Chapter 17 – Threads in the Dark

Kael couldn't sleep.

Not because of nightmares—they had grown strangely familiar by now—but because his sigil wouldn't stop whispering. Not in words. In pulses. In impressions. Like it was reacting to the waking world even while he lay in bed.

He stared at the ceiling, thoughts tangled like a broken loom.

Rin's words echoed in his mind: "Maybe you don't have to do it alone."

But whatever this was—this unraveling of old lives and deeper truths—he couldn't ask her to carry it.

Not when he didn't even know what "it" was yet.

He rolled out of bed, grabbed his coat, and headed toward the observatory tower.

The night air bit at his face as Kael climbed the worn stone stairs. At the top, the dome was partially open, exposing a sky speckled with cold stars.

A figure stood there, silhouetted by starlight.

Kael froze. "You always hang out here at this ungodly hour, or am I just lucky?"

The figure turned.

Rin.

"Could ask you the same thing," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Couldn't sleep?"

Kael shrugged. "The sigil's acting up."

Rin leaned against the brass railing. "Mine too. Not like yours, though. It's… louder when I'm near you."

"Comforting," Kael muttered.

She looked at him. "Kael… I think they're connected. Not just the sigils. Us. All of us who have them. The closer we get, the more they react."

He nodded. "Like threads pulling toward a loom."

"Or a trap."

Kael's lips twitched. "You're supposed to be the optimistic one."

"Not tonight."

The next morning, the Academy halls buzzed with activity.

The announcement hit like a thunderclap.

"Trial Combat Season: Advanced Track Initiation."

Trial Combat wasn't just dueling. It was where students showcased their mastery of sigils under pressure—both physical and mental. Successful candidates were fast-tracked to elite training, mentorships, even field work outside the Academy.

But there was a catch.

Sigil Overexertion.If you pushed your sigil too hard—if your mind cracked before your body—you didn't just lose.

You broke.

And sometimes, the sigil broke you back.

Kael and Rin exchanged glances as the instructors explained the rules.

"We'll be paired randomly," Rin whispered.

Kael's eyes were locked on a specific figure across the courtyard.

Malric.

Top student. Ruthless. Strategic. Carried himself like a knife disguised as a handshake.

Kael had always suspected there was more to him than the golden-boy routine.

Now, as Malric's eyes met his across the courtyard and lingered a heartbeat too long, Kael knew.

He remembers too.

Two days later, Kael stood inside the combat ring.

A silver dome shimmered around the arena, soundproof and reinforced with sigil-etched metal. A small crowd of students watched from behind viewing panels. Instructors stood nearby, grim-faced and silent.

His opponent?

Not Malric.

Lira Denvin.Fast. Elegant. Deadly with kinetic sigils. Rumored to have mastered dual-layer casting.

She smiled at him politely. "Try not to embarrass yourself, Kael."

"Try not to blink," Kael said, smiling back. "I'm prettier when I move."

The horn sounded.

She struck first—lightning-fast arcs of kinetic force shot toward him like invisible blades.

Kael dropped into a roll, twisting his sigil mid-motion. He didn't block. He redirected. Using a mirrored reflection glyph, he bent the kinetic strikes into the air behind him.

Lira raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Kael smirked. "Round one: sarcasm."

She didn't laugh.

Instead, she layered two glyphs at once—wind acceleration and fragmentation—and hurled a flurry of needles toward him.

Kael dropped low, arms swept wide, casting a domain sigil around himself—a half-formed version of what he'd seen in the ruins. It wasn't perfect.

But it bent space just enough.

The needles veered, missing by inches.

The crowd murmured.

Lira's expression shifted from amused to focused.

She drew her sigil across the ground, forming a large-scale glyph Kael didn't recognize.

"Alright," he muttered, "guess we're skipping foreplay."

The sigil expanded.

Kael felt pressure on his chest—weight—as gravity itself thickened.

He dropped to one knee.

Lira stepped forward, calm and precise. "Your sigil's clever. But brute force has its place."

Kael's hands trembled, not from fear, but from effort.

His mind screamed to use the fractured glyph from his vision—the one that changed shapes depending on thought and intention.

But it wasn't ready.

Neither was he.

Instead, he did something stupid.

He closed his eyes.

Focused.

And instead of fighting her gravity sigil...

...he amplified it.

Lira gasped as her own force doubled back on her.

Kael had mirrored the resonance and looped it.

She staggered.

He pushed forward, launching into a sweep that knocked her balance.

In a second, the match was over.

The horn sounded.

Kael stood, breath ragged, eyes glazed with glowing traces.

His sigil shimmered. Tense. Hungry.

The crowd was silent.

Until Malric clapped. Slow. Deliberate.

"Well played," he said, smiling. "Almost made me hope I'd be your next opponent."

Kael met his eyes. "You will be. And I will embarrass you."

That night, Kael stood at the mirror in his room.

His sigil pulsed with a slow, steady light.

And he realized something terrifying.

In the duel… he hadn't just reacted.

He had enjoyed it.

Not the fight. Not the win.

The power.

And that, more than anything else, frightened him.