Chapter 13 – Whispers of the Whirl
The wind shifted above Aether Academy's main tower.
At its highest spire—past the elemental lecture halls, dueling platforms, and student dormitories—stood a sealed chamber few had ever entered. An observatory, shaped like a hollowed star, layered with elemental runes, clockwork constructs, and Tower-grade security enchantments.
And in its center stood Mavren Duskfall.
Champion-stage. Twin Affinity: Light and Lightning. Principal of Aether Academy.
He faced the open crystal-pane window, light catching the silver-white streaks in his dark hair. His long cloak rippled behind him despite the still air—responding not to weather, but to the current of mana that constantly flowed through his body.
He didn't speak yet. Just stood, breathing in the high-altitude stillness, gaze scanning the horizon beyond the barrier dome that encased the academy.
Behind him, the staff waited.
Instructor Vessra of Class A. Instructor Benjamin of class B. Instructor Harn of Class C. Administrator Selric. And a robed envoy who had arrived only minutes before.
"I should still be in Sevethal," Mavren said at last, voice calm but edged like a blade sheathed in silk. "Yet here I am."
The m envoy stepped forward. "The situation changed."
"So I gathered." Mavren turned. The light in his eyes wasn't glow—it was pressure, burning from a higher cultivation that none in the room could match. "You pulled a Champion away from sealing an arc-breach in Kreloth to search for a child. That alone better be worth explanation."
The envoy produced a sealed crystal scroll and handed it to Vessra, who broke the binding and read aloud.
"—'Wind resonance detected at Driftmoor Isle. Affinity fluctuation beyond 90%. Awakening presumed at civilian tier. Trace indicates elemental instability and potential lightning interference. Subject not registered under Noble lineage. Recommend high-priority containment and observation. Authorization: Black Mark – Tower Directive.'"
Silence fell.
Instructor Harn's brow twitched. "Ninety percent wind? That's—"
"Not supposed to exist," Vessra finished. "Not without divine ancestry. Even House Veylan's strongest scion only hit seventy-two."
"And the mention of lightning interference," Mavren muttered. "Dangerous combination. No beast core stabilizer? No noble tag?"
"None," said the envoy. "The subject slipped through registry. Worse—records of the flare were delayed by local interference. The Tower didn't receive confirmation until weeks after the incident."
Mavren turned back to the window. "Driftmoor Isle…"
Instructor Harn hesitated. "Sir, if I may—"
Mavren held up a hand. "You may. Speak."
"There is… a student in my class. His breathing patterns diverge. He shows signs of duality. Water affinity, confirmed. But there's an undercurrent I haven't identified. And he's too stable for a mere Initiate. Too restrained."
"Name?" Mavren asked.
Harn's mouth tightened. "Kael, no surname."
Vessra eyebrows curl.
" she asked, from where?"
"His name came from the Driftmoor registrar," Harn said. "He arrived with minimal records. But he's calm. Skilled. Dangerous, if he chooses to be."
Mavren's gaze narrowed. "What of his affinity readings?"
"Water, clean. No sign of wind… but that doesn't mean much. He's hiding something. I'd wager a year's core essence on it."
The envoy raised an eyebrow. "If he's the one… he's unbranded. That would mean the flare we detected was his Awakening."
"It fits," Mavren said. "The Tower wouldn't have pulled me unless they were certain."
Vessra stepped forward. "There's another thing… a name that came up in Tower archives recently. Connected to high-wind anomalies. From the Severance Years."
Mavren turned slowly. "Say it."
Vessra's voice lowered to a whisper. "The Whirls."
Even the envoy flinched.
Harn frowned. "The… what?"
"An experimental battalion," Mavren answered. "Formed during the War of Sundering. Composed entirely of high-affinity wind users from caelum family. No bloodlines. No loyalty to nobles. Just power—raw and unregulated."
"They were too unstable," Vessra added. "Faster than light scouts. Whirlstrike assassins. They could move between raindrops. But none survived the final purge."
"Or so we believed," Mavren said darkly.
The envoy looked unsettled. "We assumed they'd all been erased. Every trace of their techniques was purged by the Tower. Even the name became taboo."
"If Kael has even a sliver of their heritage…" Vessra didn't finish.
Mavren closed his eyes.
The silence that followed was not empty—it was loaded with old war stories, failed experiments, and echoes of lightning breaking the sky over nameless battlefields.
"I want him watched," Mavren said at last. "No interference. No alert. Let him think he's hidden."
"Why not confront him directly?" Harn asked.
"Because," Mavren said, "if he is what the Tower suspects, the moment we corner him… he'll bolt. Or worse."
"Worse?" Vessra asked.
Mavren turned to the window again. "If he's a Whirl-blood, if the wind in him wakes before he's ready… then the real danger isn't the Tower losing him."
He placed a hand against the pane.
"It's the world trying to stop him.
After the staff had dispersed and the sound of their footsteps faded beyond the polished stone corridor, Mavren Duskfall remained seated.
The war-table dimmed, its projections vanishing like dust on wind, but his mind drifted elsewhere—beyond the Academy, beyond duty.
To a storm-wracked coast long gone.
To a man who once stood with the sea at his back and fire in his heart.
Caelum.
Not the name of a fallen house, but of a friend. A brother-in-arms. A storm-touched madman who'd once laughed in the face of a Tower judge and lived.
He remembered the man's last words before disappearing from the world.
"If I fall—no, when I fall—watch the boy. If they find him first, they'll twist him. Break him like they did me."
"But if he lives free… the whirls might rise again. Promise me that, Mavren."
And Mavren had sworn it. Not as a favor. As a debt.
"I'll watch over him from the shadows. Until he's ready to choose his path."
Now, here he was—Kael Caelum, hiding in plain sight beneath a false name. The Tower hadn't seen it yet. But they were close.
And the boy?
A wind-user, all Caelum always awaken wind. But more than that. He had the same quiet defiance in his eyes. The same restraint—the same dangerous restraint.
Mavren closed his eyes briefly, the light from the chamber's crystal dome brushing across his silver-streaked hair.
"You were right, old friend," he murmured. "The whirls will rise again. And this time… I won't be late."
Flashback ends
"I lost track of him because of that stupid mission, but it seems he made his way back to the mainland"