The chaos of post Field Test dorm reassignments had the halls of Silver Streams in an uproar. Boxes levitated by frazzled upperclassmen zipped through the air, someone's enchanted trunk was singing a marching tune, and a flock of first years, including a bleary eyed Kael, wandered the corridors comparing room slips.
"I'm telling you, they've put me in the same wing as Corvin," Justin groaned, glaring at his assignment. "The universe hates me."
"Think of it as tactical surveillance," Daniel murmured, his shadow stretching longer than it should to peek around a corner.
Ellora clutched her new key and a thick botany notebook to her chest. "I'm just glad we're all still close. It feels… safer."
Kael nodded, but his agreement was distant. A low, grinding pressure, like continents slowly settling, had been a constant hum in his bones since he woke. It was different from the fierce, celestial will he'd felt in the Iron Concord that had been Vaelthryx, a presence of ember and aether, vast and distant. This was closer. Heavier. It felt like the ground beneath Brightgold itself was breathing in pain. He hadn't heard words, only a deep, resonant sorrow seeping up through the stone.
"Earth to Osborn." Dominic's dry voice cut through his reverie. Kael blinked, focusing on his roommate. Dominic had Ellora's grass stained notebook in his hand. "Campbell left this in the common room. Room 4B. I'm headed to the forge quarter to see about reinforcing my gear. You look like you're about to fall over. Go deliver this and then get some rest before you start hallucinating."
Kael took the notebook, the weight of it feeling strangely significant. "Right. Thanks, Dom."
But as Dominic shouldered his mining duffel and headed off, Kael felt the subterranean thrum intensify into a sharp, aching pull behind his eyes. He swayed on his feet.
"Kael?" Ellora's voice sounded far away.
"I'll… take it in a minute," he managed, handing the notebook back to a surprised Dominic. "I just need to… sit down."
Concern flashed across Dominic's face. "Fine. Don't die on the stairs. I'll do it." He took the notebook back, shot Kael a look that was more assessment than annoyance, and turned down the hall.
Kael leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. The taste of soil and crushed crystal filled his mouth.
Dominic found the correct door 4B without issue. He knocked, twice, firm and practical.
No answer.
He sighed. Ellora was probably still hauling her things. He'd just leave it inside. He tested the handle; it was unlocked. He pushed the door open.
"Campbell, you forgot your—" he began, and then froze.
It wasn't Ellora.
Sophia Vlad Skynyrd stood in the middle of the room, clad only in a sleek black training sports bra and matching shorts, one arm through the sleeve of her academy uniform jacket. Silver blonde hair, usually in its perfect ponytail, cascaded over one shoulder. The afternoon light from the window gilded the curve of her back and the defined muscle of her arms.
Time didn't stop for Dominic Vale. It accelerated into a rapid, tactical assessment 'Wrong room. Noble. Half dressed. High probability of catastrophic misunderstanding.' His face, however, betrayed nothing but a sudden, blank paralysis.
The notebook slipped from his numb fingers and hit the floor with a soft thump.
Sophia turned, icy blue eyes widening in shock, then igniting with volcanic fury. "You!" Her voice was a whip crack of outrage. "How dare you? Get out!"
Dominic's brain, optimized for cave ins and ore assessments, executed a swift reboot. His mouth opened. "Wrong room," he stated, the words flat and factual. He didn't stammer. He didn't blush. He simply stood there, looking for all the world like a miner who'd accidentally tunneled into the wrong seam, assessing the situation with detached practicality.
The sheer, unflappable calm of it seemed to short circuit Sophia's expected script of noble wrath. The fury in her eyes flickered, replaced by bewildered outrage. He wasn't gawking. He wasn't fleeing. He was just… waiting.
"What are you staring at?" she snapped, crossing her arms defensively, which only highlighted the situation further.
"The door number. It's 4B. I was told to deliver this to Ellora Campbell in 4B." His tone was dry, as if discussing the moisture content of limestone. "You are not Ellora Campbell. Therefore, an error has occurred." He gestured limply toward the fallen notebook. "My apologies for the disruption."
He bent, retrieved the notebook, placed it neatly on a nearby dresser, and turned to leave.
Sophia found her voice again, sharp with incredulity. "That's it? An 'error has occurred'? You barge in on me and just… diagnose it?"
Dominic paused at the doorway and looked back at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. His light brown eyes held no guilt, only a trace of weary patience. "Would you prefer I screamed? It seemed inefficient." He gave a short, perfunctory nod. "Good day, Lady Skynyrd."
He stepped out and closed the door quietly behind him.
In the hallway, he let out a slow, controlled breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A faint, uncharacteristic heat prickled at the back of his neck. 'Well. That happened.' He walked away, his stride even, his mind already compartmentalizing the incident under 'Unfortunate Logistics.'
Back in her room, Sophia stared at the closed door. The expected storm of humiliation and rage… hadn't arrived. He hadn't been leering. He hadn't been cowering. He'd been… annoyingly logical. Treating her like a mislabeled crate. 'An error has occurred.' The sheer, absurd gall of it!
A sound escaped her not a laugh, but a sharp, incredulous puff of air. The rigid, angry part of her was still offended. The other part, the strategic part, replayed his unshakable calm. He hadn't seen a noble daughter in a state of undress. He'd seen a problem in a room. The miner's son was… stranger than she'd thought.
She finished dressing, her movements sharp. As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on the notebook on her dresser. 'Ellora Campbell - Botanical Studies'. Her lips quirked, against her will. He'd even delivered the item as ordered, mission accomplished, despite the… complication.
Kael didn't make it to his new room. The grinding pressure pulled him down a side corridor, toward a seldom used courtyard shaded by Lorri's Bough. He sank onto a stone bench, the world tilting. Sleep heavy, immediate, and unnatural dragged him under.
He did not dream of fire or flight.
He dreamed of burial.
He was deep, deep below the glittering spires of Brightgold, in a chamber that was not a chamber but a knotted fist of ley lines. In the center, fused into the living rock and crystalline latticework, was a being of sublime, terrestrial majesty. An Earth-Soul Dragon. Its form was less flesh and more geological essence scales like polished tectonic plates, eyes like deep seams of glowing topaz, a mane of crystallized magma frozen in time. Adamantine chains, etched with viciously complex runes, did not just bind it; they pierced it, weaving through its stony flesh and into the glowing ley lines that pulsed with stolen vitality.
The dragon did not move. It could not. Its agony was not a scream, but a low, perpetual tremor the vibration of a heart being forced to beat for a city that did not know its name. Kael felt its consciousness, a vast, slow mind suffocating under the weight of sacred duty made into profane slavery.
DIRT… IN THE MOUTH… the thought came, not in words, but in the sensation of choking on one's own essence. ROOTS… CUT… SONG… SILENCED…
The dream was soundless, airless. Kael felt the profound sorrow, the directionless rage of a mountain forced to be a gear in a machine.
CHILD OF BROKEN PATHS… The dragon's topaz eyes found him in the dream. YOU TASTE OF SKY-FIRE AND STARDUST… AND OF THE DEEP EARTH'S PAIN… YOU HEAR THE LAND'S CRY. FIND THE HEARTSTONE… THE GOLDEN FELDSPAR… IT HOLDS THE TRUE SONG… THE KEY TO THE SILENCE…
An image flashed: a brilliant, uncut golden crystal singing with a pure, fundamental frequency that made the binding runes sicken and fray.
Then, another presence brushed the dream. A shadow against the sun. A whisper of ancient, boundless fire and cool, endless void. Vaelthryx distant, observing, a single, immense concept was transmitted, clear and sharp as a star:
THEY CAGE THE WORLD'S BONES. THEY WILL COME FOR ITS HEART. YOU ARE THE THREAD BETWEEN. DO NOT SNAP.
The earth-dragon's form began to dissolve into the crushing stone, its final thought a grinding plea: DO NOT LET THE SONG DIE…
"Kael."
He jolted awake, gasping, his mouth full of the phantom taste of grit and minerals. Dominic stood over him, his expression unreadable. The courtyard was dark.
"You were grinding your teeth loud enough to scare the birds," Dominic said. "And talking about stones and songs."
Kael pushed himself up, the dream's urgency clinging to him like a second skin. "Did you… deliver the book?"
A muscle twitched in Dominic's jaw. "Yeah. Wrong room. Skynyrd's room. It was… an event."
Kael stared at him, the cosmic terror of the chained Earth-Soul Dragon momentarily overshadowed by this new, human shaped disaster. "You walked in on Sophia Skynyrd?"
"She was mostly dressed," Dominic said, his tone implying this was the only relevant detail. "It's fine. I categorized it." He offered a hand to pull Kael up. "Come on. You need real sleep. And tomorrow, you can tell me why you're dreaming about geology and why the air tastes like regret."
Kael let himself be hauled upright. The deep, earthy sorrow was now a specific, urgent weight in his chest. 'Find the Heartstone'. The command was etched into his soul. And over it, the warning from the stars: 'You are the thread between.'
He looked at Dominic, his pragmatic, unshakeable friend who had just faced down a furious thunder noble without blinking, and felt a surge of gratitude. The path ahead was shrouded in ancient pain and cosmic duty. But he wouldn't be walking it alone.
"Tomorrow," Kael agreed, his voice rough. "Tomorrow, everything changes."