Kael Voss's eyes flew open.
His chest heaved rapidly, as though he had been sprinting for hours. He sat up so abruptly that the thin mattress on the bunk bed groaned in protest. The room was small and drab, with bare gray walls and a tiny high window that allowed only weak morning light to filter in. The air carried the stale scent of dust and aged timber.
An elderly man sat on a wooden chair beside the bed, observing him with steady, calm eyes.
"You alright, lad?" the old man asked, his voice rough yet kind.
Kael blinked several times and rubbed his face.
"Yeah… I think so."
He glanced around again, confusion etched across his features.
"Where am I?"
The old man offered a faint smile.
"No need to worry. You're in the Laborers' Quarter — the lowest level of the academy. This is where flameless students end up working now."
Kael's stomach sank.
"The Laborers' Quarter…? How did I get here?"
The old man rose slowly, his joints creaking.
"You ask too many questions," he said, turning toward the door. "When we were collecting the flameless ones after the ceremony, we found you unconscious behind the academy buildings. You were burning with fever, so we brought you here and gave you medicine."
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Is that enough explanation for you?"
Kael swallowed hard.
"Oh… yes. Thank you, sir. And I'm sorry for my rudeness."
The old man nodded.
"It's fine. Get up. Time to register. From today, this is your new reality."
Kael swung his legs off the bunk. They felt heavy, like they were made of lead.
As they walked down a dim, narrow corridor, the image of the dragon's massive red eye flashed through his mind once more — scales, flames, and heavy chains glowing with fire.
His steps faltered. His eyes widened.
The old man noticed.
"You okay, lad?"
Kael shook his head quickly, trying to dispel the vision.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."
"Then walk faster."
They entered a larger room lined with long wooden tables. A handful of older students sat there in plain gray work clothes. When they spotted Kael, whispers immediately broke out.
"Isn't that Kael Voss?"
"The one with no flame?"
"Even the Flame Sovereign's son ended up down here…"
The old man slammed his hand on the nearest table.
"Quiet, all of you!"
The room fell silent instantly.
He slid a worn register book across the table toward Kael.
"Write your name. From now on, you work with us. Clean floors, haul coal, repair whatever needs fixing. That's your life now."
Kael stared at the page. His hand trembled as he wrote his name in dark ink.
The old man watched him, his tone softening slightly.
"Don't look so defeated, lad. You'll get used to it. Some even say they prefer it down here."
Kael forced a weak smile. It faded the moment it appeared.
He finished signing and headed toward the exit.
The long hallway leading outside felt cold and echoing. His footsteps rang loudly off the walls.
Then — bump!
He collided directly with someone wearing a long brown cloak, the hood pulled low to conceal their face.
"Oh! I'm sorry," a soft, feminine voice said.
She quickly stepped around him and hurried down the corridor.
Kael blinked in surprise.
"Wait… a girl? What is a girl doing down here?"
He shook his head and continued walking.
An hour later, he stood before the imposing iron gates of Voss Estate.
The golden dragon statues flanking the entrance looked unchanged, yet everything felt wrong.
Two new guards in black armor blocked the path.
"Stop right there," one ordered harshly. "By command of the new Clan Head, Draven Voss, you are forbidden from entering this compound."
Kael froze.
"You've got to be joking… seriously?"
From the left side of the fence, near a cluster of trees, a familiar voice called out softly.
"Young Master Kael!"
Mr. Harlan stood there with several maids and housekeepers. They wore plain civilian clothes instead of their usual uniforms. Their eyes were red and swollen from crying. Some clutched small bags, as if they had been thrown out with their belongings.
Kael rushed over.
"Mr. Harlan! What happened? Why are you all out here? Where are your uniforms?"
Mr. Harlan's aged face was etched with deep sorrow.
"Young Master… Master Draven dismissed every one of us this morning. Anyone who was close to you had to leave. The estate now belongs only to the strong. Those without flame have no place inside."
Kael's heart seized.
"He… fired all of you? Because of me?"
The maids nodded, some weeping quietly.
One whispered, "He changed the locks and tossed our things into the street. He said the Voss clan has no room for weakness — or for anyone who supports weakness."
Kael looked up at the grand mansion.
On the top balcony, Draven Voss stood watching with his arms folded and a cold, satisfied smile on his face.
Kael remained standing in the biting wind, fists clenched tightly, his eyes burning with a mix of pain and rising fury.