The wind gently lifted the edges of Dean Ford’s tunic, making them sway in the fading orange light that bathed the terrace. The low sun shone over the crystal cups set between them, tinting their reflections with amber.

  “Tell me,” Kael suddenly asked, “what class am I supposed to take tomorrow?”

  Ford turned his head toward him, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  “For you, Kael, the schedule will be… a bit unusual. You’ll be following an accelerated program.

  Only the wilderness survival lessons will truly matter.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

  “Survival? Seriously?

  If I’m really one of the Fragmented, I doubt learning to make a fire or build a shelter will help me much.”

  The Dean took a sip of wine before answering, perfectly calm.

  “If you survive the Trial, such skills may prove useful… outside.”

  Kael frowned.

  “Outside?”

  “Yes. The world doesn’t end at the walls of Lucénine or Soléandre.”

  Kael crossed his arms.

  “And what exactly does this survival course teach?”

  Ford straightened slightly, adopting the professorial tone he seemed to enjoy.

  “It is a simple curriculum, on the surface.

  You will learn the handling of basic weapons, shelter-building, fire making, foraging, and a few advanced notions… about the Overdrawn.”

  Kael narrowed his eyes.

  “The… Overdrawn?”

  “Yes,” Ford answered, as if continuing naturally.

  But Kael didn’t move.

  His tone had dropped, weighted with suspicion.

  “No, wait. What is an ‘Overdrawn’?”

  The Dean froze mid-sentence.

  His gaze lingered on Kael, as if verifying he wasn’t joking.

  “You… don’t know what an Overdrawn is?”

  Kael gave a half-smile—the kind he used whenever he sensed someone else’s certainty beginning to crack.

  “No.

  But I guess it’s some kind of… renegade? A bandit who’s taken too much Elan into his veins?

  Or maybe some improved version of a highway thug?”

  The Dean didn’t answer.

  His fingers tightened on the wine carafe.

  He poured himself another glass slowly, without breaking eye contact, then said in a tone almost distracted:

  “You are… surprising, Kael.”

  “I try,” Kael replied, sitting back.

  Ford offered him the glass.

  Kael raised a hand in refusal.

  “No thanks. I prefer keeping a clear head when someone talks to me about concepts I don’t understand.”

  The Dean insisted, faintly unsettled.

  “It’s an excellent vintage, though.”

  “And an excellent way to drown inconvenient questions, isn’t it?” Kael said with an ironic smile.

  Ford froze.

  The wine rippled in his cup for a brief moment, then stilled.

  A heavy silence settled between them.

  Kael tilted his head, amused.

  “Come on, Dean. If these ‘Overdrawn’ are so harmless, why did you suddenly lose your confidence?”

  Ford remained silent.

  The terrace wind made the pale curtains sway, lifting swirls of golden dust around them.

  “The Overdrawn…” he finally said, his voice slow,

  “are neither men, nor ordinary creatures.

  When Elan destabilizes—or saturates its host’s core—it creates these things. Living forms without coherence.”

  Kael frowned, his expression hardening.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Wait… things? What exactly are you talking about?”

  “The greatest threat this world has ever known,” the Dean answered without flinching.

  “You live on Soléandre, don’t you, Kael? You’ve never heard of them?”

  Kael stayed silent for a moment.

  His gaze drifted toward the distant city, toward the lights of Lucénine—so far, so calm.

  Then he gave a nervous little laugh.

  “In the Broken Crown, the worst enemies we run into are hunger… and rats.

  If those things exist, they never bothered coming to visit us.”

  Ford stared at him for a long time, unsettled.

  “That’s impossible. Even children know about the Overdrawn. Their existence is taught in schools, in every city—”

  “Not in mine,” Kael cut in, harsher than he intended.

  “Where I come from, we learn to count bread, not monsters.”

  The Dean straightened, visibly thrown off.

  “So you know nothing about them… absolutely nothing?”

  Kael shook his head.

  “Nothing.

  And honestly, I’d prefer it stayed that way.”

  Ford stepped closer to the balustrade, glass in hand.

  “These beings are consequences of Elan disturbances. Some take the shape of twisted men, others… of entire places.

  When they appear, the land itself can change.

  Stones breathe, rivers reverse, memories blur.”

  Kael blanched without noticing.

  His mind struggled to assemble the images, a chill creeping down his neck.

  “And… can they be killed?” he finally asked.

  “Some of them.

  The weaker ones.

  But others can only be avoided… or contained.”

  Kael let out a short, nervous breath.

  “Lovely.

  I’m starting to understand why your survival classes are so… necessary.”

  Ford gave a faint, joyless smile.

  “If you want to understand the world beyond the walls, you’ll have to learn to fear it a little.”

  Kael looked away, staring at the lanterns swaying at the edge of the terrace.

  His heart beat faster than he wanted to admit.

  Hunger and rats suddenly felt very harmless.

  Ford approached the balustrade slowly, his eyes fixed on him.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve never heard of them…” he murmured.

  “How is that possible?”

  Kael turned away, breath unsteady.

  A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

  “I… I have no idea.

  I swear, Dean, I’ve never heard that word in my life.”

  Ford straightened, even graver than before.

  “And the others in the Broken Crown? The locals, the craftsmen, the officials… do they speak of it? Are they aware of this danger?”

  Kael shook his head slowly.

  “No.

  If they knew something that big, I would’ve heard it at least once.

  Back there, we don’t talk about what happens outside.

  We live day by day, without a horizon.”

  He hesitated, then added, quieter:

  “The Crown is isolated. A stone basin surrounded by mountains.

  Paths are scarce, caravans even scarcer.

  No one comes, no one leaves.

  So no, Dean… if I don’t know, then everyone else must be just as ignorant.”

  Ford stood still, as if struck.

  The breeze made the rings of the hanging lanterns chime softly.

  His eyes drifted toward the sky, then back to Kael.

  “That’s… absurd.

  How could an entire place be left in such darkness?”

  Kael shrugged, his voice trembling slightly.

  “Maybe we were easier to forget.

  Or maybe no one thought it was worth warning us.”

  The Dean didn’t respond.

  He seemed to be thinking—troubled, even—by what he had just learned.

  Kael kept his hands clenched on his knees, gaze avoiding his.

  “And these things…

  They’re really out there?” he finally asked.

  “They wander… in the world?”

  Ford nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon line.

  “Yes… they’re out there.

  Everywhere.

  Not just in distant lands or forgotten zones.

  The whole world is threaded with Elan, Kael.

  And anything that contains it can fracture.”

  Kael froze.

  “Anything?”

  “Anything,” the Dean repeated, voice low.

  “Cities, forests, seas, people.

  No place is truly safe.

  We simply learn to live with the threat—contain it, recognize it before it devours us.”

  Kael felt his throat tighten.

  His gaze drifted toward the balustrade, toward the hazy distance.

  The world suddenly felt immense and hollow.

  “You… you really live with that? Every day?”

  “We have no choice,” Ford replied.

  “Closing your eyes doesn’t stop the fracture from spreading.”

  Kael let out a nervous, joyless laugh.

  “In the Broken Crown, our fractures were falling walls and empty stomachs.

  But this…”

  He stopped, shaking his head.

  His hands trembled faintly.

  “How is it possible no one ever warned us?”

  Ford stayed silent for a moment before answering slowly:

  “Perhaps the truth was hidden from you.

  Or perhaps it faded on its own, over the generations.”

  Kael lifted his eyes to him, voice sharper:

  “Forgotten… or erased?”

  The Dean did not answer.

  His expression darkened, and he raised the cup to his lips once more.

  “Get some rest, Kael,” he finally said.

  “Tomorrow, you’ll better understand what you’re up against.”

  Ford remained silent for a moment, his gaze lost in the evening mist.

  His fingers tapped nervously against the empty cup.

  “This conversation… was not supposed to unfold like this,” he murmured.

  Kael lifted his eyes toward him, still pale.

  “Trust me, it wasn’t part of my evening plans either.”

  The Dean let out a joyless laugh, then continued:

  “You intrigue me, Kael.

  And the Broken Crown even more.

  How could an entire place remain so… cut off from the world?”

  Kael shrugged, his voice uncertain.

  “I don’t know.

  We live among ourselves, behind the mountains.

  The only news we get is whatever the wind cares to bring.”

  Ford looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment.

  Then he rose, smoothing an imaginary crease on his sleeve.

  “We will speak again tomorrow evening.

  Come to my office after your classes.

  I will personally teach you the basics of Elan and Trames.

  There is too much you do not know… and I do not intend to let that ignorance persist.”

  Kael nodded slowly.

  “Very well, Dean.”

  “Try to sleep a little. You’ll need it.”

  Ford offered a tired smile and walked toward the door to open it for him.

  But before he could reach the handle, it pushed inward abruptly.

  Two silhouettes appeared in the doorway.

  A tall woman stepped in without a word.

  Her straight, cold gaze didn’t seem to acknowledge Kael at all.

  She brushed past him, bumping his shoulder lightly as she entered.

  Behind her followed a young woman with white hair, her steps lighter, her clear eyes almost translucent under the lantern light.

  Ford recoiled slightly, startled.

  “My lady… you were not expected.”

  But the tall woman ignored him entirely and continued forward, her presence alone filling the room.

  Kael, unsettled, took a step back.

  A sudden draft of cold air brushed the back of his neck.

  Without a word, he moved aside and slipped out of the office—almost pushed out by the sheer weight of their presence.

  The door closed behind him with a soft click.

  The corridor, bathed in dim light, suddenly felt endless.

  Kael stood still for a moment, heart tight.

  Then he headed toward his room, his fingers clenched in his pockets.

  With every step, the silence seemed to thicken.

  And within that silence, the Dean’s words still echoed:

  “Anything that contains Elan can fracture.”