The shadows shifted as the stained-glass light faded from vibrant color to pale gold. A stillness settled between Andrew and Kate, broken only by the flutter of pages and the occasional whisper of passing students. For once, Saint Aramond didn't feel like a battleground of expectations. It felt like a pocket of calm in a chaotic world.
Kate leaned back in her chair, her eyes still fixed on Andrew as he continued to skim through the poetry book. She tilted her head, watching the way the light played along the side of his face, softening the edges of someone who had otherwise become so unreadable lately.
"You know," she said slowly, "you weren't always this....mysterious."
He glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Mysterious?"
"Yeah," she smiled, tapping her pen against the desk. "You used to be awkward, shy, always scribbling in the corners during class. Now you just... show up in the middle of a storm, block a girl like you've done it a hundred times, and walk around like you've seen the world burn."
Andrew chuckled, setting the book down. "Well, people change."
"Some more dramatically than others," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
There was a pause, thick and thoughtful.
"Is it a bad change?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Kate blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in the question.
She considered it carefully. "No. Not bad. Just... different. You carry more weight now. Like you know things the rest of us don't."
Andrew looked at the stack of books before him. "Maybe I do."
Kate leaned in a little, teasing. "Anything you want to share with the class?"
He gave a half-smile. "Not just yet."
She nodded, as if accepting a secret not fully shared.
Moments passed, filled with quiet turning of pages. Around them, the hum of the library faded into white noise.
"Do you still write?" she asked.
Andrew looked up again, and this time his smile was softer. "Every day."
Kate brightened. "Can I read something?"
He hesitated. "Not yet. But soon."
"You're always saying that," she said, but there was no real disappointment in her voice.
They fell into a comfortable silence. The kind that didn't demand conversation to feel whole. Kate eventually pulled out her own book, and they sat across from each other like two old friends rediscovering a language they once shared.
Outside the window, the sky deepened to a richer shade of blue. The afternoon sun was slipping.
As they sat there, the library slowly emptied. Lisa and Jason were nowhere in sight. The drama of the hallway felt like a distant ripple, long gone.
Kate closed her book and stood. "I should go. Dinner soon. Emma's probably waiting."
Andrew stood as well. "I'll walk you."
They moved together down the aisles, the echo of their steps soft on the wood.
"You know," Kate said as they reached the library doors, "I think I'm finally starting to like this version of you."
Andrew stopped, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"But," she added, stepping into the hallway, "if you ever get too full of yourself, I will drag you back to Earth."
He laughed. "Duly noted."
Kate grinned. "Goodnight, Andrew."
"Goodnight, Kate."
She walked off down the corridor, her figure shrinking into the golden light.
Andrew turned, his hands in his pockets, and stared at the stained glass one last time.
For the first time in weeks, the voice inside him was silent.
And he liked it that way.
Back at Halberd University, the mood was shifting. The air held a different charge, like the calm before a storm, and the morning mist that usually blanketed the courtyards now clung to the stone walkways with an uneasy weight. Whispers moved through the halls faster than gossip ever could, curling beneath doors and around lecture benches. Something was happening.
Inside the administrative tower, the lights burned longer than usual. The wood-paneled walls of the strategy chamber flickered with the soft glow of candles, mixed with the quiet hum of arcane instruments spread across the round table in the center. Papers were scattered, ancient texts propped open with stones inscribed with runes. There were maps of the surrounding lands, the school grounds, and more curiously maps of places that didn't appear on any known geography.
Dean Halvorsen stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the dark horizon beyond the ivy-covered walls of Halberd. The sky had looked strange lately not broken, not stormy, but watching. Like something beyond the clouds was leaning closer each day.
Behind him, Professor Albrecht poured over a parchment, sweat beading on his brow despite the cold draft seeping in through the cracks in the stone. "We've confirmed the anomalies in three of the marked zones," he said quietly. "The leyline disruptions are growing."
"And the faculty?" Dean Halvorsen asked without turning.
"Worried. Some of the older professors remember the signs. The Headmistress from Morven Academy has already sealed her wards. She suspects we may be facing something... pre-cataclysmic."
The Dean turned slowly. His face was pale, lips tight. "Then we don't have a choice anymore. Initiate contact. Bring together the heads of the Hidden Families. Activate the old channels."
Albrecht looked up from his notes. "And the gifted?"
"Begin selection immediately. We'll need six. No more, no less."
Within days, messengers cloaked in midnight blue moved silently across nations, their arrival marked not by trumpets or banners, but by soft knocks at old doors, and the quiet exchange of sigils pressed into palms. From ancient libraries buried beneath desert sands to marble-tiled estates overlooking sea cliffs, six names were whispered into the wind.
Among them, Andrew Whitmore.
In the west wing of Halberd, an unused chamber was being brought back to life. This was no ordinary classroom or meeting hall. The Circle Room, once used during the foundational age of Halberd when bloodlines still mingled with spirits, was cleaned and restored. Crystal lanterns floated overhead, casting refracted rainbows against the silver-veined floor. A raised dais at the center, inscribed with the sigils of six elements, now pulsed faintly.
Professor Albrecht stood at the edge of the room with a heavy ledger in hand. Names inked in gold shimmered in the flickering light. Some names were crossed out. Others had question marks beside them. But six were clear.
"It feels like pulling threads from fate itself," said Head Enchanter Valtan as he stepped in beside Albrecht.
"These six are our best hope," Albrecht replied.
"Or our last," Valtan said quietly.
The six selected.
Andrew Whitmore, of the silent awakening and the shadowed bloodline.
Lilienne Dumas, the Mindreader of the Hollow Peak.
Ryo Takemura, the Elemental Prodigy from the Shifting Coast.
Lisa Cindrel, the Mirrorwalker of the Spiral Library.
Jason Mercier, the Bladeborn who speaks to steel.
Seraphina Kade, the Oracle whose visions come at cost.
Back in his dorm, Professor Albrecht sat at his desk that evening, candlelight dancing across his weary features. He dipped a quill into ink, then wrote carefully
To: Andrew Whitmore
You are hereby summoned back to Halberd by order of the High Council. Your presence is required for a matter of utmost urgency. Pack light. Speak to no one. Come prepared.
Albrecht
---
Far away, in the warmth of a different town, Andrew sat by a window with a cup of tea, the silence of the night wrapping around him like a familiar cloak. He felt it before he saw it a tingling behind his eyes, a shift in his spine.
The letter arrived without knock or messenger. It simply sat on the table when he turned back from the kettle.
He stared at it, knowing.
Picking it up, he read the words slowly, and Whitmore stirred.
"Well," came the voice in his mind, tinged with amusement, "looks like the real game begins."
Andrew set the cup down, eyes narrowing on the window where the stars now seemed just a little too bright.
"Then let's begin."
He stood, already thinking about what he would need to bring.
Because this time, it wasn't just about Halberd. Or about secrets. Or even power.
This was about fate.
And fate had just called his name.