Part 4:Embers and Affinities
Morning came too early.
Kael hadn't slept much. His bed in Dorm Nine felt like a stone plank stuffed with old wool, and his thoughts had kept him spinning long after the lights dimmed. Even after he'd closed his eyes, the memory of the glass floor—rippling like water beneath him—clung to his mind like frost.
It was still dark when the wardbell rang, soft and echoing through the walls like a distant chime. Kael groaned, half rolled off his cot, and stumbled into his uniform.
The robes were dark again—midnight blue with silver trim this time—and the House Umbra crest shimmered over his heart like it was alive.
One day at a time, he told himself.
He stepped out into the cold morning air, breath misting as he crossed the stone paths toward the South Tower.
The tower itself leaned slightly to the east, vines creeping up one side, birds fluttering through narrow slits in the stone. Kael reached the top floor just as the other students were filing in. There were about ten of them—mostly older, already whispering in circles and comparing notes.
Only Lira stood apart from them, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.
Her gaze snapped to Kael the moment he walked in.
"You're late," she said, deadpan.
"I'm… early, actually."
She raised a brow. "Exactly. That's late by Highwind standards. You want the best seat? Then you don't just show up. You arrive."
Kael blinked. "What does that even mean?"
She rolled her eyes but didn't answer. Instead, she stepped past him and chose a seat near the front—second row, just off-center.
Kael hesitated, then followed her.
"Why'd you save me a seat?" he asked.
"I didn't."
"But no one's sitting here."
"Maybe I enjoy silence. And you seem too stunned by your own heartbeat to talk much."
Kael gave a small grin, surprised. For someone who kept acting like she didn't care, she sure noticed a lot.
She noticed him.
Their instructor arrived in a gust of wind and ash.
Vaelyn Oross swept into the room, her crimson coat trailing behind her like fire stitched into silk. Her amber eyes burned brighter in daylight, and Kael was certain now: they weren't colored lenses or clever enchantment. Her eyes were made of flame.
"Good," she said without preamble. "You're all awake. Or at least pretending to be. That's a start."
She turned and flicked her fingers. The stone wall behind her shimmered, then became translucent, revealing a view of the open sky. Wind howled against the room but didn't cross the threshold.
"We begin with Foundational Spellweaving. If that sounds dull, leave now. If you think you already know it, leave faster."
No one moved.
"Excellent. You all lack wisdom and courage."
Lira smirked beside Kael. He was starting to understand why she liked this woman.
Vaelyn raised one hand. "Spellweaving is not a spell. It is not a chant or a movement. It is a language—the one magic listens to. And like any language, it changes depending on who's speaking."
She walked down the aisle slowly, eyes skimming each face.
"Some of you will be fluent. Most of you will mumble and lie. But if you're lucky, and stubborn, and desperate enough…" She stopped right in front of Kael. "You might say something real."
Kael met her gaze.
She said nothing, just watched him for a moment… then moved on.
"Let's test your truth," she said.
With another wave of her hand, a circular rune flared in the center of the room. Arcs of pale energy danced between lines of geometric patterns, spinning slowly in the air.
"Touch it. One at a time."
The first student approached, a tall girl from House Solari. She stepped into the circle, pressed her hand forward—and a flare of golden light rose around her. The rune spun faster, revealing the words "Affinity: Light. Minor Conjuration."
Others followed. Fire, water, metal, ice.
Each student stood before the rune and revealed a thread of their soul.
When Lira's turn came, the air around her tightened. She didn't hesitate—just stepped into the circle like she owned it.
The rune flared.
"Affinity: Wind. High Precision. Threaded Manipulation."
The other students whispered.
Lira turned, bored. "What?" she muttered.
Then… Kael's turn.
He hesitated.
"Now, boy," Vaelyn said. "Don't let the floor outshine you."
Kael stepped forward, chest tight.
He touched the rune.
The world fell silent.
The circle didn't just flare—it exploded with light.
Not one color, but many. Fire. Shadow. Stone. Light. Wind. A dozen threads of color snapped through the air like lightning, spinning around him in chaotic arcs.
The rune didn't give a simple answer.
Instead, the center burned away.
A symbol rose in its place—an ancient crest of fire twisting through a circle of ash.
Silence gripped the room.
Then came the word.
"Affinity: Gateborn."
Vaelyn stepped forward instantly, snuffing the magic with one gesture. Her eyes flicked to Kael. Then to the room.
"Class dismissed."
"But—"
"I said go."
The others filtered out in confusion and fear.
Kael stood frozen.
Lira lingered just a little longer.
She didn't say anything—but her eyes weren't mocking now. They were wary. Protective, even.
Then she turned and left.
Once they were alone, Vaelyn leaned against the desk and crossed her arms.
"You weren't supposed to activate that mark yet."
Kael blinked. "I… what mark?"
"You think it was luck that brought you here? That your name glowed because the stars liked your face?"
She laughed once, bitterly.
"There hasn't been a true Gateborn in a hundred years. Not since the Sundered Accord."
"I don't know what that is."
"You will. And when you do, you'll wish you weren't one."
She circled him slowly.
"I don't know who marked you. But that symbol was ancient. Forbidden. There are forces in this world that have been hunting Gateborn since the old kingdoms died. You just told them you're still alive."
Kael's throat was dry. "I didn't mean to—"
"No one ever means to. That's how the gates open. That's how the monsters slip through."
She stepped close, voice low.
"Listen to me, Kael. You're not ready. But the storm has already seen you. And it's coming."
Outside the tower, Kael stumbled down the steps, chest pounding.
He didn't understand half of what Vaelyn had said. But her words still echoed like thunder.
Gateborn. Hunted. Chosen.
His parents were dead. His home was ash. He was just a poor boy from a dirt street in a nameless town.
So why did the gates know his name?