13. The Burning Sun

It burned.

He wasn’t sure what was happening; he just knew it burned.

He watched as his class flickered and felt the mana that pulsed through him shift. Change. It felt like fire was injected into his veins, and with the burning came rage.

Rage stronger than anything he had ever felt.

He didn’t realize what he was saying until she spoke back, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have stayed in the Reliquary. At least I wouldn’t be ruining people, right?”

He blinked a few times, the pain still bubbling through his veins, and he could see gold energy crackling under his skin.

“Apologize,” He heard Rowan growl, “You. Better. Apologize.”

Garran looked at him in horror as Kael’s breath came out ragged. Myra disappeared behind Crow. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“I–I–” Kael stuttered for a moment before his expression hardened, “Why should I care how she feels? She’s the one–”

“She did nothing to you,” Rowan stood, his limbs trembling, barely keeping himself together, “I take it back, Kiki, you’re more cruel than you were before. Do you really think she had the power to tamper with all of our Codex at once? She burned her hands with her own mana healing you, and you think she’s capable of something so elaborate?”

Kael watched as Rowan’s eyes slowly grew darker, more feral, his canines elongating.

“You–you were pretty cruel, man. She was just as shocked as you were.” Garran said, his voice hesitant.

“I–I don’t know!” He shouted, “I didn’t mean–she–I couldn’t control myself.” Kael’s fists clinched, the heat still radiating through him, he felt just as out of control as Rowan looked.

“I don’t care about your excuses, find her. Apologize. I. I can’t even look at you right now.” Rowan snarled, quickly leaving.

Garran gave him a look of pity, “Look, man, I don’t know what happened. But, that was messed up. I’m going to go–go check on her. She was shaking man.” he pushed himself up, sparing one last glance over to Kael before chasing after Myra and Crow.

Kael glared at the table just for a wave of guilt to crash over him. The tart–that stupid damn tart she worked so hard to get–was crushed on the table. Her codex blinked beside it. He knew this wasn’t her fault. He didn’t understand why he exploded that way. He was always in control. His explosive magic, what he did with his life, aand dvancing his class. He was always in control.

Then she shows up. She brings him back from the brink of death and suddenly his whole life is taken over by her. He hated it.

The Codex was still pulsing.

Kael stared at it, teeth clenched. It hummed softly—no, it breathed, like it was alive. The thing flickered, glyphs crawling like veins of light across the surface.

He shouldn't look.

He already felt twisted enough.

But he couldn’t stop.

He leaned over the open screen. The moment his fingers brushed the edge—

The Codex reacted.

> [CROW’S CODEX – UNLOCKED BY TETHERED NODE: “Kael”]

>

> Tether Connection Detected. Syncing...

> WARNING: Unstable Anchor Contact – Solar Flare Risk High

>

> The screen split, displaying two glyph-laced windows. On the left—Crow. On the right—him.

>

> His class flickered again.

> Infernal Striker → Sunborne Requiter → ???

>

> He growled under his breath, but his attention snapped back as new symbols formed over Crow’s profile.

>

> ----------------------------------------

>

> [Anchor Status: CROW]

>

> * Role: Eclipsed Anchor – Unauthorized Convergence

>

>

> * Tether Link: [Unstable with K. Kael]

>

>

> * Current Influence: 17% (Not Accepted)

>

>

> * Feral Suppression Active: Rowan Ashford (Stable)

>

>

> * Balance Level: 48% Celestial / 52% Void

> * Anchor Core Status: “UNSANCTIONED. NOT MEANT TO EXIST.”

>

>

>

> "She is the eclipse between the chosen lights. The stitch in the rift. The tether frays—if she breaks, they burn."

>

> “Anchor thread incomplete. Acceptance resisted. Solar flare imminent.”

He scowled, heart hammering in his chest. What the hell does that mean?

Before he could even ask the question, more text began to appear—this time, labeled [OBSERVATIONAL DATA LOG: K. Kael – By Crow]

Wait. What?

----------------------------------------

> PRIVATE ANCHOR NOTES – UNLOCKED BY NODE SPIKE

>

> “I think I cursed him. I’ve always been a curse, I always will be.

>

> He’s right about me being a burden.

>

> I won’t bother trying to be his friend.

>

> He hates me, I don’t even know what I did.

>

> That gold mana was consuming him, I wanted to help. He didn’t need it.”

>

> “Don't interact. Don’t let him see you weak.

> If he sees the cracks, he’ll hate you more.

> If he sees what you care for, he’ll burn it out of spite.”

>

> “He needs someone who steadies him, not someone who shatters when he yells.”

----------------------------------------

Kael's breath caught.

She had written this. Or… thought it. The Codex pulled it from her like a journal she never meant to show.

He continued to read it, guilt devouring him.

> [Projected Class Interaction – Warning: Class Overlap Detected]

>

> * Class: Eclipsed Sentinel

>

>

>

> * Class: Sunborne Requiter

>

>

>

> * Interaction: Dangerous without Stabilized Link

>

>

>

> * Result: Risk of uncontrolled flare. Loss of conscious identity. Solar corruption event.

>

> “The flames surge unchecked.

> The Anchor must learn to soothe the blaze, not suppress it.

> If the fire burns without restraint, the tether will break.

> If the tether breaks, the sun consumes the self.”

>

>

----------------------------------------

Kael stepped back, his hands clenched into fists. No. This isn't real. This isn’t happening.

And yet…

The Codex flared once more.

----------------------------------------

> [Final Alert – PRIVATE TO TETHERED: Kael]

>

> “You were never meant to bear it alone.”

> “The Anchor ran, but she looked back.”

> “Will you accept the tether… or will you choose to burn alone?”

>

> ----------------------------------------

>

> The screen went dark. Just for a second.

>

> Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

> Then blinked back on—one simple phrase etched in gold-violet:

>

> THE FIRE CALLS. THE ECLIPSE WAITS.

----------------------------------------

Kael was still for a long time, unsure of what to do. How to make sense of what he just read.

How could someone like her be whatever the hell an ‘Anchor’ was supposed to be?

He looked at the codex again, the screen dark now. He carefully picks it up, pushing it into his pocket and putting his own back on his belt.

“If he sees the cracks, he’ll hate you more.”

Was he really that much of an asshole?

He stood, the fire still flaring in his veins, and he went to his room. He didn’t know what else to do. Would apologizing even help?

He ducked out the window in his room, pulling himself onto the roof. It was always the best place to hide when he needed to think.

Apparently, tonight, he wasn’t the only one who thought that. Whoever it was had their head resting on their knees, sitting so still they could have been a statue.

“Oi!” he growled, “Get your own–”

When a pair of glowing violet eyes met his own, his voice died in his throat. After a few blinks, they dulled, unreadable in the dark.

“I’ll go,” Crow’s voice almost disappeared in the wind, “I just thought it was a quiet place to sit.” She stood, walking in his direction.

“I don’t know why I lost it. I just—everything got loud. Hot. You were there and I thought it was your fault, but it wasn’t,” the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Don't interact. Don’t let him see you weak.

The words flashed through his mind, rage bubbling under the surface. He didn’t want to care, but it bothered him.

She stiffened, not looking his way.

“Doesn’t matter. You were right. I’m a liability to you.”

Instead of moving any closer to him, she jumped off the damn roof.

He couldn’t see where she went. She was too good at disappearing.

----------------------------------------

> The world was hazy as he tried to open his eyes. It was quiet.

>

> Too quiet. To still.

>

> Only the soft hum of mana broke the silence—gentle, like wind through tall grass.

>

> He blinked against the light—warm and golden, but not the kind that burns. It flickered like candlelight, dancing in spirals overhead. His muscles ached, familiar and raw, but he didn’t jolt upright. He couldn’t. Something was keeping him grounded.

>

> Glancing around, he realized he was in some kind of infirmary, though eerie symbols of the Eternal Spark loomed over him like silent watchers. He looked down—his clothes were unfamiliar.

>

> Then—

>

> Footsteps. Soft. Measured. Not boots—slippers, maybe. He shifts his gaze toward the sound and—

>

> Crow.

>

> But not the girl he met.

>

> She moved like a dream someone had tried to paint too perfectly. A flowy, pale blue dress caught the light with every step, rippling like water. Her hair was brushed back neatly, out of her face, and there was a softness to her he’d never seen before.

> No smudges of ash. No gear strapped to her belt. No wild grin or calloused hands.

>

> A silver locket hangs around her neck, and just beneath it, resting against her sternum, is the unmistakable sigil of the Church. A holy symbol. Polished. Reverent.

>

> She kneels beside him, skirts pooling around her like clouds.

>

> “You’re not supposed to leave without me,” she murmurs, like it’s something they’ve said before. Like it’s a rule. There was something in her gaze, something too soft for a girl who claimed to eat monsters to survive.

>

> Her fingers hover just above his skin—hesitant, reverent—and then begin to glow. Not the harsh, radiant light he woke up to a week ago. No. Her mana is blue. Soft. Twinkling like stars in the deepest part of the sky. It brushes against his wounds like a lullaby.

>

> “You got hurt pretty bad again,” she fusses gently. “You promised to be careful.”

>

> He grunted, voice rough but not biting. “Was too dangerous to have you there.”

>

> What was he saying?

>

> Her eyes narrow. “I can use a sword, Katsuki. And barriers. I wouldn’t get in your way.”

>

> Katsuki?

>

> “You’re not ready,” he mutters, even though it tastes like a lie.

>

> She frowned. That look—stubborn, sharp, fire hidden behind velvet—slipped onto her face. The only trace of the girl he remembered.

>

> “You don’t get to decide that. We’re partners. You might not like it, but the prophecy says I’m supposed to watch over you. I’m a warden for a reason.”

>

> Partners? Prophecy?

>

> Her voice was proud, almost annoyed—but beneath it, something trembled. Fear. Desperation.

>

> He watched her work—hands moving with practiced grace, barely touching him, though every touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. She holds herself like a noblewoman, like a priestess carved from moonlight. Not like the girl who trips over crates and fights over sweets.

>

> And then her voice dips into something quieter. Something real.

>

> “I hate the monastery,” she confessed, tracing a sigil along his arm with a finger. The glow shifted from soft blue to burning gold before fading.“One more sermon about the Great Coming and I’ll chase after you anyway.”

>

> He snorted. “You’re being dramatic.”

>

> “I’m being serious.” She met his gaze, unflinching. “I know you think I don’t belong out there. But I’m suffocating here. I want to choose what I fight for. Not what they wrote down in some scroll.”

>

> His hand moved before he could think—calloused fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was soft. Her cheeks warmed at the touch.

>

> “I’ll let you come next time,” he said, voice low. Quieter than he usually allowed himself to be. “But don’t get in my way. I mean it.”

>

> She smiled then. Really smiled. Not the polite, practiced kind nobles give.

> Something crooked. Something alive.

>

> That’s who she’s supposed to be. That’s who he’d seen with Myra and Garran, laughing.

>

> “Yes, Captain,” she whispered, then mock-saluted him. “But I have to go. I’m supposed to have tea with the Third Prince. Again.”

>

> She looked irritated by that, like she’d rather sit on this dusty floor next to him than indulge in royal sweets.

>

> Something cold stirred in his chest. He didn’t speak it. Just patted her hand—the only thing he could do without breaking the moment.

>

> “Fly off, little bird,” he muttered.

>

> She paused as she stood, fingers brushing his one last time. The look she gave him made his chest squeeze.

>

> “I’ll be back,” she said. “You better keep your promise.”

>

> And then she turned.

>

> Walking away with a grace he’d never seen before.

----------------------------------------

Kael bolted upright, lungs burning like he’d been holding his breath for hours. A cold sweat trickled down his spine.

What the fuck was that?

Whatever it was, he wanted to forget. She’d been too soft. Too gentle. And the look she gave him? It made his heart twist in a way he didn’t like. At all.

He needed to move. Shake it off.

By the time he reached the training field, the sky was still dark, clouds rolling low.

Duskbane stood in the hallway outside the yard, cloak drawn high against the morning chill, eyes scanning over a weathered notebook stuffed with loose pages.

Kael approached, jaw tight, the night’s memory still clawing at the back of his mind.

“She’s not here,” he says, scanning the field.

“She will be,” Duskbane replied without looking up.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and unfinished—until the gate creaked open.

Crow stepped through, hood low, shoulders hunched like she’d fought her way through the morning. There was a slight hitch in her gait. Even from a distance, her hands looked raw—knuckles swollen, fingertips faintly scorched like she’d been casting without control or a focus.

“At least she looks like a real person,” Kael thought. “Not whatever that was.”

She didn’t speak. Just moved past them both and unclasped her cloak beside the sparring circle. She rolled out her wrists like she hadn’t spent the night trying to break something.

Kael stared.

“Oi.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.

She lifted her head—barely. Hair clung to her face, damp from sweat or something worse. Her eyes were distant. Haunted. Like she wasn’t fully here yet.

His fingers curled. There was a faint tingle in his right hand—the exact spot she’d touched in the dream. The skin wasn’t burned, but it buzzed like a pressure point had been struck and hadn’t quite recovered.

He stepped closer. “What the hell happened to your hands?”

“Alchemy circle misfired,” she muttered. “Mana surge followed. Didn’t react well.”

Didn’t react well? She looked like she’d punched through stone.

Duskbane said nothing, but Kael could feel his gaze sharp on both of them.

Crow’s hands trembled slightly as she unraveled a strip of linen and began to bind her palm.

He remembered the delicate hands that brushed against him in the dream—gentle, careful. Like she was afraid of shattering something.

And now Crow is here, bleeding into bandages like nothing’s wrong.

“You’re late,” he said, but the edge was gone from his voice.

Crow shrugged. “Didn’t sleep.”

He just watched her work on wrapping her hands; wondering who she’d been before showing up here. What demons she carried.

And why, despite everything, she still showed up.

----------------------------------------

She doesn’t complain once.

Not when her stance slipped and he knocked the practice sword from her grip hard enough to make her flinch. Not when Duskbane handed her a mana-thread bracelet that detonated in silver light the moment she tried to regulate the flow. Not when the jagged silver light bolts through her wrist and palm.

She barely flinched—just reset. Breathed. Reset again. Like she was wrestling something burning under her skin.

Like she’s trying to keep it together and barely managing.

If he sees the cracks, he’ll hate you more.

He swallowed hard, watching her.

Duskbane was trying to teach her to activate a new skill—he didn’t catch the name—but it would disrupt a target’s mana and leave them vulnerable to her magic.

Her mana flared instead—strange, jagged runes etched themselves across her forearm in burning gold and a soft, familiar blue. What was meant to be a simple branding skill exploded, knocking Duskbane back three steps.

Crow staggered. Gasping. The air warped faintly around her, and the Codex Kael had returned, shimmering like it was trying to regulate something it didn’t understand anymore.

Kael moved before he thought—his hand closing around her wrist just before she dropped.

“You’re gonna pass out if you keep this up.”

Crow looked up at him, breath ragged. Her eyes shimmered too bright—rimmed in a dull silver glow that reminded him of a moonlit mirror. For a second, she didn’t look human.

Then she exhaled. And it was just her again.

Tired. Cracked at the edges.

“I have to,” she breathed in, “control my powers. Be stronger.”

Something in her voice made his chest twist again—not anger, but something quieter. Colder.

–Still he didn’t let go until she nodded. Until she stopped.

After that, Duskbane ended the training and said nothing. His eyes lingered on Crow as she stumbled toward the guild hall.