Chapter 11 – Echoes of the Void
The Academy's Grand Library was near silent, save for the occasional flick of a page or the soft hum of enchanted lamps. Shelves stretched endlessly upward, and floating platforms drifted along the aisles. Kael sat hunched over a weathered tome, its cover marked with an ancient symbol—three interlocking circles and a jagged line.
"Spatial theories and the Voidstream," he murmured. His eyes scanned diagrams that looked like chaotic scribbles to anyone else.
The concept was difficult—dangerously obscure. But Kael had a theory.
If Blink operated by briefly tearing through space, then there had to be something in that in-between. A realm. A current. A way to extend beyond three meters.
But every record he read came with warnings.
"Voidstream is not travel. It is tearing."
"Without a stable anchor, you will vanish."
"Madness lives between steps."
Still, Kael felt it—deep in his bones—that this was the path to mastering his magic. Not just using it faster. But understanding it.
Footsteps approached. He didn't look up until Lyra dropped a bag of food beside him.
"You're still in here?" she asked, flopping into a chair. "It's almost midnight."
"I'm close to something," he muttered, eyes still glued to the page.
Lyra tilted her head, then leaned to glance at the book. "Voidstream? Sounds dangerous. I like it."
Kael chuckled. "That makes one of us."
She paused, then added more softly, "Just… don't push yourself until you break."
That drew his gaze. For a second, neither spoke. Then Kael offered a small smile.
"I won't. Not until I've broken the system first."
The next morning, the Academy courtyard buzzed with tension. A new class had been announced—an advanced combat simulation course under the notorious instructor Grave Ashar, a former war mage rumored to have lost his entire unit in a spatial collapse.
He was tall, gray-haired, and carried himself like a man who'd died once and came back wrong.
"You're not special," Grave said, his voice like grinding steel. "None of you are. Magic doesn't care about talent—it only respects blood, sweat, and survival."
He scanned the students until his eyes landed on Kael.
"You. Blink boy."
Kael straightened.
Grave narrowed his eyes. "Use it. Blink behind me."
The class murmured.
Kael blinked—three meters forward, appearing behind Grave.
Before he could speak, Grave spun and jammed a magic-infused cane toward Kael's chest.
Kael barely blinked again—off to the side this time—narrowly avoiding the strike.
"Too slow," Grave said flatly. "You're dead. Try again."
Kael reset his position, sweat prickling his neck. He tried again. Blink. Feint. Shift. Grave met every move with terrifying precision, as if he'd already seen it happen.
The third time, Kael appeared behind him—but Grave didn't move.
Instead, his voice echoed.
"Don't just teleport. Own the space you arrive in. Or you're just a ghost."
Kael froze. Then nodded.
He blinked back.
Later that afternoon, the training field was quiet. Kael stood alone, repeating Blink after Blink, his mana core aching from overuse.
"Own the space…"
He pictured himself not escaping with Blink—but arriving with force. With purpose. Momentum.
He blinked forward—then immediately lashed out with a punch, slamming into a training dummy. It wasn't elegant, but it was a start.
In the distance, Juno watched from the fence.
"Crazy idiot," he muttered affectionately. "He's gonna kill himself practicing like that."
Beside him, Elith crossed her arms. "No. He's getting stronger."
That night, Kael returned to the dorm. His arms were sore. His mind even more so. But when he stepped into his room, he found a note on his bed.
The paper was thick, embossed with a royal seal.
His heart skipped.
He opened it.
To Kael Ardan,
You are requested at the Grand Tower balcony at midnight. This is not a command, but a personal request.
—Selene Ardentis
Kael stared for a moment.
"…What now?"
)
You are requested at the Grand Tower balcony at midnight. This is not a formal summons, but I would be… disappointed if you ignored it.
— Selene Ardentis
Kael stared at the note for a long time. He didn't know what to make of it.
He wasn't exactly close with Princess Selene—sharp, cold, flawless. They'd barely spoken outside of training duels and classroom debates, where she never hesitated to cut him down with her words. And yet… there had always been something beneath her gaze when she looked at him. Curiosity? Resentment? Something else?
Midnight came quickly.
The wind was sharp at the top of the Grand Tower, carrying the scent of old stone and moonlight. Selene stood near the edge, arms crossed, black hair flowing like ink in the night air.
Kael approached quietly.
"You came," she said without turning.
"I figured disappointing royalty was a bad idea."
That earned a small, reluctant smirk from her.
"You're smarter than you look," she said. "Sometimes."
Kael walked beside her, leaning on the railing.
The city below was glowing—warm windows, floating lanterns drifting above rooftops, enchanted wards shimmering faintly.
"You didn't bring me here just to insult me, did you?" he asked.
"No," Selene said. "I brought you here because… people are noticing you, Kael. The instructors. The nobles. Even the old court mages."
He blinked. "Noticing what? That I can barely teleport farther than a chair?"
"That you're dangerous," she said quietly. "Not because of power. But because you don't follow the path they laid out."
Kael stared at her. Selene turned to meet his eyes—those deep blue irises catching the moonlight.
"They're watching you. Which means…" She took a step closer. "You need to be careful."
Kael wasn't sure if it was a threat, a warning, or something else entirely.
Then she added, almost too softly to hear, "I just thought someone should tell you."
And just like that, the moment cracked.
Selene straightened, expression cool again. "This never happened. Goodnight, Kael."
She vanished into the stairwell before he could reply.
Back in the dorm, Kael found Lyra fast asleep in the common room, books scattered around her, a plate of now-cold food nearby. She must've been waiting for him.
He smiled faintly, pulled a blanket over her shoulders, then quietly returned to his room.
As he lay in bed, thoughts swirled through his mind—Voidstream, Grave Ashar's words, Selene's warning.
He knew one thing for certain:
If they were starting to notice him, he couldn't afford to stay weak.
Tomorrow, he would push harder. Learn faster. Blink farther.
Even if it tore him apart.