Cale was trying to see through time.
At least, that's what it felt like. He sat cross-legged on his straw bed as the sun slipped away outside, the shadows in the storage building stretching long and thin. The other kids murmured or stirred, but no one paid him much mind. He kept his gaze down, both hands resting over the spiral mark on his wrist.
He could feel it now—the way it warmed when he breathed a certain way, the way the world went a little quieter when he let himself lean into the silence. Emis had given him no instructions. No guidance. Just one cryptic truth: You're already leaking.
So Cale practiced.
He closed his eyes. Slowed his breath and poured all his concentration into that one vision he had back when he was still kept in the old wooden house.
He thought of the castle. The door. The voices. Emis telling him to wake up.
Then—like wind curling under a door—he felt something shift. Not sight. Not sound. But a sense. A tug.
He leaned into it.
And for a blink—he saw a hallway he'd never walked, lined with banners of deep blue and gold. He smelled burning oil and heard footsteps—his footsteps—echoing.
The scene felt like his entire being was swept away inside this vision.
Then it was gone.
His breath caught. His fingers gripped his wrist, pulse thudding under his thumb.
It was almost like an instinct telling him. Something inside him—deep within—emerged with a single truth. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. It was real scenery. Every five senses of his were telling him—
Clairvoyance.
He wiped sweat from his brow and lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what he'd seen.
That's when Regan appeared beside his bed.
"You okay?" he asked, peering down with a raised brow.
"Yeah," Cale said quickly. "Just… tired."
Regan studied him, clearly unconvinced. "You look like someone trying to bite the future and choking on it."
Cale smirked despite himself. "Is that a noble idiom?"
Regan shrugged. "My tutor had a dramatic flair." He sat down on the edge of the bed across from Cale, brushing straw off his pants. "Speaking of tutors—what do you know about the Veyrathi?"
Cale froze. "…Why are you asking?"
Regan chuckled. "Relax. Just thinking about old stories. It came up in one of my lessons when I was younger. My history tutor used to rant about them. Said they were the root of every war before the Elementals took over."
"Elementals?" Cale echoed, grateful for the shift in topic.
"Yeah," Regan nodded. "You know—the ones that helped cleanse the kingdom. Ended the Veyrathi reign of terror. At least, that's how the noble records tell it. They say the Elementals brought order. Balance. Magic is tied to nature and discipline, not to chaotic contracts with ancient creatures."
Regan leaned back and spoke with a slightly distant tone. "Veyrathi, though… Those were something else. They didn't borrow from nature. They borrowed from something beyond. Something older. They made pacts with Yvelari—divine animals, powerful beings. At least, that's how the stories go. One of the tales mentioned a Veyrathi bringing down a fortress with a whisper."
Cale listened, heart pounding.
"But it was the elementals who saved us all, you know. And it stuck," Regan continued. "Now every noble child gets tested. If you're an Elementalist, you're halfway to power already. It's a guaranteed place in court. The royals practically worship them."
Cale frowned. "And if you're not?"
Regan smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then you study history and get good at smiling. Which I did. Turns out, being clever and charming only takes you so far."
He paused, then added, "People don't talk about the Veyrathi in public anymore. The name's been erased from textbooks. But nobles like my family—we know they existed. Not just stories. Real people, with power tied to those creatures. Yvelari, right?"
Cale nodded slowly.
"Yeah. Yvelari."
Regan continued. "They say one Veyrathi could level cities with the right pact. And one of them almost ended the world. That's what they told me, anyway."
"And then?" Cale asked.
"They were purged. Wiped out. Bloodlines severed. Anyone with their blood was hunted like beasts."
There was a pause. Cale's fingers brushed the mark on his wrist.
Regan caught the motion but said nothing. Outwardly, his expression was neutral, if slightly curious. But inwardly, he was thinking:
That's twice now he's reacted to that name. And he knows that word. Yvelari. That's not something commoners say.
Regan didn't press. He just tucked that knowledge away, curiosity coiling quietly inside him like a cat waiting to pounce. Whatever Cale was, he wasn't ordinary.
But Regan liked mysteries. Especially dangerous ones.
"Anyway," Regan said aloud, shifting the topic as if nothing had passed between them, "doesn't really matter now. The kingdom's Elemental Council makes the rules. They say the Veyrathi were a mistake we're still recovering from."
Cale nodded absently. "Right."
_________________
Later that night, the storage building was quiet.
The boy across the room—one with too-large eyes and a nervous habit of scratching at his sleeve—kept glancing at Cale.
Cale noticed. He tried to ignore it. He couldn't.
The boy looked away whenever Cale met his gaze. But every few minutes, he was staring again. In a normal situation Cale wouldn't have minded any of this. But this kid—something about him made Cale unnerved.
This was the same kid who had shifted besides him when he was talking with Emis the other night. Cale had thought the boy was just tossing and turning in his sleep. But now, he had a very bad idea about the kid.
What if he was listening to me speak to Emis the entire time?
Then—something in Cale snapped.
He stood and crossed the room quickly. Too quickly.
He grabbed the boy by the collar. "What are you looking at?"
The boy stammered. "N-Nothing. I swear—"
"You were listening the other night, weren't you? You heard me talking."
"No! I was—I was asleep!"
"You were faking it."
The boy squirmed, panicking.
"Cale!"
A voice called out sharply.
Cale turned toward the voice, startled. He hadn't expected anyone else to know his name.
A girl stood just a few steps away—brown hair cropped short in a pixie cut, her eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. She looked to be around his age. He recognized her vaguely—they'd shared the same space for days now—but they'd never spoken. Not once.
Yet she said his name like she'd known it forever.
"Let him go," she said again.
"He was spying—"
"He's a kid," she snapped. "You want to scare someone, pick on someone your size."
Cale frowned. "You don't know what's going on here."
"Neither do you, apparently."
Their voices rose. The room stirred.
Then another voice cut in.
"Enough."
Regan stepped forward, inserting himself between them.
Cale let go of the boy, who scrambled back to his corner, shaking.
Cale turned to Regan, but his friend wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the girl.
"…Rosanna?"
She raised a brow. "Took you long enough."
Regan blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You're here?"
Regan was surprised. He was not expecting someone from his previous group to be there in the same place as him again. He had often talked with Rosanna before they were brought to this place. He wondered—if he should have known that someone he knew was also there with him.
But it seemed like Regan had been too occupied with Cale the last few days that he had completely missed her.
Rosanna continued. "I've been here. You two were just too busy whispering in corners to notice."
Cale's confusion deepened. She knew Regan too?
Rosanna glared back at Cale. "You touch him again, and I'll break your arm."
Cale glared right back. "Try it."
Regan sighed and shoved Cale gently toward his bed. "That's enough. We shouldn't be fighting inside the enemies' liar."
They didn't speak again that night.
But Cale lay awake, heart pounding, wondering how close he'd just come to proving everyone's worst fears about the Veyrathi. He could not let something like that happen ever again. In order to do that, Cale knew he had to escape out of this place quickly.
If only he were at his home, his parents would have been able to teach him all about his powers and how to control it. He would have done good. He would have led a simple and fulfilling life. But he was stuck here—cold, dirty, confused and homesick.
His mind went back to the girl he had a fight with. Cale wondered why she knew his name.
Maybe since she and Regan were acquaintances, she just happened to know my name too.
But Cale thought again.
Even if she knew Regan, there was no reason for her to sneakily gather information about me.
Cale was wondering if she knew something about him. And whether Rosanna had seen more than she let on.
During that moment, his father's words kept ringing inside his head—'You should be paranoid'.
Across the room, Regan lay awake too.
Still thinking.
Still watching.