Great, I'll continue the story from Chapter 21 through Chapter 26 with full narrative prose, incorporating the introspective tone, some action, and the new subplot where Kelan prevents a robbery in the city. I'll let you know when these chapters are ready for your review.
The Mind's Awakening – Chapters 21–26 Chapter 21
Kelan awoke with a weight on his chest that had nothing to do with the morning chill. For days, guilt had pressed down on him like a slab of stone. He knew what he had to do—today, he would tell the truth.
He dressed in silence, fingers fumbling with the ties of his tunic. Across the narrow dormitory room, Sera was already awake on her cot, braiding her dark hair. Her green eyes stayed on him, full of concern. She was the only one he'd confided in about the astrolabe.
Without a word, Sera wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. They tiptoed past their sleeping roommates and slipped into the corridor. As they descended the spiral stairs toward the cloister garden, Kelan felt Sera's gentle touch on his forearm, steadying him.
They emerged into the gray dawn. Frost silvered the herbs in the planters, and Kelan's breath misted in the cold air. He drew a shaky breath. "I'm going to tell Master Dahan first thing. Before classes," he said quietly.
Sera nodded, expression gentle but firm. "You're doing the right thing." She had told him the same last night, when he finally admitted his secret. He would never forget her face then—no judgment, only compassion.
"What if... what if he expels me?" Kelan's voice was barely above a whisper. The fear had kept him awake most of the night. Damaging the astrolabe—a priceless artifact in the Academy archives—was no small offense.
Sera met his eyes. "Master Dahan is strict but fair. He values honesty. If you explain how it happened..." She managed a small encouraging smile. "I'll stand with you, no matter what."
Kelan felt a swell of gratitude for her loyalty. Sera's presence was a comfort he didn't deserve. The memory of the astrolabe's fall stabbed at him again, but he steeled himself. This was the only way forward.
They entered the east wing where Master Dahan's study adjoined the library. Usually Kelan loved this corridor in the morning—the smell of old books, the sunlight catching motes of dust—but now each step was leaden. He stopped before the heavy oak door, which was slightly ajar. Through the gap, he glimpsed Master Dahan bent over his desk, quill in hand.
Kelan swallowed hard and knocked.
"Enter," came Master Dahan's baritone from within.
Kelan pushed the door open, Sera close behind. The Master looked up, surprised to see students at this hour. "Kelan, Sera. What brings you here so early?"
Kelan's heart pounded. He stepped forward and dropped to one knee on the polished floor. Bowing his head, he blurted, "Master Dahan, I must confess—I'm responsible for the astrolabe's damage."
Silence filled the study, broken only by the faint tick of a wall clock. Kelan stared at the floorboards, his face burning. Sera stood just behind him, a steady presence at his back.
"I see," Master Dahan said at last, his voice neutral. "Stand up, Kelan."
Kelan stood, though his legs trembled. "It was an accident, Master," he said softly. "I was practicing a levitation technique in the archives after hours... I lost control. The force knocked over the astrolabe. I panicked and ran. I should have reported it, but I was afraid."
Master Dahan's brows drew together. "You should have come to me at once," he said sternly. "Instead, we spent days determining the cause, even closing the archives. Your fear only made matters worse."
Kelan flinched at the rebuke. "Yes, Master. I was wrong. I accept whatever punishment you decide."
The older mage regarded Kelan for a long moment, then sighed. "I will not expel you."
Kelan's eyes stung with unexpected relief.
"But your actions have consequences," Master Dahan continued. "The astrolabe is a centuries-old instrument, not easily repaired. You disrupted important work and damaged knowledge entrusted to us. So from today onward, after classes you will report to Archivist Linnaeus. You will work under his direction to repair the astrolabe and restore the archives, until everything is as it was. Perhaps that will teach you the lesson you need."
Kelan bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, Master. I won't waste this chance. I'll do everything I can to set things right."
Master Dahan nodded. "See that you do. Power without control can cause great destruction—and great regret. Remember that."
"I will, Master," Kelan vowed.
With a curt gesture, Master Dahan dismissed them. Kelan and Sera stepped back into the hallway, gently closing the door behind them. Kelan let out a long, unsteady breath, as though a tight band around his chest had finally released.
"It's done," he whispered.
Sera's face lit with a relieved smile. "And you're still here."
Kelan managed a shaky grin. "Thanks to you. I couldn't have done it alone."
She squeezed his arm. "You could have, but I'm glad you didn't have to." Looping her arm through his, she guided him down the hall. "Come on. Let's get some breakfast. You have a long day ahead."
By the time classes ended that afternoon, news of Kelan's confession had spread through the Academy. A few curious glances followed him as he headed to the archives, but he kept his chin up. Now was the time to prove himself through action.
The archive hall was roped off with a sign reading "Closed for Repairs." Kelan slipped under it and found Archivist Linnaeus amid a clutter of books, scrolls, and metal pieces. The wiry archivist peered at him over his spectacles. "Ah, the culprit," Linnaeus said, not unkindly.
Kelan flushed. "I'm here to help fix what I broke, sir."
"At least you came forward," Linnaeus grunted. He gestured to the parts of the astrolabe laid out on a long table. Its great brass rings were bent, and shattered glass lenses and delicate gears filled several trays. The sight renewed Kelan's guilt. "It won't mend itself. Let's begin."
He set Kelan to work immediately. For the next few hours, Kelan crawled on the floor gathering every shard of colored glass, scrubbed spilled ink and dust from shelves, and carefully returned books and scrolls to their rightful places. It was tedious, back-aching labor—nothing like the spell exercises in class—but he threw himself into each task as earnest penance.
As afternoon light slanted through the windows, Kelan settled into a steady rhythm. There was simple solace in restoring order. With every fragment collected and every book shelved, a bit of his burden lifted.
While he was perched atop a ladder returning a heavy tome, a familiar voice called from below, "Need a hand?"
Kelan looked down to see Sera at the doorway, her hair tied back and sleeves rolled. She must have come straight after her own classes. "You don't have to help with this," he said, climbing down.
"I want to," she said. "Two pairs of hands are better than one."
At Sera's request, Linnaeus nodded approval. Soon she was beside Kelan, carefully re-rolling scattered scrolls and tying them with fresh ribbons.
They worked in companionable silence for a time, broken only by the rustle of paper and Linnaeus's quiet muttering over a torn star chart. As they organized a pile of celestial maps, Sera spoke softly.
"How are you holding up?"
Kelan flexed his sore fingers. "Tired," he admitted, "but it feels good to be doing something about it. Making amends."
She nodded. "I thought it might. Last year, when I accidentally set the herb greenhouse on fire, I felt awful. Helping rebuild it turned out to be the only cure for my guilt."
Kelan glanced at her. He'd heard about that mishap, though Sera rarely mentioned it. "I didn't realize you helped rebuild it yourself."
"Every afternoon for a month," she said wryly. "I learned more about carpentry than I ever expected—along with a lesson in responsibility."
He gave her a rueful smile. "Seems we both have a knack for trouble."
"At least we fix our mistakes," Sera replied, bumping him lightly with her elbow.
When the supper bell finally rang, Kelan and Sera were dusty, tired, and hungry. But much of the archives was back in order. The astrolabe's main frame had been reassembled in its pedestal, albeit without its delicate innards. Dozens of books and scrolls were returned to their shelves.
Archivist Linnaeus inspected the work and gave a satisfied nod. "Enough for today. Back at it tomorrow."
Stepping out into the cool dusk, Kelan drew a deep breath. Stars were beginning to glimmer in the eastern sky as they walked back toward the dining hall side by side.
"You did well today," Sera said quietly, her shoulder brushing his.
Kelan felt warmth bloom in his chest. "I couldn't have done it without you."
She tilted her head at him. "You could have. But I'm glad I was there to help."
They pushed open the dining hall door, and the warm glow of lamplight and the aroma of spiced stew washed over them. Kelan's stomach growled, prompting a soft laugh from both of them as they slipped inside.
As they settled at the table with bowls of stew and fresh bread, Kelan reflected on how different he felt from just a day ago. The weight of secrecy was gone. He had faced his mistake and survived the consequences, and now he was doing his best to set things right. And he wasn't facing it alone.
Though much work remained to fully restore the astrolabe, Kelan allowed himself a small hopeful smile. A cracked thing could be repaired with time and effort. Trust could be rebuilt. And in the process of mending the damage, something within himself had been reforged, stronger than before.
Chapter 22
Over the following days, Kelan settled into a steady routine: classes each morning, labor in the archives each afternoon, then collapsing into bed at night. By the third day, the astrolabe's frame was gradually returning to shape and the library was nearly back in order.
That late afternoon, while reshelving a row of astronomy scrolls, Kelan noticed a slim leather scroll case wedged behind a heavy tome. Gently prying it loose, he found it sealed with brittle, cracked wax. His heart quickened as he opened the case and drew out an age-stained parchment filled with spidery script.
He held it up to a lantern's light and slowly deciphered the archaic words. Fragments of a prophecy emerged from the faded lines:
"...in a time of darkest need, a Mind's Awakening shall begin, and the Unseen Hand shall rise once more...
...one born with the gift to move the unmovable...
...by this power, a choice between salvation and ruin shall be made."
Kelan's hands trembled. Mind's Awakening? Unseen Hand? A gift to move the unmovable—surely that meant telekinesis. The scroll prophesied the return of an ancient telekinetic order and a powerful telekinetic who would either save or destroy.
He carefully rolled the fragile parchment back into its case. Should he bring it straight to Master Dahan? It was clearly an important document, misplaced or forgotten in the archives. Yet Kelan hesitated. The prophecy felt unsettlingly relevant. He wanted to understand it fully himself first.
Footsteps echoed at the far end of the archive hall. Quickly, Kelan tucked the scroll case into the deep pocket of his apron just as Archivist Linnaeus appeared.
"That's enough for today," Linnaeus said with a tired wave.
"Yes, sir." Kelan nodded, trying to keep his composure. He left the archives with the secret scroll hidden at his side. Dusk was falling, and lanterns flickered to life along the Academy walkways. Normally he would head straight to dinner, but now urgent curiosity and dread urged him to find Sera first.
Spotting Sera crossing the courtyard from the alchemy wing, Kelan intercepted her under a stone archway. One look at his face and Sera's smile vanished, replaced by concern.
"Kelan? What happened?"
"I found something in the archives," he said quietly. He pulled out the scroll case and held it between them. "A prophecy. At least I think it is."
Her eyes widened. "A prophecy about what?"
He glanced around to ensure they were alone. "Telekinesis," he whispered. "It mentions an ancient order called the Unseen Hand and something about a 'mind's awakening.' It talks about someone with a great telekinetic gift who will have to choose between saving the world or destroying it."
Sera's mouth fell open in astonishment. "That sounds... incredible. And terrifying. Have you told Master Dahan?"
"Not yet. I just found it. I wanted to translate it fully first." He took a breath. "Sera, what if it's talking about now? What if it's talking about… someone here?"
She reached out and gripped his forearm reassuringly. "We can't be sure yet. It might be something that already happened long ago, or a warning for the future. Let's not jump to conclusions." Her tone was steady, but her eyes searched his. She knew exactly why he was shaken—part of him wondered if he was the telekinetic in the prophecy.
Kelan managed a shaky nod. "You're right. Will you help me go through it later? My Old Tongue is rusty."
"Of course," she agreed immediately. "After dinner, we'll find a quiet place and look at it together."
Relieved that Sera was by his side in this, Kelan felt a little of the tension ease from his shoulders. They turned toward the dining hall. But before they got more than a few steps, the deep clang of the tower bell shattered the evening calm—three urgent peals.
Students and instructors all across the grounds stopped in their tracks. That signal meant an emergency gathering. Exchanging a worried glance, Kelan and Sera hurried with the trickle of people toward the main courtyard.
Within minutes, the entire Academy community was assembled under the cold, clear sky. Atop the steps by the central fountain stood Headmistress Celindra, Master Dahan, and several other faculty members. Torchlight flickered over their grave faces.
Headmistress Celindra raised her voice to address the crowd. "We have received dire news. The village of Branwick, a day's ride to the south, was completely destroyed this afternoon."
A stunned murmur rippled through the students. Kelan felt his stomach drop.
"Witnesses say it happened in an instant," the headmistress went on, her voice tight. "An invisible force swept through, flattening homes and felling trees as if a giant, unseen hand had crushed them. There was no warning and almost no survivors."
Shock and fear swelled in the courtyard. Someone behind Kelan gave a frightened cry. Sera's hand found his and squeezed hard.
Master Dahan stepped forward and spoke loudly, quelling the chatter. "The descriptions leave little doubt that magic was involved—specifically, a massive telekinetic force." His gaze swept over the gathered apprentices. "The Imperial authorities have asked for our aid. We have dispatched several mages to help investigate. In the meantime, all students must remain on Academy grounds. Protective wards are being reinforced tonight. If any of you know or see anything unusual, report it at once."
Headmistress Celindra added, "We will keep you informed as we learn more. For now, return to your dormitories. Stay calm and take care of one another."
The assembly was dismissed, but students lingered in clusters, whispering nervously as the faculty ushered everyone inside. Kelan and Sera hung back, standing off to one side under the shadow of a cloister.
"A giant invisible hand..." Kelan whispered, heart hammering. It was the very image described in the prophecy. "Telekinesis."
Sera looked pale in the torchlight. "Who could do such a thing? No one at the Academy could even come close. Not even Master Dahan."
Kelan's mind raced. The prophecy had spoken of a choice between ruin and salvation. If someone had just caused ruin at Branwick... "It can't be a coincidence," he said quietly. "The prophecy… it's like it's coming true right now."
Sera glanced around to ensure no eavesdroppers, then murmured, "If that prophecy is real, it sounds like it's warning about a powerful telekinetic emerging. Maybe two."
Kelan nodded, recalling the phrasing. One to break, one to bind. Or perhaps one person who must choose a path. Either way, tonight's news made the old words feel urgently alive. "We need to finish translating it. Now more than ever."
"Agreed," Sera said. "Let's go, before we get herded to our dorms."
Keeping to the dimly lit paths, they slipped away from the dispersing crowd. Rather than going to the library—which might be watched—they found an empty classroom in a side wing. Kelan shut the door behind them while Sera lit a single lantern on a desk, casting long shadows across the chalkboard and rows of benches.
Side by side, they unrolled the parchment on the desk and bent over it. For the next hour, they painstakingly deciphered the prophecy's ornate script. In hushed whispers, they pieced together its meaning. What they found sent chills through both of them:
The prophecy spoke of a time of chaos marked by unimaginable telekinetic destruction—a "scourge of invisible wrath" and an ancient telekinetic power rising again. At its heart was an "awakened mind" who would face two possible destinies: "one to shatter, one to shield." It suggested one with this power could either unleash ruin or protect against it, depending on their choices.
Kelan leaned back, running a hand through his hair. The meaning was unmistakable: someone with great telekinetic power could either bring ruin or protect the world from it, depending on their choices. Branwick's destruction was clearly the shattering path made real. Which meant… "Someone will have to take the other path," he murmured.
Sera looked at him, her expression solemn. "It sounds like it's talking about one person who could go either way. If the 'shatter' path has begun, then whoever this awakened mind is, they'll need to choose the 'shield' path now." She swallowed. "Kelan, it might be you. It fits too well."
He had expected her to say it, yet hearing it still made his stomach flip. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opened them, Sera's face was full of concern and quiet faith.
"If it is me," Kelan said slowly, "then I have to stop whoever destroyed Branwick. I have to make sure I'm the one who shields, not shatters."
Sera squeezed his shoulder, a steady comfort. "I know you. You'd never choose to cause destruction. If this is your destiny, then it's one you'll meet with the goodness and restraint I've seen in you already."
Kelan managed a faint, grateful smile. He wasn't sure he shared her confidence in himself, but her support bolstered him. "We should tell Master Dahan," he said. "This prophecy, all of it. They need to know what we found, especially now."
Sera nodded. "In the morning. Things are chaotic tonight, but we can ask for a private meeting with him tomorrow."
Carefully, Kelan rolled the parchment and replaced it in its case. They extinguished the lantern and peeked into the corridor. The halls were dark and empty now, silent save for the distant steps of a patrolling tutor making rounds.
Quiet as shadows, they slipped out and made their way back toward the dormitories. At the entrance to the women's wing, Sera paused. "Try to get some sleep," she whispered. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
He managed a faint smile. "You too. And Sera—thank you. For helping me with this. I don't know what I'd do if... if I had to deal with it alone."
"You're not alone," she assured, giving his hand one last squeeze. "We'll figure it out together. Good night, Kelan."
"Good night." He watched her disappear behind the heavy oak door, then quietly headed to his own dorm.
In the darkness of his bunk room, Kelan lay awake for a long while. Across the room, one of his roommates snored softly; another murmured in his sleep. Kelan stared up at the ceiling, the prophecy's words and the Headmistress's announcement from earlier echoing in his mind. In one hand, he still clutched the leather scroll case under the blanket, unwilling to part from the ancient words that had suddenly entwined with his own life.
A village was in ruins because of telekinetic power—power like his, only far greater and turned to evil purpose. That thought alone was terrifying. But the prophecy suggested that such power could also be used to save, and hinted that someone—the awakened mind—would have to make that choice. If he was that someone, could he rise to meet such a fate?
Kelan closed his eyes and took a slow breath. He felt fear, yes, but also a resolve forming. All his life, his telekinetic talent had set him apart in small ways; now it might set the course of something much larger. Whatever lay ahead—be it training, tests, or confronting a dangerous foe—he knew he couldn't shrink from it. Sera was right: if his gift could shield others from harm, he had to learn to wield it fully and wisely.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. As he drifted into uneasy sleep, one thought lingered: somewhere out there, a telekinetic force had unleashed devastation, but here he was, armed with the same kind of power and the knowledge of the prophecy. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could help tip the balance toward salvation instead of ruin.
Chapter 23
Morning light spilled across the Academy courtyard as Kelan and Sera hurried toward Master Dahan's office. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on them, and Kelan carried the leather scroll case tucked under his arm. They had agreed to present the prophecy to Master Dahan first thing, before the day's chaos fully unfolded.
But as they reached the corridor leading to the study, they found it abuzz with unusual activity. Apprentices whispered in excited tones. Kelan caught a name on everyone's lips: Master Arion.
Master Arion was a living legend—a telekinetic sage rarely seen at the Academy. If he was here, it must be in response to the disaster at Branwick.
Up ahead, in the entryway of the administrative hall, Master Dahan stood with Headmistress Celindra and another man—tall and lean, with iron-gray hair pulled back in a simple clasp. The man wore a plain deep blue robe without any ostentatious trim, but there was an unmistakable aura of strength about him. Even from afar, Kelan sensed an unseen energy about him.
"That must be Arion," Sera whispered, awe in her voice.
Master Arion listened intently to Headmistress Celindra, then nodded and turned his gaze over the small gathering of students in the hall. Kelan had the unsettling impression that the sage's eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat, though it might have been his imagination.
Master Dahan noticed Kelan and Sera then, and raised a hand in greeting. "Kelan, Sera, good timing. We were just about to send word for the students specializing in telekinetics to assemble in the south courtyard for a demonstration. Master Arion has graciously offered to share his expertise with you all this morning."
Kelan opened his mouth, unsure whether to blurt out his own urgent news or simply acknowledge the instruction. The scroll case felt heavy against his side. He decided to hold his tongue for now—bursting out about the prophecy in front of so many others didn't seem wise.
"We'll be there, Master," Sera replied respectfully, giving Kelan a subtle nudge.
Master Dahan offered a brief smile, but there was curiosity in his eyes as they flicked to the scroll case Kelan carried. "After the demonstration, I'd like a word with you two. I understand you have something to discuss with me."
"Yes, sir—thank you," Kelan managed to say.
With that, Master Dahan turned back to Arion and the Headmistress. Kelan and Sera stepped away, and the gathered students began filing toward the south courtyard, buzzing with excitement.
Kelan felt his pulse racing. "He knows we want to talk," he murmured to Sera. "We'll tell him and Master Arion everything soon."
Sera nodded, squeezing his hand briefly. "First, let's see what a telekinetic legend can do."
They joined the crowd heading to the south courtyard, which served as an open training ground. Word had spread quickly; practically the entire Academy turned out, eager to witness Master Arion in action. The faculty formed a loose circle in the center of the yard, and within that circle stood Arion himself, calm and composed.
Several heavy objects had been arranged nearby—an old anvil, a stack of stone blocks, a rack of practice spears, and a full barrel of water. The assortment alone hinted at the display to come.
Once the students settled around the edges of the yard, Headmistress Celindra stepped forward. "As many of you have heard, Master Arion has come to assist us in understanding the recent… event." Her carefully measured words avoided inciting more fear. "He has also agreed to demonstrate for our students the disciplined use of telekinetic magic. Pay close attention—there is much to learn."
With that, she yielded the stage to the sage. Master Arion surveyed the ring of faces, and when he spoke, his voice was clear and warm. "Good morning. In light of troubling times, it's more important than ever that we understand our abilities—both their potential and their limits."
He lifted a hand, and with a mere gesture raised a heavy iron anvil off the ground. A collective gasp echoed as he sent it gliding effortlessly through the air as though it weighed nothing. He even deformed the solid metal slightly before setting it down with a thud. Murmurs—impressed and uneasy—rippled through the onlookers.
Arion must have sensed their unease. He raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Destruction is the easiest application of power," he said, voice gentle. "But telekinesis is capable of far more than brute force."
He turned toward the barrel of water and, with a focused gaze, lifted a twisting column of water out of it. The water spiraled into dozens of glistening droplets that hovered above the courtyard like floating pearls. With a careful motion, he gathered them and lowered the water back into the barrel without spilling a drop. Students broke into applause at the graceful display.
"Power is not just about force," Arion said, his tone carrying to every ear. "It's also about control and intention."
He then invited a student volunteer to attempt levitating one of the stone blocks. After a moment scanning the crowd, Master Arion pointed straight at Kelan. "You there. Would you give it a try?" he asked.
Startled, Kelan stepped forward into the circle. He noticed Cassian, who had eagerly raised his hand, shooting him a resentful look.
Kelan focused on one of the heaviest stone blocks. Taking a deep breath, he reached out with his mind, mimicking the calm control he'd seen from Arion. At first the stone barely quivered, but then it lifted shakily a few inches off the ground. Kelan steadied himself and managed to keep the block hovering at knee-height for a moment before easing it back down.
Applause and cheers erupted. Kelan's cheeks flushed with relief and pride. Master Arion rested a hand on his shoulder and murmured, "Well done. You have quite a gift." The praise made Kelan's heart soar.
As he stepped back, Kelan caught sight of Cassian in the crowd—his rival's face was taut with envy.
The demonstration continued with a couple more volunteers. Cassian was allowed a turn and managed to lift a smaller block, though not nearly as steadily as Kelan had—a fact that did not escape the watching students (or Cassian's bruised ego).
When Master Arion concluded the exhibition, the courtyard rang with hearty applause. Headmistress Celindra thanked him graciously and dismissed the assembly.
Most of the students dispersed in excited chatter, but Kelan's day was far from over. Master Dahan caught up with Kelan and Sera near the cloister walkway. With him, to Kelan's surprise, was Master Arion.
"Kelan, Sera," Master Dahan said in a low voice, "walk with us." It was phrased as a suggestion, but the tone was clearly an instruction. Kelan's stomach fluttered with nerves.
They followed the two masters away from the lingering crowds, eventually stopping under the shade of an oak at a quiet corner of the grounds. Arion turned, hands folded calmly in front of him. Master Dahan's gaze fell to the scroll case Kelan still held.
"I suspect you have something significant to show me," Master Dahan began. "And perhaps it's best that Master Arion hears it as well, given the circumstances."
Kelan exchanged a look with Sera, who nodded encouragingly. He stepped forward and carefully presented the leather case to Master Dahan. "Sir, while I was working in the archives, I found this hidden behind some books. It's a prophecy… about telekinetics. We translated most of it last night."
Master Dahan's brow furrowed deeply as he unsealed the case and drew out the parchment. Arion tilted his head with keen interest. "May I?" the sage asked softly. Master Dahan handed him the parchment.
As Arion's eyes swept over the spidery script, his expression remained outwardly composed, but Kelan noticed a tightening around his mouth, an intensity in those blue eyes.
Finally, Arion spoke, voice almost a whisper. "I have heard fragments of this prophecy before. But I had not seen the full text in many years."
Master Dahan looked between Arion and the two students, clearly trying to grasp the implications. Kelan swallowed and summarized what they had learned: the prophecy spoke of an ancient Order of the Unseen Hand and a "mind awakened" with a gift that could shatter or shield. It eerily matched the telekinetic destruction at Branwick.
By the time he finished, Master Dahan's face had gone a shade paler. "This is… a great deal to take in," he murmured.
Arion rolled up the parchment with deep respect and handed it back to Kelan. "You were wise to bring this forward," he said. "And wise to translate it. Few your age could manage the Old Tongue."
Sera dipped her head modestly at the acknowledgment.
Arion then regarded Kelan with a solemn kindness. "Young Kelan, last night when I heard what befell Branwick, I thought of this prophecy. I suspected the time it spoke of had come. And meeting you this morning..." He smiled faintly. "It only confirmed my suspicions."
Kelan felt his cheeks warm. "So… you believe it's referring to me, Master?"
Master Dahan looked sharply at Arion, startled by the idea. Arion nodded slowly. "I believe you have within you the capacity for the gift this prophecy speaks of. Whether you are indeed the one destined to fulfill it is something time will reveal—prophecies often manifest in unexpected ways. But it's clear to me you will play a crucial part in what is to come."
Kelan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was both validating and frightening to have Master Arion confirm what he and Sera had feared.
Master Dahan cleared his throat, trying to maintain his pragmatic composure. "If that's true, we must prepare Kelan, and find whoever caused Branwick's destruction."
Master Arion placed a reassuring hand on Kelan's shoulder. "I will remain here for a time. I can provide Kelan with additional training to hone his control. With discipline, he can be ready for whatever comes."
Relief and gratitude flooded Kelan. "Thank you, Master Arion. I'll do my best."
Arion nodded. "I know you will. For now, let's keep knowledge of this prophecy to ourselves to avoid panic. Focus on your training."
Master Dahan agreed, adding a few encouraging words to Sera and Kelan. Sera promised to support Kelan however she could.
As the two masters departed, Sera turned to Kelan. Her eyes shone with both worry and hope. "That was... a lot. Are you alright?"
Kelan managed a small smile. "It's overwhelming, but I'll manage. Having Master Arion teach me—honestly, I'm more excited than scared at the moment."
Sera smiled back. "Good. You're not alone in this."
Together, they walked off to their next class, hearts considerably lighter. With a legendary mentor to guide him and his best friend at his side, Kelan felt more ready than ever to face whatever challenges the future would bring.
Chapter 24
Two days after Master Arion's arrival, Kelan found himself back in the training yard for his afternoon combat practice. The sky was overcast and the air heavy with the promise of rain as students paired off with wooden practice swords and staffs. Normally, these sessions were straightforward drills under the watchful eye of Armsmaster Jorun, but today a crackle of tension ran through the group—tension centered on Cassian.
Cassian stood across the ring of students, jaw set and eyes narrowed. Ever since the telekinesis demonstration, his demeanor toward Kelan had grown colder. Kelan suspected why: he had been singled out by Master Arion and praised in front of everyone. For someone as proud as Cassian, that was a bitter pill.
"Pair up, swords only, light contact!" Armsmaster Jorun barked, breaking Kelan's thoughts. The muscular instructor strode through the ring of students. "This is practice, not a duel. Control your strikes. Understood?"
"Yes, Armsmaster," the students chorused.
Kelan turned, expecting to partner with Sera as they often did. But Sera was absent today—called away to assist with an alchemy project. Before he could seek another partner, Cassian stepped directly in front of Kelan, wooden sword in hand.
"We should spar," Cassian said flatly. His tone was polite enough, but his eyes bore into Kelan's with open challenge.
Kelan's stomach did a little flip. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Alright," he replied quietly.
They bowed to each other per protocol, though Cassian's bow was a mere dip of the head. Around them, other pairs began the rhythmic dance of practice bouts. Jorun observed from a short distance, arms crossed.
Cassian came at Kelan immediately with a testing swing. The wooden blades cracked together, jarring Kelan's arm. He parried and stepped back, falling into the familiar footwork patterns drilled into them over months. For the first few passes, Cassian attacked and Kelan defended. The strikes came quick and precise—Cassian wasn't holding back much, if at all. Kelan absorbed the blows on his sword, feeling the sting in his palms.
"Come on, Kelan," Cassian muttered as their swords locked near the hilt. "You can do better than this. Or do you only know how to move things with your mind now?"
Kelan gritted his teeth, saying nothing. He pushed off and circled, trying to maintain the form Jorun taught—steady breathing, balanced steps. Cassian's taunt hit a nerve, but Kelan forced himself not to respond. He remembered Master Arion's counsel: power is meaningless without control.
Cassian lunged suddenly. Kelan reacted on instinct, parrying and twisting aside. Perhaps frustration crept into Cassian's technique then, because he followed up with a flurry of strikes that were harder and less controlled. Kelan dodged one, blocked another, but the third caught him on the shoulder. Pain blossomed, though it was a glancing hit as Kelan shifted away.
A few of the nearest students paused their own bouts to watch the escalating duel. Cassian smirked as he stepped back. "That's one," he said softly.
They reset. Kelan rolled his shoulder; it would bruise later, but he could manage. Cassian pressed forward again, clearly intent on overwhelming him. Kelan began to anticipate his patterns—two high strikes, then a low sweep. When Cassian came in high, Kelan preemptively disengaged and darted to the side. Cassian's swing sliced empty air. Seizing the opening, Kelan tapped the tip of his wooden sword to Cassian's ribs from the flank—a clean touch.
Cassian's cheeks flushed with anger as he stepped back. Now they were even. Around them, a few other pairs had stopped sparring entirely, sensing this exchange had escalated beyond a friendly exercise.
"Keep moving!" Jorun barked at the idle onlookers. "This isn't a spectacle. Focus on your own sparring." Still, his gaze remained fixed on Kelan and Cassian.
They faced off for a third exchange. Kelan held his sword in guard and concentrated. His heart hammered, but he forced his breaths to steady. Cassian's eyes narrowed; he charged with a burst of aggression.
Their swords clashed loudly. Cassian drove Kelan backward with a series of powerful blows. Kelan absorbed them, yielding ground but maintaining defense. Cassian aimed a heavy overhead swing at Kelan's flank. Kelan brought his sword up to parry, but the impact was fierce. The wooden blade flew from his grip, clattering to the dirt. In the next instant, Cassian stepped in, the tip of his practice sword hovering an inch from Kelan's throat.
A few gasps rang out. Cassian's chest heaved, and triumph flashed in his eyes. By sparring rules, the round was his—he'd disarmed Kelan, a decisive win.
But Cassian didn't lower his weapon. Instead, he spoke in a low hiss only Kelan could hear. "Is that all, 'Chosen One'? Without Master Arion here to hold your hand?"
Kelan's face went hot at the taunt. A part of him wanted to answer Cassian's sneer with a show of force—he could easily give Cassian a telekinetic shove onto his backside. The thought flickered and died in the same instant. No. That was the wrong way.
Slowly, Kelan raised his hands in surrender. "Yield," he said clearly, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
Cassian blinked, caught off guard by Kelan's calm capitulation. He had likely expected a retort or desperate move. Instead, Kelan had chosen to end it.
Armsmaster Jorun strode over, scowling. "Cassian, that's enough. Point and bout to you," he declared, emphasizing that the contest was concluded.
Cassian finally lowered his sword. He forced a tight smile and offered a hand to Kelan, as if to help him up from a fall. Kelan bent to pick up his own wooden blade, ignoring the gesture. His limbs trembled slightly—not from fear or defeat, but from holding back the surge of anger Cassian had provoked.
"Good bout," Kelan managed. He meant it sincerely. Cassian had bested him in skill and strength, but Kelan also knew he'd won a different sort of victory over himself.
Cassian's expression flickered through confusion, perhaps disappointment. "Yeah. Good bout," he muttered. Without another word, Cassian turned and stalked away as Jorun blew a horn to signal the end of practice.
As the other apprentices scattered toward the cool-down drills, Kelan let out a long breath and stretched his arms, releasing tension. A light drizzle began to fall from the brooding clouds, speckling the dirt yard.
Jorun gave Kelan a subtle nod of approval as he called an end to practice. Despite technically losing the bout, Kelan felt oddly at peace.
He retrieved his practice sword and returned it to the rack. Across the yard, Cassian stood with a few friends, throwing glances Kelan's way. He didn't even glare this time—his face was unreadable.
Kelan slung his satchel over his shoulder and headed toward the dormitories. Under the eaves of the training hall, he was surprised to find Master Arion waiting.
The sage must have seen at least part of the sparring. Arion offered a faint smile. "You showed good judgment today," he said simply.
Kelan relaxed, realizing Arion understood exactly why he had yielded. "Thank you, Master."
Arion inclined his head. "Shall we continue with our lesson?"
Walking away with Arion as the drizzle turned to steady rain, Kelan glanced back once. Cassian stood in the wet yard, watching them with a storm of emotion on his face. Kelan turned forward again, stepping beneath the dry circle of Arion's subtle ward against the rain. He had chosen restraint over pride—and in doing so, he felt he'd won something far more important than a sparring match.
Chapter 25
The Academy's grand auditorium buzzed with voices and magical illumination as the cultural symposium got underway. Delegations from various realms had gathered. It was a rare, prestigious event meant to foster understanding between magical cultures.
Kelan sat toward the side of the hall with a few other senior apprentices, serving as ushers and assistants. He felt both excitement and nervousness. This was his first time seeing so many dignitaries in one place, and the air was thick with authority and arcane talent. At the front of the hall, on a raised dais, Headmistress Celindra moderated a panel discussion between an Imperial minister and a visiting mage from the eastern steppes.
The Imperial minister, Lord Marshal Oren, was a stout man with a neatly trimmed gray beard, representing the Empire's Council on Magical Affairs. Opposite him sat Master Zujan, a tall, robed mage with coppery skin and elaborate braids, hailing from the Xanshari Consortium—a coalition of city-states known for elemental magic.
Between them on the dais burned a gentle blue magefire lantern, symbolizing unity of magic. But unity was strained.
"Master Zujan's demonstration was enlightening," Minister Oren said carefully. "In our Empire, however, conjuring spirits is heavily regulated for safety."
Master Zujan's smile thinned. "Safety is paramount in Xanshari as well, Minister. We do not summon spirits recklessly. It sounds as if you suggest otherwise—"
"I implied no disrespect," Oren broke in, maintaining a thin smile. "I only meant our cultural approaches differ."
Master Zujan inclined his head. "In Xanshari, we find fear often comes from lack of understanding, Minister. We accept our ancestors' spirits as natural. We are not 'unsafe' for doing so."
A few in the audience gasped at the pointed remark. The minister's cheeks darkened.
Headmistress Celindra stepped forward smoothly, hands raised. "Gentlemen—"
Before she could diffuse the brewing tension, Kelan rose from his seat at the side and stepped toward the dais. His heart pounded; he wasn't even sure what he'd say, only that he had to try something. He gave a respectful bow. "Pardon the interruption, honored sirs," he said, voice clear in the hushed hall.
All eyes turned to him. Kelan's mouth went dry, but he continued. "My name is Kelan, an apprentice here. I had the privilege of observing Master Zujan's spirit conjuration up close while assisting behind the scenes."
Minister Oren arched an eyebrow, surprised by the interjection. Master Zujan looked at Kelan curiously, likely wondering where this was going. Headmistress Celindra gave him a slight nod to proceed.
Kelan mustered a polite smile. "I just wanted to remark on how the demonstration exemplified both the diversity and commonality of magical practice. Master Zujan's ancestral spirit share a similar intent: to seek wisdom and guidance from beyond the present."
He glanced at Minister Oren. "Lord Oren, you spoke of regulation and safety. I think you would be interested to know that Master Zujan took great care in his summoning circle's construction. I noticed it included containment runes nearly identical to those used in Imperial summonings. In essence, both our cultures enforce responsibility in magic – we just do it through different means."
Kelan then turned toward Master Zujan. "And Master, I was struck by how respectfully you introduced your ancestor spirit—much as we, in the Empire, open our symposium by lighting a candle for those who came before us. Different method, same reverence."
Master Zujan's stern posture softened; he gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
A gentle silence fell. Many heads in the audience bobbed in agreement. Kelan could see tension easing from the shoulders of those on stage. Some of the Imperial guards even relaxed their stances.
Headmistress Celindra seized the moment with a light laugh. "Well said, Apprentice Kelan. Truly, we are all here to learn from one another's perspectives."
She looked to the two dignitaries. "Perhaps Lord Oren and Master Zujan find they have more in common after all. Both of your cultures revere lineage greatly—be it through family lines or institutional tradition."
Master Zujan offered the minister a more genuine smile. "The young man has a point. Responsibility, indeed, is what my people emphasize. We simply trust each mage to uphold it, where you have formal structures. Neither is wrong—just different."
Minister Oren nodded slowly. "And we too honor our forebears—if not by summoning their spirits, then by preserving their words." He shot Kelan a grateful glance. "Perhaps our caution sometimes makes us quick to judge what we don't practice ourselves. I meant no insult, Master Zujan."
The foreign mage inclined his head graciously. "And I took none, good Minister." (That polite fib earned a few chuckles.)
Polite applause spread through the hall, led by Celindra. The crisis was over. Kelan exhaled, realizing how tense he'd been. He slipped back to his seat, face warm but heart light. Sera, who had returned and seen the exchange from the back, beamed at him.
During the break after the panel, as attendees mingled over refreshments, Minister Oren approached Kelan. The Imperial official offered a handshake, which Kelan took respectfully.
"Young man," Oren said, "you have a diplomat's tongue. Thank you for your intervention. We old dogs sometimes bark at each other out of habit. A fresh perspective works wonders."
Kelan dipped his head. "I'm glad I could help, Minister. I've been studying different magical traditions... it's fascinating how much overlap there is."
Master Zujan joined them, a cup of spiced tea in hand. "Kelan, is it? I must thank you as well. You did not have to step in, but you showed understanding of my culture beyond what I expected from an apprentice."
Kelan flushed with pride. "I read about Xanshari customs last year when a delegation visited," he said. "And Master Dahan taught us comparative ritual theory. I just connected the dots."
Zujan chuckled. "Those who can connect dots between worlds are rare. The Empire and our Consortium could use more bridges like you."
They moved on to converse with others, and Sera bounced up to Kelan's side, nearly spilling a pastry in her excitement. "Word of your little speech is spreading. You might have a future as an ambassador!"
Kelan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I only said what seemed obvious."
Sera shot him a knowing look. "Obvious to you. The rest were at a loss until you spoke up." She nudged him. "I'm proud of you."
He smiled, feeling a glow of satisfaction. "It makes me think—so many conflicts are just misunderstandings. If bridging a small gap can stop an argument, bridging bigger gaps might stop wars."
Sera studied him. "That sounded suspiciously like prophecy-level thinking."
He nodded. "I can't help but connect it. Power might win battles, but understanding prevents them. Maybe part of fulfilling that prophecy is helping people see eye to eye."
Sera linked her arm through his. "And you're already doing it. Magic and politics, heart and mind—it's all connected."
As evening fell and the symposium concluded with a toast to cooperation, Kelan had earned numerous nods of respect and a public commendation from the Headmistress. Master Dahan caught him on the way out and said quietly, "Well done, Kelan," which from him was high praise.
By evening, the tension had fully evaporated. Minister Oren and Master Zujan even shared a friendly anecdote over drinks, their earlier conflict forgotten.
As the symposium concluded, Headmistress Celindra made a point to thank all who helped (and gave Kelan a proud nod). Master Dahan squeezed Kelan's shoulder as he passed and murmured, "Well done."
Walking across the courtyard at dusk, Kelan breathed in the cool air. Lamps glowed along the paths and laughter echoed from departing guests. Sera strolled beside him, arm tucked through his.
"So many conflicts come down to understanding, or the lack of it," Kelan reflected. "I think if I'm ever to stop worse disasters, like the prophecy warns, it won't be just with power. It'll be with understanding too."
Sera smiled. "And you've shown you have plenty of that."
Kelan smiled back. Today he had learned that being a mage wasn't only about spells—it was also about people. And with friends and mentors by his side, he felt more ready than ever to face whatever challenges the future would bring.
Chapter 26
Kelan tugged his cloak tighter against the morning breeze as he made his way through the bustling marketplace of Solvan City. The Academy had sent him on a quick errand beyond its walls – a welcome break before the afternoon's practical exams. In his satchel he carried a package of specialized crystal foci, freshly purchased from an enchanter's stall. These crystals would be used for the exam's central apparatus, a magical obelisk that would measure each student's channeling ability.
He paused by a bakery stand when a commotion erupted nearby. A burly thief snatched an elderly woman's purse and sprinted through the crowd. Kelan acted without thinking – a gentle telekinetic push sent a stack of crates toppling into the thief's path. The man tripped and went sprawling, the purse flying from his hand. Kelan calmly retrieved it and returned it to the breathless woman.
"Thank you, young man," she gasped, eyes shining with gratitude.
Kelan just smiled and slipped away into the crowd as city guards took the thief into custody. He didn't need any recognition; the woman's relieved smile was more than enough.
By afternoon, the third-year apprentices gathered in the Academy's open-air atrium for their practical exam. At the center stood a tall black obelisk etched with runes, fitted with the focus crystals Kelan had delivered.
Students took turns channeling magic into the obelisk, which glowed to reflect their power. Sera's turn produced a steady mid-level glow, showcasing her control. Cassian, by contrast, poured an excessive torrent of energy into the pillar. The runes blazed under his onslaught until an ominous crack and flicker of a focus crystal signaled the obelisk was under strain. A murmur of unease rippled through the audience.
When Kelan's name was called, he stepped up and steadied himself. At Master Dahan's signal, Kelan closed his eyes briefly to center himself, then sent a steady silvery stream of telekinetic energy into the obelisk's apex. The runes brightened to near the top of the scale as he carefully increased the flow. Kelan felt in control – the obelisk drank in his power smoothly and the crowd murmured in awe at the strength and stability of his output.
Suddenly, the obelisk emitted a loud crack. Fracture lines raced across its apex and it began to tip with a groan. One of the base crystals popped free and skittered away. The massive pillar, easily a thousand pounds of stone, was collapsing toward a group of students—including Sera and Cassian.
Time seemed to slow. Kelan reacted on pure instinct. He flung out one hand and seized the falling obelisk with his mind. Every ounce of telekinetic strength he possessed surged forward. The pillar shuddered to a halt, suspended at an angle just feet above the ground. Kelan stood trembling, one hand raised as if physically upholding the stone.
Gasps and cries fell silent. For a heartbeat, Kelan wasn't sure he could hold it—the weight was tremendous, pressing against his mind. His vision blurred at the edges.
Then Master Arion thrust out his own hand, adding his power to Kelan's. The crushing weight eased.
"Easy now," Arion said calmly.
Together, they gently lowered the fractured pillar the remaining distance. It thudded onto the courtyard flagstones, sending up a puff of dust. A collective cheer of relief went up.
Kelan's arm dropped to his side. He swayed, dizzy with exertion. Master Arion was at his elbow in an instant to steady him.
There was a beat of stunned silence, then a surge of cheers when everyone realized the danger had passed. Kelan lowered his trembling hand, heart pounding, and caught Master Arion's reassuring nod.
Sera raced to Kelan and threw her arms around him. "By all the stars, Kelan! Are you alright?" she cried.
He managed a shaky grin. "I'm okay. Just a bit drained."
Cassian approached, rubbing a scrape on his arm from diving away. His face was pale, eyes wide with what might have been gratitude. "You saved us," he said, almost grudgingly.
Kelan nodded, still catching his breath. "I'm glad you're alright."
The examiners were already tending to the mess and urgently discussing what had gone wrong. Headmistress Celindra had arrived, overseeing the situation with a stern, pale face that softened when she saw all the students unharmed.
Master Dahan stepped forward. "We are deeply sorry for this incident. Rest assured, we will find and fix the cause. In the meantime, I think we can agree one student went above and beyond expectations."
All eyes turned to Kelan. He flushed as applause and cheers erupted. Even the instructors joined in the applause.
When the clapping died down and students began dispersing, Cassian lingered behind. He approached Kelan slowly. For a tense moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Cassian cleared his throat. "Thank you," he muttered, eyes cast down. Then he looked up and met Kelan's gaze directly. "Really. Thank you."
Kelan gave a small, sincere smile and extended his hand. Cassian grasped it in a firm shake. In that brief moment, a silent understanding passed between them. "Anytime," Kelan said.
That evening, Kelan and Sera sat together on a bench in the quiet courtyard, watching the first stars blink into view. The Academy grounds were peaceful again.
"You were amazing today," Sera said softly. "You've become the kind of mage who steps up when it counts."
Kelan squeezed her hand gently, drawing strength from her presence. "I couldn't have done any of this without my friends and teachers," he replied. "I'm just grateful everyone's safe."
Sera leaned her head against his shoulder. "Whatever comes next, we'll handle it."
Kelan looked up at the night sky, the prophecy's uncertain future on his mind but no longer filling him with fear. He had found courage, wisdom, and a sense of purpose – and he wouldn't face the future alone.
"Together," he agreed quietly.
Under the steadfast light of the stars, Kelan allowed himself a hopeful smile. His mind had awakened to its power and responsibility, and he was ready to forge ahead on the path that lay before him.