The sky split open at dusk.
One moment, the Academy was cloaked in calm. The next—a sound like glass shattering across the heavens. A fissure appeared above the spires, glowing white-hot, reality itself peeling back.
Lilith stood atop the east tower, eyes blazing. "That's not a rift," she said. "It's a summon."
"From what?" I asked, my voice dry.
"The Beyond," she replied. "Something's coming through."
Magic surged across the wards. Professors and students scrambled to formation. Valmira and Seraphina moved into position. Even Zephira looked rattled.
Then it emerged.
A figure, tall and faceless, cloaked in tattered gold. No eyes. No mouth. But the pressure it carried dropped everyone to their knees.
Except me.
Because the shard in my palm burned like fire, and I felt my legs moving before I thought.
I stood in front of the fissure, arms raised.
And spoke not with voice, but with light.
The figure paused.
Then, slowly, it stepped back into the rift—and the sky sealed shut like a wound.
Everyone stared at me.
Lilith descended slowly, eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
I looked down at the shard. "I don't know."
But it had spoken for me.
And something had listened.