Nora stepped forward with an effortless air of command. His presence filled the hall. As his gaze swept over the students, the murmurs faded into an uneasy silence.

  "Today's topic," he began in a deep, deliberate voice, "is one that would normally not be revealed to you until later in your studies." His eyes flicked briefly toward Professor Jade. "However, due to recent incidents inside and outside the academy, the faculty has deemed it necessary to advance certain teachings."

  He clasped his hands behind his back, and the calm in his voice sharpened. "We believe it is time for you to learn about the power of words and the burden they place on the world and on the body that wields them."

  A stunned silence gripped the room before hushed whispers began to ripple through the rows. Kael felt his pulse quicken. Whatever trace of boredom he’d brought with him was gone.

  "Silence," Professor Jade snapped, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. The sound of her heels striking the floor echoed in the quiet. "This subject is dangerous. It is highly valuable and should not be shared with others. Anyone who cannot grasp the gravity of that is free to leave. Immediately.”

  The air thickened with fear and fascination alike. Not a single student moved.

  Professor Nora nodded approvingly, stepped down from the podium, and walked toward the first row. His gaze lingered on the wide-eyed, curious, and tense faces before him.

  "Using words," Professor Nora began in a calm but resonant voice, "is one of the most dangerous acts a person can commit. Not only to those nearby, but to the world itself.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Disasters born from words are rarely understood and never predictable. That is what most people believe when they hear the term 'Power of Words.'”

  His expression softened slightly, though the gravity in his tone remained. "This power is not only a curse. It is also creation. It can build, shape, and reveal beauty beyond human imagination. It lets you witness truths you would otherwise never grasp."

  He fell silent again, his gaze distant and almost haunted. "And yet..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "The same power can unmake all that exists. It can twist reason and unravel life itself. It can turn the very laws of nature into chaos."

  He turned back to the students, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "Understand this: Words grant power. But they do not choose their purpose. You do."

  The hall remained utterly still. Every student, Kael included, hung on his every word, unable to breathe as if the room itself feared interruption.

  Nora’s tone hardened. "Whether you speak to create or to destroy, the outcome may differ." He raised a finger slowly. "But the price is always the same."

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  He let the silence stretch before speaking again, his voice quieter but more chilling. "No matter if you ignite a candle or summon an inferno, the backlash will always come back to you."

  "Every word carries a price," said Professor Nora in a measured yet sharp tone. "Each one has its own backlash. They differ in form, but they are always haunting. These backlashes exist for one purpose: to remind you that this power is not meant to be used on a whim.”

  He let his gaze sweep over the rows of students, his eyes steady and searching. "Still," he continued in a lowered voice, "there are ways to endure them. Ancient methods that have been forgotten by most and are forbidden to all but those whose minds and bodies remain unshaken."

  He folded his hands behind his back and began to pace, his steps deliberate. "You’ve already tasted a fraction of what happens when balance fails you," he said quietly. “The mind traps in the Labyrinth were no mere test. They were a reflection of the very danger you now face when your memories, emotions, or fears outweigh your reason."

  A ripple of unease passed through the hall.

  Nora turned and walked to the desk at the center of the podium. He reached beneath it and lifted a vessel: a pale stone vase, its surface cracked with age and inscribed with faint runes that shimmered in the dim light.

  "This," he said, setting it gently on the table, "will serve as a demonstration."

  The room fell utterly still.

  "I will show you what it means to speak a Word and the mark it leaves behind." His eyes flicked toward the students. "Do not be afraid. You will not be harmed. This is only a controlled invocation."

  Professor Jade, who had remained silent the entire time, observed with a faint, knowing smile. It was the expression of someone who had experienced this before and remembered its beauty and danger alike.

  Nora took a slow breath and closed his eyes. The air grew heavy and vibrated faintly, as if reality held its breath.

  Then, he whispered a single word.

  No one could understand it. Not even Kael, who felt the sound more than heard it. The word resonated through the hall, ancient and alive, threading through the bones of everyone present.

  A soft light ignited along the mark on Nora’s right hand. Gold lines spread from his palm, curling up his wrist in intricate patterns that glowed like molten script.

  The light in the hall bent and flickered. A low hum vibrated through the students' bones, and the vase began to glow, faintly at first and then brighter, as if waking from centuries of sleep. Wisps of gold rose from its surface and twisted into the outline of a woman.

  Her form shimmered, translucent yet impossibly vivid. In a small room of fading sunlight, an old woman sat, fragile and graceful, clutching the same vase gently in her frail hands.

  Kael’s breath caught.

  "This," the old woman began in a tender, trembling voice, "is my final wish, my dear child." Her fingers brushed the vase, her thumb tracing its cracks as if to memorize them. "When I am gone, scatter my ashes into this vessel. Carry it to the mountain where the wind never rests and set me free.”

  A muffled, childlike voice broke the stillness. “Grandma, please! I can’t do this without you!”

  The old woman smiled, a quiet, weary smile filled with love. She reached out, her ghostly hand lifting toward where the child’s face would be. Yet her touch fell only upon air.

  “Don’t cry,” she whispered. "You'll never be without me. Wherever this vase rests, I’ll be there.”

  Her image flickered. The golden light dimmed and dissolved into tiny motes that drifted upward and vanished. The vase was lifeless again, but it felt alive, humming faintly with something unseen.

  No one spoke. The silence in the hall was almost sacred.

  Kael stared at the empty spot where she had been. His throat tightened, and before he knew why, a tear fell from his cheek. It wasn’t just grief that filled him. It was something older and deeper. It was a longing that wasn’t his, yet it felt entirely his own.

  Embarrassed, he wiped his face. Yet beneath the ache, wonder bloomed. If a single word could do this, what else could they do?