Who is Votum?

It had been four months since Wildglow.

Four months since Sydney, Rei, and I staggered out of that frozen hell, bruised but breathing.

No one really died.

Not permanently, at least.

Just enough to leave scars that you feel when the nights quiet and your pillow gets uncomfortable.

Wildglow had been a test of courage, they said. Proof we could work as a team.

A lesson every mage needed: trust, patience, knowing when to stand together instead of apart.

Most days, I wondered if we'd really learned it.

Sometimes, when the halls fell silent, I'd catch myself picturing the three of us a year from now—maybe we'd still stand side by side.

Or maybe I'd end up fighting Rei until one of us stopped moving, leaving Sydney with nothing but our ashes and guilt.

That thought always spiraled too fast, too dark.

I shook it off.

The Academy had appointed me a broomstick.

I didn't know why. Maybe because I was Velthra. Maybe because they thought the Prodigy of the First Years deserved a clear view of the empty airspace above the campus.

No one else used it. Too cold, too exposed, or maybe just too pointless. They said wizards were given brooms for travel. A mark of privilege.

Freedom.

But up here, the sky felt like a cage.

In a way like it was holding its breath.

Since the excitement of Wildglow faded, the Disciples from the other Founder Houses had finally returned. I hadn't seen them yet.

I hadn't even heard whispers of their voices in the halls. Only Rei. And if the others were anything like him… I might have to kill them, too.

Are you journaling to yourself?

Her voice slipped into my mind like a blade under ribs. Silky, amused. The Leviathan.

Are you writing it down? I shot back, words edged with a tired bite.

…Maybe, she purred, laughter curling through the shadows of my thoughts.

I sighed, breath fogging the cold night air.

My hand tightened on the broom's handle.

Far below, the Academy lights flickered like dying stars. And I pushed the broom higher.

I hovered alone on my broomstick, drifting high above the Academy spires.

The wind cut across my face, sharp enough to numb my skin. Each breath came slow, cold, fogging the night around me.

The broom hummed with quiet power beneath me, like it could sense the storm crawling closer.

Which it was.

In my reminiscing, I saw Kairos and Virenth in the ashfall that remained after my Father's death.

The quiet promise in their eyes.

Something simple that felt heavier than any blade. I remembered the night Father coughed blood onto fresh snow.

Then the next day his voice cracking as he forced me to write two names: Kairos Durango. Virenth.

And then the last words he managed…

…The one I forgot.

Beware of Votum de Caelo.

I'd repeated those words so many times they blurred between warning and prayer.

But tonight, alone in the sky, something shifted.

The question rose sharp, unbidden, like a blade drawn from my own ribs.

Who is Votum?

The name felt old. Bitter.

A wound that refused to close.

My father had either feared it or was aware of it. Kairos and Virenth flinched at it. And I… I realized I had no idea what it truly meant.

No idea who it was that could have hunted his nightmares. Or what might be hunting mine.

A sudden gust rocked the broom.

I clenched the handle tight, heart hammering in sync with the thunder rolling in from the north.

I pulled the broom to a stop.

Hovering above the tallest tower like a copper rod. The wind howled around me, teeth of ice biting my cheeks. My breath came ragged.

The words slipped out before I could swallow them. "Who is Votum?"

The name cut the night.

The air felt colder, heavier.

I started turning the broom, panic licking at the edges of my mind. I need to find Kairos, I thought. I need to ask him what my father was so afraid of.

The broom swung wide, nosing down toward the Academy gates. Overhead, the clouds thickened, devouring the stars. Darkness pooled across the sky, bruising it black.

I pushed the broom faster.

The air crackled. Alive, electric. Wrong.

The broom vibrated under me like it wanted to buck me off. Then the sky tore itself open.

A bolt of lightning screamed from the clouds, white-hot and hungry, arrowing straight for my chest. I didn't think. I moved.

Mana flared beneath my ribs, the world snapped sideways. I reappeared twenty paces to the left, boots slamming down on the broom just as the lightning blasted where I'd been.

The broom cracked apart beneath me, wood and magic shards spinning into the night.

That wasn't a storm, I thought, chest heaving. That was—

Her voice slipped into my skull, dark and velvet, laced with sharp urgency.

Get back inside, the Leviathan hissed. Now. The next one won't miss.

"What the hell was that??"

A warning.

I crashed into the courtyard outside Velthra's dorms, the broom shattering across the snow as I hit the ground. Pain flared sharp through my side as I pushed myself up, breath coming in short, cold bursts.

I slipped through the dormitory doors, moving fast down the hall where no one could see me. The torches flickered as I passed.

At the end of the corridor, I reached the tall bookshelf. My fingers found the hidden rune carved into its side. I pressed it, and the shelf shifted open with a low groan, revealing a narrow stairwell spiraling down.

I took the steps two at a time. At the bottom, the passage opened into the Velthra Archive.

A wide chamber lit by floating lanterns, shelves stacked with old books.

Kairos stood near a table cluttered with scrolls. He looked up first, one brow lifting. "Huh. Look who wandered in."

Virenth turned from a pile of ledgers, eyes focusing when they landed on me. "Hello, Katsu."

I caught my breath, voice rough. "Yo."

Virenth stepped closer, boots soft on the stone floor. His eyes flicked over me, sharp and searching. "What made you come here?" he asked, voice low. "Why are you out of breath?"

I wiped a line of blood from my lip, breathing hard. "Someone tried to kill me," I said. "Lightning. From the sky. It wasn't a storm."

Kairos' expression tightened, mouth a flat line. "Did you see them?" he asked, already moving to grab a folded map off the table.

I shook my head. "No. But it was deliberate. Tracked me midair."

Virenth's gaze hardened. He rested a hand on my shoulder, firm but not rough. "You did the right thing coming here," he said. "The Archive is warded. No one can touch you here."

Kairos laid the map flat, eyes darting over the lines. "Where exactly were you when it happened?" he asked without looking up.

I stepped closer, pointing at a mark on the first-year campus. "Above the spire. I was turning back when it hit."

Virenth glanced at Kairos. "That close," he muttered. He looked back at me. "Good instincts, Katsu. But next time, don't go alone. Ever."

Kairos' eyes flicked up, cold and steady.

"You have enemies now. Act like it."

"That's the thing…"

I said, words coming slow, like they were dragging themselves out of my chest.

"Enemies? No. My father had enemies. And I'm inheriting them, aren't I?" I looked between them, my voice dropping. "I should've come here with a fake name."

Virenth nodded once, eyes shadowed.

"You should have."

"So why didn't I?"

I asked, frustration curling in my gut.

Virenth's gaze didn't waver.

"Because you were grieving."

I let out a shaky breath.

"I still am," I admitted. My voice cracked, quiet in the high ceiling of the Archive. "And I think I should've had a fake name."

Silence settled over us. The floating lanterns above flickered, the air thick with unspoken things. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

I lifted my head, meeting their eyes.

"Who the hell is Votum de Caelo?"

The question slammed into the room like a stone.

Every voice in the Archive stilled. Even the distant shuffling of books and scrolls fell silent.

I felt dozens of eyes on me.

Velthra's other scholars and wardens frozen where they stood, breath held.

A voice broke the silence from somewhere deeper in the stacks, hushed but sharp.

"The kid knows his name?"

It wasn't really a question. More a stunned statement aimed at Kairos.

Another voice, older, rasping, drifted from the shadows of the Archive. "He was… perhaps his father's greatest rival. Perhaps even his enemy."

The speaker hesitated, the silence stretching thin and brittle. "Although… if our records speak true… I have already said too much."

I turned back to Kairos, heart pounding in my ears. "What does that mean?" I demanded.

"Why was my father afraid of him?"

Kairos exhaled, slow and heavy, like he was weighing every word.

"Votum de Caelo isn't just a person,"

He said, voice low enough that only those closest could hear. "He's—..."

"We meant to talk to you about this sooner. Thought it was too soon. You even knew his name, which is a problem. Your dad must have had faith in your strength to hold the power that came with it."