Four years of training shaped him into a weapon. Now, the world begins to shift—and Kite steps into its storm.
---
January 12, 1522
Eastern Operational STF Headquarters, Ulvenesia
Kite…
Kite…
"Kite!"
He jolted awake at the sharp voice. Blinking quickly, he found himself in a hallway chair—head tilted back, eyes crusted from a nap he hadn't meant to take. Standing before him was Rapha Maer, a fox beastfolk and the Eastern Director's secretary.
"I'm up, I'm up!" Kite mumbled, sitting up straighter.
Rapha crossed her arms. "You're dreaming again. It's been four years since you joined the Secret Stormwatch Academy—I expected more alertness from a graduate."
Kite rubbed the back of his neck, flashing a sheepish smile. Time had changed him. His blue eyes were calm now, matured. He was taller, stronger. He had grown his hair to a medium length black hair, slicked back on the side giving a tidy appearance, with slightly overgrown messy bangs parted in the middle and complementary blue eyes.
"My bad, Mrs. Maer. I take it the Director is ready for me?"
Rapha gave a simple nod, though her expression softened. No matter how serious she tried to look, her fondness for him always peeked through. Afterall she always have soft spot for children.
---
May 1, 1518
Four Years Ago
"I thought this was supposed to be the final batch of recruits we will take children," said Rapha Maer, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was younger then, her long orange hair pulled back in a strict braid, fox ears twitching with frustration.
"And here you are, bringing in another one, Director?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what I said," Henrik replied with a shrug. "But you've seen the reports. This kid's different—he could be a real asset."
"He's ten, Henrik. Ten."
"It's the last batch anyway. What's one more? He has potential."
It had taken time—and a lot of persuasion—but eventually, Rapha gave in.
And so, Kite was sent to the Stormwatch Academy.
---
Present Day
Kite smiled faintly at the memory.
"What are you smiling about?" Rapha snapped, shaking her head. "Go. He's waiting."
"Oh—right. Sorry."
He stepped into the parlour.
"May I come in?"
"Kite! Of course. Come in, come in."
Henrik sat on a plush sofa, arms resting comfortably on the sides. Kite approached and sat across from him after a small gesture of approval.
"Time flies, doesn't it?" Henrik mused. "Four years. You've grown into a proper young man. You're starting to look like your father at your age."
Kite nodded, calm and poised. "Stormwatch was intense, but I needed it. I've learned how the STF works, and how the world really operates. I can control Flashlight at 45% now."
Henrik raised an eyebrow. "That's real progress. But now we move to the next phase."
Kite sat up straighter. He could feel the weight of what was coming.
"Next month, Lord Seraphielthor Ashvale will be ready to leave."
Kite's eyes widened. He knew that name. Everyone in STF did.
"We trained you for this," Henrik said. "We believe you could be a companion to the Lord. From what we know, he's a lone wolf—prefers to act alone, trusts few."
"I understand…"
Henrik stood, his expression serious.
"For now, you'll go to our Carynthos facility—the City of Gold. Stay there until we disclose the Lord's location. It's confidential, even to you."
"I'll leave as soon as possible," Kite said without hesitation, rising to his feet.