The letter arrived folded in wildflowers.
Karl blinked at the envelope, still warm from the delivery rune. His name was written in light blue ink — uneven strokes, a smudge at the corner.
Rae's handwriting.
He sat on the rooftop garden outside the South Tower, legs dangling over the edge. The sun dipped low, painting the clouds orange and red.
He broke the seal.
"Hi dummy. Are you still alive? Please tell me you're not in a dungeon already or caught summoning dragons like in those weird stories."
"Mom made your favorite soup last week. She messed up the seasoning. We ate it anyway."
"Dad said he's proud of you. That's huge. Write that down somewhere."
"I kept your pendant under my pillow. You better bring back something cooler to trade."
"Come back safe, Karl. Don't forget the way home."
— Rae.
Karl read it twice. Then three more times.
The rooftop was quiet.
Only the wind moved — brushing through his hair, carrying the faint scent of ink, dried herbs… and home.
He smiled softly.
Down below, voices called for dinner.
Students laughed. Plates clattered. Life moved on.
But for a moment, Karl didn't feel like the strange boy marked by fire and shadow.
He felt like a big brother again.
He tucked the letter carefully into his satchel, next to the pendant.
And just as he stood to leave, a spark floated past — a flicker of blue and violet, barely visible.
Not flame. Not mana.
A fragment of something watching.
Far across the academy, in a room lined with sealed tomes, two instructors stood before a file marked with Karl's name.
One whispered:
"He wasn't supposed to awaken this soon."
The other frowned.
"Then we'll accelerate the trials."