The sound faded.
Yet Kael still felt it.
Not in his ears.
In his chest.
Deep inside his soul.
The ancient voice had spoken only four words.
Find the Candidate.
But those words lingered like an echo trapped beneath his ribs.
The academy courtyard had gone silent.
Even the birds had stopped singing.
Master Arlen stood motionless beneath the tree.
His expression had become impossibly serious.
Kael had never seen him look afraid before.
Now he wasn't so sure.
"What was that?"
Kael finally asked.
Arlen didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed toward the distant Black Forest.
Toward the sea of ancient trees stretching across the western horizon.
"The bell."
The old instructor spoke quietly.
"Should not exist."
Kael frowned.
"What bell?"
Arlen slowly turned toward him.
"The Bell of Roots."
The name meant nothing to Kael.
Yet something about it felt familiar.
Like hearing a forgotten song.
"The Bell of Roots?" he repeated.
The old man nodded.
"According to legend, it rang only when the Underforest faced catastrophe."
"The Underforest?"
Another unfamiliar word.
Arlen sighed.
"As I said..."
A faint smile appeared.
"The Kingdom's understanding of the world is incomplete."
Before Kael could ask more—
A second bell echoed.
Much quieter.
Farther away.
Yet unmistakable.
BOOOOOONG.
The sound rolled beneath the earth like distant thunder.
Several academy students cried out in surprise.
Others looked around nervously.
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The bell had been heard this time.
Not only by Kael.
Everyone had heard it.
A group of instructors hurried across the courtyard.
One stopped beside Arlen.
"Master."
The man looked concerned.
"The western watchtowers are reporting tremors."
"How many?"
"Seven so far."
Kael noticed the instructor's hands were shaking.
That alone told him how serious this was.
Arlen nodded once.
"Begin evacuation preparations."
The younger instructor froze.
"Evacuation?"
A terrible silence followed.
Then Arlen repeated himself.
"Immediately."
The man rushed away.
Kael felt cold.
Evacuating Havenfall?
That wasn't something people discussed lightly.
The city had stood for centuries.
Protected by knights.
Walls.
The academy.
Yet Arlen was preparing for the possibility.
"What isn't he telling me?"
Kael muttered.
"Quite a lot."
The answer came immediately.
Arlen didn't even sound guilty.
Kael stared.
The old man chuckled.
"Some truths require context."
"That's a frustrating answer."
"Usually."
For the first time since arriving...
Arlen motioned toward the academy training grounds.
"Walk with me."
The grounds were mostly empty.
Students had already been ordered indoors.
Only a few instructors remained.
Most looked worried.
Several kept glancing toward the western horizon.
Kael followed Arlen across the field.
Eventually they stopped near a stone platform used for combat practice.
"Tell me."
Arlen folded his hands behind his back.
"When you saw the creature yesterday..."
"The one without Threads?"
Kael nodded.
"What did you feel?"
The question surprised him.
Not what he saw.
What he felt.
He thought carefully.
Then answered honestly.
"Wrong."
Arlen's eyes brightened.
"Wrong?"
Kael nodded slowly.
"It looked alive."
"But it wasn't."
"It was like..."
He searched for the words.
"...Like something pretending."
The old instructor smiled.
"Excellent."
Kael blinked.
Nobody had ever called his answers excellent before.
Usually they called them confusing.
"The creature was an Abyss Spawn."
Arlen said.
"The Kingdom classifies them as monsters."
"But that's not entirely accurate."
Kael listened carefully.
"Monsters belong to the world."
Arlen continued.
"Wolves."
"Drakes."
"Forest serpents."
"They possess Threads."
"They possess a place in the weave."
His expression darkened.
"Abyss Spawn do not."
The words sent a chill through Kael.
Because they matched exactly what he had seen.
The creature had been empty.
A hole in reality.
"Then what are they?"
Arlen looked west.
Toward the forest.
Toward the roots beneath it.
Toward something only he seemed to understand.
"An absence."
The answer sounded familiar.
Painfully familiar.
For a moment—
A memory flashed.
A silver tree.
A woman crying.
Darkness swallowing Threads.
A hunger.
The vision vanished immediately.
Kael staggered.
His head throbbed.
"Kael?"
"I'm fine."
A lie.
A terrible one.
Arlen studied him carefully.
But did not press.
The old instructor eventually led him toward a storage building near the edge of the grounds.
Inside rested dozens of practice weapons.
Wooden swords.
Training spears.
Blunted axes.
Nothing remarkable.
Except for one object.
A measuring crystal.
Smaller than the one in the city square.
Yet clearly similar.
Kael froze.
The crystal.
Arlen noticed.
"Do you know why I invited you here?"
Kael shook his head.
"Because your Thread count never made sense."
Silence.
The words hit harder than expected.
Twenty-five.
The number that had followed him his entire life.
The number people whispered about.
The number that defined him.
Arlen approached the crystal.
"When you were tested..."
He rested one hand against the stone.
"I reviewed the records personally."
Kael blinked.
"You did?"
"I did."
The old man looked thoughtful.
"The examiner tested you three times."
Kael nodded.
"And every result returned twenty-five."
"Exactly."
Arlen smiled slightly.
"Which is impossible."
Kael's heart skipped.
"What?"
The old instructor turned toward him.
For the first time since they met...
His eyes carried genuine excitement.
"Because twenty-five isn't weak."
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Arlen pointed toward the crystal.
"It's incomplete."
That word again.
Always that word.
"What does that mean?"
Kael asked.
Arlen rested his hand on the measuring stone.
"It means..."
His voice became softer.
More careful.
Almost reverent.
"...I believe the crystal is only counting what remains visible."
Kael stared.
"What remains visible?"
The old instructor nodded.
Then spoke the words that would change everything.
"Kael."
"I don't think your soul is weak."
A pause.
"I think it's broken."
The world seemed to stop.
Broken?
Kael couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't move.
Every explanation he had imagined.
Every possibility.
Every fear.
None had prepared him for that answer.
His soul wasn't weak.
It was damaged.
And somewhere far beneath the Black Forest...
Ancient black Threads stirred.
A voice whispered through forgotten ruins.
"At last..."
"...he begins to understand."