Chapter 8: The Vessel Unveiled

The Strand Chamber's air was thick with the scent of sweat and scorched stone as Kaelen wove another thread, his hands trembling from exhaustion. The silver strands spiraled from his palms, jagged and wild, aimed at Nyari's shimmering shield. She stood across from him, her gray cloak still, her silver-gray eyes steady as her delicate threads deflected his strike with a crackle of sparks. The other initiates sparred around them—Selis weaving tight nets that pinned her partner to the tiles, Thorne swinging a hammer of light that shattered a bench—but Kaelen barely noticed, his focus narrowed to the ache in his bones, the hum of the moons overhead, and the whisper that wouldn't leave his skull."You're slipping, sweet boy," Lira purred, her voice threading through his thoughts like smoke. "Too much fight, not enough surrender. Let me help.""Shut up," he muttered under his breath, flinging another thread at Nyari. It veered wide, slicing into the mosaic floor with a screech, and she tilted her head, a faint crease in her brow. He shook his head—not now—and wiped sweat from his eyes, the silver veins on his arms glowing brighter with every failed attempt. Three days since the vault, three days of training that left him raw, and still his power bucked like a wild horse, refusing the reins.Lady Yverin watched from the platform, her indigo robe a stark shadow against the pulsing orbs, her masked face unreadable. She'd said little since their confrontation, but her green eye followed him, sharp and unrelenting, as if peeling back his skin to see the secrets beneath. The missing initiates—fifteen, then eighteen, now twenty—hung unspoken in the chamber, a weight no one dared name. Selis's ledger burned in Kaelen's mind, the Crescent Chain's shadow stretching longer with every empty bench."Enough," Lady Yverin called, her voice slicing through the clamor. The initiates stilled, threads dissolving, breaths heaving. "Duskryn, Varn, Ardyn, to me. The rest, dismissed."Kaelen exchanged a glance with Thorne, who shrugged, sheathing his sword, and Selis, who tucked her book under her arm, her hazel eyes narrowing. Nyari lingered at the chamber's edge, her book open, fingers poised over a rune, but Lady Yverin waved her out with the others. The doors thudded shut, leaving Kaelen, Selis, and Thorne alone with her, the silence heavy as stone.Lady Yverin stepped down from the platform, her robe rustling, and stopped before them. "You've progressed," she said, her tone flat. "But not enough. The moons demand more, and time is short.""More for what?" Selis asked, her voice crisp, edged with suspicion. "You've got half the initiates vanishing, and now you're pushing us harder. What's the game?"Lady Yverin's green eye flicked to her, a flicker of something—amusement, irritation—crossing her visible features. "The game, Varn, is survival. The academy is a crucible. Some burn away. Others temper.""Burn away?" Thorne snorted, crossing his arms. "That's a fancy way to say 'gone.' Where are they?""Elsewhere," she said, her voice cool. "Their paths diverged. Yours remain. Focus on that."Kaelen's fists clenched, the ache in his bones flaring. "That's not an answer. People don't just vanish. What's the Crescent Chain got to do with it?"The name dropped like a stone, and Lady Yverin stilled, her masked face tilting toward him. Selis shot him a look—sharp, warning—but it was too late. The air thickened, the orbs overhead pulsing faster, and Lira's laughter echoed in his skull, bright and brittle."Oh, you've stirred the nest now," she said, delighted. "Watch her squirm."Lady Yverin stepped closer, her shadow falling over him. "Where did you hear that name, Duskryn?""Doesn't matter," he said, holding her gaze, the silver veins glowing hot. "Is it true? Are they taking them? Sacrificing them?"She studied him, her silence a blade pressed to his throat, then turned away, her robe sweeping the tiles. "Follow me," she said, striding toward a side door he hadn't noticed before—black stone, rune-etched, blending with the wall. It slid open at her touch, revealing a narrow stair descending into shadow.Thorne muttered a curse, but followed, Selis close behind, her book clutched tight. Kaelen went last, the ache urging him down, Lira's whisper a constant hum. The stair spiraled, tighter than the vault's, the air growing cold and metallic, the walls pulsing with silver threads that moved like veins. They emerged into a chamber—small, circular, its floor a single slab of obsidian, its ceiling a dome of fractured glass showing the moons' pale glow. At the center stood a table, and on it, a collar—silver, thin, etched with runes that shimmered red.Lady Yverin stopped beside it, her hand hovering over the collar. "This," she said, "is an Oath Collar. A tool of the Threads, refined by the Crescent Chain. It binds power to purpose."Kaelen's stomach twisted, the red runes mirroring the vault's shard. "Binds how?""It ensures loyalty," she said, her voice softening, almost regretful. "Control. The Moonbinder's power is… unique. Unstable. The Empire cannot risk another Collapse.""They chained me with it," Lira hissed, her voice sharp. "Drained me, broke me. Don't let her touch you.""Another Collapse?" Selis asked, stepping forward, her eyes on the collar. "You mean Lira the Severed."Lady Yverin nodded, a rare crack in her composure. "She was the last Moonbinder. Her power shattered a moon, a kingdom, a continent. The Crescent Chain was formed to prevent that—to guide the chosen, to harness them.""Harness," Thorne echoed, his grin gone. "You mean cage.""If necessary," she said, her green eye flicking to Kaelen. "You, Duskryn, bear her mark. But you are not what you think."The words hit like a punch, and he stepped back, the ache roaring. "What's that supposed to mean?"Lady Yverin lifted the collar, its runes flaring, and the air shimmered. Threads spiraled from it, weaving into a shape—a figure, tall and cloaked, with eyes like fractured moons. Lira. She hovered, translucent, her smile cutting through him."Tell him," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber, not just his mind. "Tell him what he is."Kaelen's breath caught, his veins blazing. "What the hell—""You are a vessel," Lady Yverin said, her tone cold, final. "Constructed, not chosen. The moons marked you, yes, but your purpose was shaped—by the academy, by the Chain, by her. Lira's soul clings to you, seeking return. You are her anchor, her door."The chamber spun, the obsidian floor tilting beneath him. "No," he said, shaking his head. "That's not—I'm not some puppet.""You're more," she said, stepping closer, the collar in her hands. "But you're incomplete. Without control, she'll take you—body, mind, all. The Oath Collar ensures she doesn't. Ensures the Empire's will.""Lies," Lira snarled, her form flickering. "They'll drain you, like they drained me. You'll be their dog, not their savior."Selis grabbed his arm, her grip tight. "You knew this?" she hissed at Lady Yverin. "You brought him here for this?""I brought him here to save him," Lady Yverin said, her voice steady. "And the world. The prophecy demands a Moonbinder—whole or broken. He's the key.""Prophecy?" Thorne asked, his hand on his sword. "What prophecy?""The moons must fall," Lady Yverin said, her eye glinting. "Or be bound anew. Lira sought the first. The Empire demands the second. Duskryn decides."Kaelen yanked free of Selis, backing toward the stair, his veins burning. "I'm not deciding anything with that thing on me.""You will," she said, advancing, the collar raised. "Willingly or not."Thorne drew his sword, stepping between them. "Not today, lady."Selis pulled her dagger, her stance low. "You're not collaring him. Not while we're here."Lady Yverin paused, her masked face tilting, then lowered the collar. "Brave," she said, almost amused. "But foolish. The Chain knows he's awake. They're coming. You can't stop them.""Then we'll run," Selis said, her voice hard. "He's not your tool."Kaelen's mind raced, Lira's laughter ringing in his ears. "Run, yes," she urged. "But not without me. You need me, Kaelen. They'll hunt you either way."Lady Yverin turned, setting the collar back on the table. "Go, then. See how far you get. The Threads bind you here—to the academy, to the moons, to her. There's no escape."She swept out, the door sliding shut behind her, leaving them in the chamber's cold glow. Kaelen sank against the wall, breath ragged, the silver veins pulsing hot. "A vessel," he muttered, staring at his hands. "She's in me. All this time."Selis sheathed her dagger, her eyes fierce. "We're not letting them collar you. We need a plan."Thorne nodded, gripping his sword. "We get Nyari, we get out. Tonight."Kaelen looked up, the ache a fire in his chest. "And go where? She's right—I can't run from this." He tapped his temple, where Lira's presence coiled. "From her.""Then we fight," Selis said, her voice steady. "But not here, not now. We need time.""Time won't save you," Lira whispered, her form fading from the air. "But I can. Trust me, sweet boy."He didn't answer her, didn't trust her, but her words clung like damp cloth. The collar gleamed on the table, its runes a promise of chains, and the moons pulsed overhead, their light cold and unyielding. Whatever he was—vessel, Moonbinder, pawn—the academy's web was tightening, and he had to find a way out before it snapped shut.