, circling him. "But the academy has rules. Boundaries. You crossed one."The vault. She knew—or guessed. He clenched his fists, the veins flickering. "I didn't mean to. Just… exploring.""Exploring," she echoed, stopping before him. "And what did you find?""Lie," Lira hissed, her voice sharp. "She'll chain you if she knows.""Nothing," Kaelen said, meeting her gaze. "Empty halls. Shadows."Lady Yverin studied him, her silence a blade pressed to his throat. Then she stepped back, her robe rustling. "Curiosity is a virtue here—until it isn't. Be careful, Moonbinder. The Threads see more than you think."She turned, leaving him in the chamber, her words hanging heavy. He exhaled, shaky, and sank onto a bench, the ache in his bones a roar. Selis's ledger, the missing initiates, Lira's warnings—it was a knot tightening around him, and he didn't know how to unravel it.Nyari slipped back in, her book clutched tight, her eyes searching his. She traced a rune—Safe?—and he nodded, though it felt like a lie."For now," he muttered, staring at the gouged tiles. "But something's coming. I can feel it."She sat beside him, silent, steady, and he clung to that as the moons pulsed overhead, their light cold and unyielding.