Raine staggered back, ripping his hand from the stone as though burned. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heartbeat a hammer against his ribs. The chamber tilted, the ghostly glow of the markings flickering in and out of focus.
The whispering had stopped.
But something had changed.
Kael watched him carefully, his expression unreadable. "What did you hear?"
Raine swallowed hard.
The voices had been there. Real. Pressing against his mind like hands reaching from the dark. Not words, not fully, but something deeper. Something ancient.
Something that knew him.
He clenched his jaw. "I don't know."
Kael exhaled, looking at the dais as though weighing something unseen. "That will have to do for now."
Raine's frustration flared. "That's it?" He took a step forward. "You dragged me down here, told me the Arcanum fears me, that I take power instead of wielding it like a normal mage—and now you're just done?"
Kael's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a drawn blade. "Do you want the full answer, Raine?" His voice was quiet, but something in it made the hairs on Raine's arms stand on end. "Because you won't like it."
Raine held his ground. "Tell me anyway."
A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Then Kael sighed and leaned against one of the stone pillars, crossing his arms. "Fine."
He gestured toward the markings surrounding them. "The Weaving Society calls this place the Hollow, but long before they claimed it—before even the Arcanum took power—this was something else." His voice lowered slightly. "A prison, of sorts. Not for people." He tilted his head. "For things that shouldn't exist."
Raine's stomach twisted. "Things like me."
Kael didn't deny it.
"They call you Abyss-Touched because they think they understand what you are. But they don't. No one does." His gaze darkened. "They've spent centuries erasing every trace of it, making sure no records remain. And yet—" He gestured to the dais. "Something remembers."
Raine rubbed his arms, forcing himself to stay steady. "And that's why the Arcanum wants me dead."
Kael nodded once. "Yes. Because the last time someone like you survived, entire cities vanished."
Cold. A shiver traced Raine's spine, curling in his gut like a sickness.
Cities vanished.
He had expected answers. He hadn't expected that.
"You said I take power." His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to ask. "What does that mean?"
Kael studied him for a long moment before answering.
"It means magic doesn't work the same for you as it does for them." He spoke carefully, as though piecing the words together even as he said them. "For Weavers, Essence comes from somewhere—it's borrowed, shaped, refined into spells. But you?"
His eyes held something deeper than wariness.
"You don't borrow."
Raine felt his stomach sink.
"I steal it."
Kael's expression didn't shift, but his silence was answer enough.
Raine exhaled shakily. "That's why the Arcanum fears me. It's not just about control, is it? It's about what I am."
Kael nodded. "And what you could become."
The words settled over him like a weight.
They didn't fear him because he was dangerous now.
They feared what he could be.
Something uncontrolled. Something unnatural. Something the Arcanum had spent centuries wiping from existence.
The room felt colder.
Kael pushed off the pillar. "I didn't bring you here just to scare you." He motioned toward one of the arched corridors leading deeper into the underground network. "The Society is waiting."
Raine blinked, forcing himself to focus. "You're taking me to them now?"
"That was the deal." Kael's voice was even. "They agreed to take you in—but they'll be watching."
Raine swallowed. So this was still a test.
He wasn't being accepted. He was being evaluated.
He glanced at the stone dais one last time.
The whispering had faded. But he could still feel it—the weight of something lingering just at the edges of his mind.
Waiting.
He clenched his fists and followed Kael into the darkness.