The dawn came too quickly, brushing the earth with light that seemed too gentle for the storms swirling in Caelum's chest. The weight of Serapha's words—the knowledge of what he was—had settled into his bones, a constant hum beneath his skin.
He rose early, as always, and set off toward the training grounds. His footsteps were soft, almost hesitant, as though he could slip between the cracks of the world without anyone noticing.
But Serapha would notice. She always did.
"You're early," she said when he reached their usual clearing. Her voice was calm, like the silence before a storm, but Caelum caught the tension behind her eyes.
"You told me to listen. That's what I'm doing," he replied. "To everything."
She studied him for a moment, and then nodded. "Then you're ready for the next lesson."
He stepped forward, waiting for her to give him direction. But Serapha merely stood there, her staff resting lightly in her hands, her gaze far-off. The quiet stretched, and the silence felt heavier than it ever had before.
"The Arcanum has its eyes on you," she said after a long pause.
Caelum frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're not the first person with your kind of magic," she said, her voice lower now, more serious. "The last Nullform… they were an experiment. They came from Durell."
He felt his heart skip a beat. "Durell? The destroyed kingdom?"
Serapha's gaze hardened, her eyes clouding over with something Caelum couldn't quite read. "Yes. The Arcanum wiped it from existence after the Weave Wars. But they didn't destroy everything. The remnants of those with your magic… they were scattered. Suppressed."
"So, the Arcanum knows about me?" Caelum asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "They've been watching me?"
"The moment you activated the relic, they knew," Serapha said. "Your very presence is an anomaly. And they will come for you."
Caelum's mind raced. "What do I do?"
Serapha's gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained somber. "For now, you stay quiet. You continue your training. You don't draw attention. The more you can control your magic, the safer you'll be."
"What's the plan, then? To hide forever?"
Her lips tightened. "Not forever. But until you understand your magic, until you understand what it means to be Nullform."
A strange sensation washed over him—he didn't quite understand it yet, but there was a faint pull. A quiet yearning to explore what this power could be.
Before Caelum could speak again, a rustle in the trees interrupted their conversation.
A figure appeared from the shadows, his face obscured by a mask made of rough-hewn bone and ash. His posture was confident, but there was a distinct aura of menace that surrounded him.
"Serapha Vale," the figure spoke, his voice muffled but steady. "I thought I might find you here."
Caelum's hand instinctively twitched toward the hilt of his knife, but he stayed still. His instincts screamed that this wasn't someone who meant well.
Serapha's expression was unreadable as she turned to face the newcomer. "The Threadbreakers never rest, do they?"
The masked man chuckled darkly. "We don't have the luxury of rest when there's a threat like him walking around."
Caelum's eyes flicked from Serapha to the man. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head, his mask glinting in the soft light. "I'm someone who knows what you are, Caelum Thorne. Or perhaps I should say… what you could become."
A chill ran down Caelum's spine. "I'm not interested in becoming anything."
"Yet," the man said, his voice low and insistent. "You'll learn that there's no choice. Your magic is the next key. It's only a matter of time before the Arcanum realizes it."
Caelum's fists clenched. "If the Arcanum is after me, why aren't you?"
The man chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "We're not the Arcanum. We don't follow their rules. And we don't believe in keeping secrets."
"I don't want anything to do with you or the Arcanum," Caelum spat.
Serapha's eyes flicked between them, her hand resting on the staff. "I'd advise you to leave, Threadbreaker. Your presence here only makes things more complicated than they already are."
The masked figure's gaze lingered on Caelum, his eyes sharp behind the hollowed bone. "It's not about complications, Serapha. It's about survival. We all know what happens when the Arcanum gets their claws into something they can't control. And you"—his eyes settled on Caelum—"are the Arcanum's next target."
With a final, ominous glance, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows of the trees, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.
After the encounter, Caelum couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing at the edge of a precipice, one wrong step away from falling into a world far darker than he had ever imagined.
He stared at the spot where the man had stood, his thoughts spinning.
"Who were they?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Serapha sighed, her eyes shadowed by something distant. "The Threadbreakers are those who rejected the Arcanum's laws. Some believe in freeing those like you. Others… they only seek to control it."
"Control me?"
Serapha turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "They think you are the key to something much greater than yourself. The Silent Current is a dangerous thing, Caelum. It's a power that could reshape the world. And there are people who would do anything to wield it."
Caelum swallowed hard. The idea of being a tool in someone else's game felt suffocating.
"Then what do I do?" he asked.
Serapha's gaze softened. "For now, you stay quiet. Learn to control your power. And keep your distance from the Threadbreakers. They may say they're allies, but the truth is… they're just another kind of threat."
That night, Caelum lay awake in his tent, staring at the cracked ceiling, thoughts racing.
What had the Threadbreaker meant? The key to something greater? A power that could reshape the world?
And why did it feel like the weight of everything—the Arcanum, the Threadbreakers, his own magic—was slowly tightening around him like a noose?