Ashes don't lie

Chapter 2: Ashes Don’t Lie

The window was open.

The wind curled in — sharp, unnatural. Not the breeze of night, but something colder. Intentional.

Eliar’s heart pounded in his throat as he blinked away the remnants of the nightmare. His skin was slick with sweat, but the room was freezing.

Across the space, Kael stood barefoot at the window, one hand resting against the frame, his other clutching that same black book from earlier.

“You dreamt it too, didn’t you?” Kael asked softly, not turning.

Eliar sat up, throat dry. “What… what was that?”

Kael didn’t answer.

Instead, he finally turned, and the wind slammed the window shut behind him with a force that made the glass quake.

“I don’t like roommates,” Kael said flatly. “But I especially don’t like sleeping near *triggers.*”

Eliar flinched. “What do you mean, ‘triggers’?”

Kael’s expression was unreadable. “You smell like old blood and forgotten things. You feel like… war.”

Eliar tried to laugh it off. “You’re seriously weird.”

Kael’s eyes darkened. “You’re seriously *dangerous*.”

Silence fell between them like a dropped blade.

***

The next morning, Eliar found a note taped to his locker.

_You don’t belong here. Leave. Before it starts._

No name. No signature. Just that same tight feeling in his chest that hadn’t gone away since he arrived.

Classes were strange.

Students whispered. Professors spoke in riddles. No one seemed to use the word *magic*, but everything *reeked* of it. Reality bent strangely in certain corners of the campus. Hallways that shouldn't connect somehow did. Clocks slowed when you stared too long.

And always, Kael was there.

Silent. Watchful.

A shadow stitched too tightly to Eliar’s new world.

They didn’t speak again for days.

Until the incident.

***

It started in *Combat Theory* — a class that was more war zone than lecture. Their professor, an ex-enforcer named Madam Ruelle, had paired students off for sparring. Eliar was tossed into the ring with a fourth-year named Fenrick, a hulking brute with scars across his jaw and a grin that promised pain.

“You sure you wanna be here, newbie?” Fenrick chuckled as he circled. “Obsidian Wing eats weaklings.”

Eliar clenched his fists. “Try me.”

The duel started fast.

Fenrick was ruthless, throwing hard blows with enchanted brass-knuckles that sparked on impact. Eliar dodged and weaved, but he wasn’t trained like the others. His reflexes were raw, instinctual.

And then — he slipped.

His foot caught on a crack in the training mat. He fell hard, breath knocked out.

Fenrick raised his fist.

Too slow.

Eliar threw up his arm to shield—

And then *everything exploded*.

Not literally. But the energy that burst from Eliar’s body sent Fenrick flying backward across the arena.

Students gasped. Madam Ruelle dropped her clipboard.

And Kael, watching from the shadows, *smiled*.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

Eliar’s arm trembled. His veins glowed faintly with an unnatural hue — gold laced with onyx. It faded quickly, but not before Ruelle narrowed her eyes.

“…You’re not untrained,” she muttered. “You’re *sealed*.”

“What?”

She straightened. “Class dismissed.”

***

That night, Eliar didn’t sleep.

Not because of fear. But because of *Kael*.

He sat down beside him on the dorm floor without asking. The moonlight cut across Kael’s cheekbones like silver knives.

“You knew,” Eliar whispered. “Didn’t you?”

Kael didn’t respond.

But then, he said — too softly — “I was supposed to kill you, Eliar.”

Eliar froze.

Kael met his eyes.