Chapter 12 – The Edge of Control
The training arena in the east wing of the academy was quiet at dawn—perfect for what Kael needed.
He stood in the middle of the stone platform, sweat already beading down his neck. He'd been up since before sunrise, repeating the same maneuver over and over: Blink to a target, stabilize his footing, cast instantly.
So far, he'd fallen on his face five times.
"Again," he muttered.
He focused on the edge of the platform, locked his gaze there, and triggered Blink.
The world twisted, then snapped.
Kael reappeared three meters away, landed awkwardly, stumbled—but caught himself.
Better.
He raised his hand, gathering mana, and fired a basic flame bolt. It shot forward and fizzled mid-air.
His control was off.
But still… better.
"You're pushing yourself too hard."
Kael turned. Juno stood at the entrance, yawning, holding a half-eaten pastry. He was still in his pajamas.
"I couldn't sleep," Kael said, brushing dust from his sleeve.
"Couldn't sleep or didn't want to?"
Kael didn't answer.
Juno walked over, offered him the rest of the pastry. Kael shook his head.
"Your mana's out of rhythm," Juno said. "You're too tense when you Blink. Relax your core when you teleport—keep your anchor light."
"You sound like an instructor."
"I've been eavesdropping on ours for two months," Juno said proudly. "Comes in handy."
Kael snorted. "Thanks."
"Also, maybe don't collapse from exhaustion before your next class. We've got arcane theory with Master Velk."
Kael groaned. "Right. And he hates me."
"He hates everyone. That's how you know he's fair."
Later that day, Master Velk paced before the class like a wind-up corpse. His beard was stained with ink, and his robes smelled faintly of chalk dust and something burned.
"Today," he droned, "we discuss advanced applications of void channeling. Specifically, why you lot should never attempt it."
Kael's ears perked up.
"Void magic," Velk continued, "is not merely dangerous—it is stupid. It frays your anchor to reality. Use it once, and you are marked. Use it twice, and you start to feel things that are not real. Use it a third time… and reality stops caring about you at all."
Kael's heart thudded.
He remembered Grave Ashar's words: You stepped into the Voidstream and lived. That's no small thing.
"What happens," Kael asked, raising his hand, "if someone uses Void magic… naturally?"
Velk narrowed his eyes.
"Then they either burn out early… or they become something else."
The room went still.
Kael lowered his hand.
That night, Kael sat by the lake behind the academy, the moonlight silver on the water. Lyra found him there.
"Hey," she said, sitting beside him. "You missed dinner."
"Not hungry."
"You always say that when your brain's chewing on something."
Kael gave a faint smile. She wasn't wrong.
They sat in silence for a moment. The lake shimmered. A group of will-o'-wisps floated across the far shore, glowing gently.
"You know," Lyra said, "it's okay to slow down sometimes."
"I can't afford to."
"Why not?"
Kael hesitated. Then, slowly, he said, "Because if I stay still… I'll never catch up."
Lyra looked at him, eyes thoughtful.
"I don't think you're behind," she said. "I think you're just on a different path. And you're running so fast, you can't see how far you've come."
He didn't answer. But her words settled inside him like a quiet warmth.
"I'm not gonna tell you to stop pushing," Lyra said, standing. "But… don't forget to breathe."
She walked back toward the dorms, leaving Kael alone with the stars.
The next morning, something changed.
Kael stood in the training room again—alone, focused.
This time, he didn't try to force the Blink.
He listened to it.
He let the magic ripple under his skin, let the world blur around the edges. Instead of rushing the spell, he let it guide him.
And when he Blinked—he landed perfectly. Stable. Balanced. No recoil.
He grinned.
Then cast a flame bolt.
It soared forward, striking the target clean.
"Finally," he whispered.
His control had sharpened. His movement refined. The gap was closing—bit by bit.
The road ahead was long, but Kael could see it now.
And he was ready.
…He let the magic ripple under his skin, like water coursing through a narrow stream. The pressure of the spell, the tug of space and weight—it was all there. He inhaled slowly, letting his breathing match the rhythm of mana flow.
Then—Blink.
He vanished, reappeared with both feet balanced and eyes forward.
In a single fluid motion, Kael conjured a sharp, spiraling arc of flame and launched it toward the training dummy.
Direct hit.
The construct sizzled and shook. A clean strike.
Kael's chest rose and fell with satisfaction.
That was the first time he had ever executed a Blink-strike chain without a fumble.
Maybe… maybe it was working.
Maybe he was getting there.
Later that week, Kael and Juno were paired for a combat assessment in front of Master Velk and the student observers. They stood across from each other in the outdoor practice field.
"Try not to humiliate me too much," Juno grinned, summoning plates of earthen armor around his chest and arms.
"I won't," Kael said, cracking his knuckles, "if you don't underestimate me."
The whistle blew.
Juno charged forward with the force of a boulder rolling downhill. Kael vanished a split-second before impact, reappearing behind him.
Blink.
Juno spun fast, blocking Kael's flame bolt with an earth shield.
"Nice try!"
"Not done yet."
Kael Blinked again—just a few feet to the left—appearing mid-air this time. He twisted, fired a bolt downward at Juno's unguarded flank.
Boom.
A direct strike.
Juno staggered. "Ow. Okay, that one I felt."
The whistle blew again. Match over.
There was a hush among the watching students.
Kael stood, panting lightly, but smiling.
He'd won.
Master Velk scratched his beard. "Efficient execution. You're adapting."
Kael's eyes lit up.
A compliment. From Velk.
That night, Kael sat on the academy rooftop, legs dangling off the edge.
He stared at the stars again, but this time his thoughts felt different. Focused. Solid.
Lyra found him there, again.
She dropped a bag beside him—roasted bread, cheese, and an apple.
"Dinner," she said.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You're turning into my personal chef."
"Eat before you faint again."
He took a bite. "Thanks."
Lyra sat beside him. Her legs swung slightly over the edge, matching his.
"You were amazing today," she said quietly.
"Juno let his guard down."
"You're allowed to say you're proud of yourself."
Kael looked down, then up again.
"I am. A little."
Lyra smiled, but there was something in her expression—fondness, admiration, something else she wasn't saying.
He didn't notice.
Elsewhere, in a far corner of the Academy…
Princess Selene Ardentis stood in the hallway, hidden in shadow, having watched the match earlier from the balcony.
She hadn't planned to. She'd just been passing by.
That's what she told herself.
She recalled the way Kael moved—not just his magic, but his timing, his calm in motion. There was something different about him.
"Why him?" she muttered, folding her arms.
Why had she noticed him of all people?
He was no noble. No name. No great legacy.
But something about the way he looked at the world—as if nothing could stop him—it stirred something in her.
Annoyance. Curiosity. Maybe something else.
"Tch," she clicked her tongue and turned away. "Stupid commoner."
But her steps slowed as she walked.
And her cheeks were a little warmer than before.