Midnight.
The Arcanum Academy slept beneath a veil of moonlight and cold mist. Silver runes pulsed faintly on tower walls. Magical wards shimmered like breath in the air.
But Aedric was awake.
He wandered the hidden halls beneath the Academy—passages only highborn heirs were permitted to access. Yet he remembered this place not because of privilege...
...but because of a death.
> She died here. Chained to prophecy. Forgotten by fate.
> Not this time.
He stopped before a heavy iron door marked with a cursed sigil — a ward that screamed in pain if touched by the unworthy.
He raised his hand. The black flame flickered over his palm, and the sigil recoiled.
The door swung open.
Inside, the chamber was dark... except for one faint, purple glow. A runic cage in the center. Ancient. Cruel. Glowing with binding spells older than kingdoms.
And within it… she sat.
---
Her hair was silver-white, glowing faintly in the dark. Her skin — pale as bone. Her eyes… closed.
She was barefoot. Wrapped in rags. Arms chained to runes carved into the stone floor. She didn't even lift her head as he entered.
But then she spoke.
"You're not the one who feeds me."
Her voice was soft. Musical. Hollow.
"You're not afraid. Interesting."
Aedric stepped closer.
"I'm not here to feed you. I'm here to free you."
She opened her eyes.
They glowed violet. A swirl of galaxies. Of fates untold.
Aedric's breath caught in his throat.
So this was her… Lyara Nox. The girl cursed with vision. Hunted by the gods. Locked away for fear of what she might become.
In the past… he had ignored her. She died nameless, chained until her magic consumed her.
But now? She was a key.
"Free me?" she whispered. "You don't even know what I am."
"I know you see the threads of fate."
Lyara blinked. "You… see them too?"
Aedric said nothing. But the black flame appeared over his palm again — only for a moment.
Her lips parted.
"You're not just reborn," she whispered. "You've defied the cycle."
She laughed — a soft, broken sound. "They'll come for you, you know."
"They already did," he replied. "Now it's my turn."
---
He knelt beside the runic cage and traced the circle of power.
Ancient glyphs glowed red.
"This binding was designed to suppress divine bloodlines," he muttered.
She tilted her head. "You can read it?"
"I burned in it," he whispered. "I remember every symbol."
Lyara stared at him, stunned.
"Why?" she asked. "Why help me?"
Aedric looked up at her.
"Because I remember your death."
She fell silent.
And then, she whispered: "Then don't make me regret living."
---
With one breath, Aedric summoned the black flame — not wild, not destructive — but focused, weaving through the glyphs like a serpent.
The runes screamed. The floor cracked.
And the chains… shattered.
Lyara collapsed into his arms.
She was shaking. Her body was light as smoke.
She looked up at him, tears forming. "You're not real."
"I am," he said. "And I'll burn the heavens before I let them cage you again."
---
Above them, far above the chamber… a figure in silver robes opened his eyes in the royal observatory.
Prince Caelen.
He turned toward the spire of the academy.
"...So you found her already, little brother."
He smiled.
Let the game begin.
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