Chapter 23 – The Assignment

The morning mist lingered longer than usual.

Kael stood behind the apothecary barn, bundling dried thornstem into neat stacks. His motions were practiced, precise. But his thoughts drifted—slow, like smoke curling beneath the surface of still water.

Since stabilizing the third layer, something had shifted.

Not within him.Around him.

He felt it in glances that lingered too long.In conversations that paused as he passed.Even Elric had begun to watch him more closely, though he said nothing.

Kael wasn't sure what it meant.But something was coming.

The pouch at his waist was still.The bottle inside—forgotten.

The gong rang out mid-morning. Two short chimes. One long.

Kael straightened.That pattern wasn't common.Not a meal call.Not a storm warning.

An announcement.

When he arrived at the central quad, most of the outer hall disciples had already gathered.

Instructor Solen stood at the front—rigid as ever, his dark green robe pressed to perfection, beard braided down the center of his chest like a rope of black iron.

Beside him stood a stranger.

Tall.Lean.Sharp-featured, with eyes like dried bark scorched at the edges.

Solen raised a hand, silencing the last of the murmurs.

"You've been summoned for a reason," he said. "The Council has approved the next rotation of disciples for field missions."

A stir moved through the crowd.

"Those selected will travel to Emberfen Crossing. There has been… irregularity in the regional herbs. Contamination, possibly deliberate. The assignment is dual-purpose—diagnose the issue and maintain sect presence."

He glanced at the crowd, jaw tightening.

"You will be observed. You will be judged. Failure means you return with your name stained. Success... brings opportunity."

He unrolled a scroll.

Kael exhaled slowly. He expected his name to be skipped.

It wasn't.

"Sariel of Flintfall.""Mero, son of Captain Isan.""Kael, disciple of Elric.""Bren, of no current assignment."

Solen paused.

"Pending confirmation."

Kael blinked.

Bren?

He hadn't heard that name spoken in nearly two years.There'd been no word. No letters. Just the folded note Bren left behind.

He glanced at Solen, but the man's face was carved from stone.

The stranger beside him stepped forward. His voice was low, dry—like wind sliding through dead leaves.

"This is not a reward," he said. "It is a filter. The weak will show themselves. The uncertain will falter."

Kael recognized the tone before the name.

Aerin Dathos. A taskmaster from the Gray Wing division.Rumor had it he'd led border missions where treaties broke and silence was enforced blade-first.

Solen handed out scrolls one by one. No ceremony. No praise.

When Kael's name was called, he stepped forward, bowed, and took the parchment.

It felt heavy.Not in weight.But in weight of meaning.

He returned to his quarters without speaking to anyone.

Inside, he laid the scroll on his table.

He didn't unroll it.

Didn't need to.

The words were already written in his mind.

Emberfen Crossing. External mission. Evaluation pending.

Kael sat beside the table and exhaled slowly.

He had waited four years in silence.

Now the silence was over.

And the road ahead was no longer his to choose.