The thunderous clang of the clocktower's midnight chimes reverberated through the barren hallways of Eldoria Academy. Shadows danced across the ancient stones, creeping upward alongside tapestries depicting long-forgotten mage wars. The rain fell softly outside — a rhythmic patter against leaded glass — adding to the feeling that something was profoundly, undeniably amiss.
Ezra Vale tightened his grip on the leather strap of his book bag, knuckles turning white underneath his fingerless mage's gloves. His pulse was already racing as he turned down the abandoned west corridor. His magic senses — normally calm and composed — were ringing alarm bells. The academy was a place of refuge and knowledge, a sanctuary for the brightest magical minds, yet something was very, very wrong.
He pressed his back against a column near the corner, peered forward, and held his breath. A shimmering aura glimmered faintly down the corridor — a manifestation of a powerful rune — then faltered and winked out. The moment it disappeared, a piercing silence fell.
"That shouldn't be there." Ezra whispered quietly. His grip tightened further, magic slowly coalescing at his fingertips in sparks of gold and purple — a defensive rune, just in case.
He darted forward, his stride careful and deliberate. His magic kept his senses heightened — every texture underfoot, every slight movement in the atmosphere — until he turned a corner and stumbled upon something he was not meant to see.
Master Felton Harper, his mentor and the academy's greatest mage, was suspended in mid-air, encased in shimmering rune chains. His body glowed faintly with power, his face a mask of agony. His piercing green eyes widened briefly when he noticed Ezra.
"Ezra… leave… now…" Felton whispered, his voice weak but firm.
Before Ezra could move, a blinding flash of purple-black magic enveloped Felton, sending shockwaves down the corridor. The rune chains shattered. Felton let out a piercing, soul-wrenching cry — then, in an instant, he was gone. His body, his magic, his very presence — erased, as if he had never existed.
The moment Felton disappeared, something fell to the stone floor — a small, rune-inscribed box. Ezra fell to his knees and turned it over in his hands. Inside, a shimmering artifact glimmered faintly — a piece of a greater magic that many said was a curse. His grip tightened, his mind battling disbelief. Felton Harper was gone. The artifact was missing from its resting place. And Ezra Vale was now a target — a key player in something much larger than he could comprehend.
He slipped the box into his pocket and turned back down the corridor, his pulse thumping in his ears. Whatever happened, he would uncover the truth — for Felton Harper, for Eldoria, and for magic itself.