Wishpered Names and Crimson Rain

The stars had not yet faded when Kairo found himself standing on the moss-covered rooftop of the dormitory, gazing over the sprawling academy grounds like a watchful sentinel. The wind was cool and brisk, brushing his face with whispers only he could truly hear.

"That was a weird dream," Kairo muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. "A talking fish with glasses accusing me of being too serious. Maybe Samhael's cooking is messing with my brain."

Just then, a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"If you're going to stand out here dramatically, at least do it with your shirt on."

Kairo turned to find Samhael leaning against the attic door, arms folded, her expression a mix of exasperation and mild amusement. She tossed a folded shirt at him.

"Thanks," he muttered, slipping it on. "Didn't expect anyone up this early."

"I could say the same," she replied. "Though it's more surprising that you're talking to fish in your sleep."

He blinked. "You heard that?"

"Every word. And honestly, Kairo? You might need a therapist."

A chuckle escaped him—light, but genuine.

---

Later that morning, classes resumed, but the atmosphere had changed. After the chaos of the trial and the breaking of Kairo's seals, subtle murmurs chased him down corridors. Students glanced over shoulders. Some in awe. Others in fear.

Professor Ilyas stood at the head of their Alchemy class, chalk tapping against the board.

"Today, we'll be combining elemental threads into hybrid catalysts. Normally, this would be dangerous for someone without threading control. But seeing as some of you enjoy blowing up buildings, I assume danger is just breakfast now."

Kairo avoided Samhael's smirk beside him.

"Kairo," Ilyas said, eyes gleaming, "you'll be demonstrating."

Kairo stood, sighing. "Would it kill you to let someone else be the guinea pig for once?"

"Yes," Ilyas said flatly. "You have main character syndrome. I exploit that. Now go."

Laughter rippled through the class.

As he approached the catalyst table, Kairo's fingers traced the rune-etched stone. He closed his eyes, feeling the fragmented whispers beneath the seals still locked inside him. Though one had shattered, twenty-three more pulsed like coiled serpents in his soul.

He focused, threading a sliver of wind essence with a droplet of crimson flame—a rare hybrid that shimmered like ruby lightning.

Gasps filled the room.

Even Professor Ilyas looked impressed. "Well. That wasn't supposed to work. Please don't explode."

The hybrid catalyst flickered, then stabilized.

"Showoff," muttered Samhael, elbowing him gently as he returned.

---

After class, Asher found them on the training field, tossing a small notebook to Kairo.

"Decoded it," he said. "The Veilwalkers' list of relics. Some of the names... you'll want to see."

Kairo flipped through it. His heart stuttered.

One relic stood out in black ink: The Voice Eater.

"What is it?" Samhael asked, noticing his reaction.

He swallowed. "A relic that silences everything. Sound, thought, even magic casting. My mother used to whisper stories about it. Said it could end wars by muting them."

"Let me guess," Asher said dryly. "The Veilwalkers want to use it for world peace?"

"More like peaceful domination," Kairo muttered.

"Or making sure no one complains about their bad cooking."

Kairo and Samhael burst into laughter, the tension briefly cracking.

---

That night, as the sky opened in a gentle crimson rain—an odd phenomenon known only to the academy during magical flux—the trio met under the Grand Tree in the Eastern Courtyard.

Rain fell in glowing droplets, and their cloaks shimmered beneath the light.

"I overheard something," Asher whispered. "There's a traitor inside the academy. Someone feeding information to the Veilwalkers."

Samhael's eyes narrowed. "Do we know who?"

Asher hesitated. "Only a codename. 'Solace.'"

Kairo leaned back against the tree, arms folded. "Solace... what an ironic name for a traitor."

"You sure it's not Professor Ilyas? He's sarcastic enough to be a villain."

Kairo chuckled. "Ilyas is too lazy to commit treason."

The rain continued to fall, crimson glowing like blood and memories.

Kairo looked up, the droplets catching on his lashes.

"Then it's time," he whispered, "we start whispering back."