The bell of the Academy rang at dusk.
But this time… it shattered.
A deep, haunting chime echoed through the halls of Nocturnum, followed by the sound of stone cracking and metal groaning.
Students froze.
Professors dropped their quills. In the east wing, lanterns dimmed.
Noir had just returned from the Graveyard Arena, the glyph "Collapse" still faintly burning on his skin, when the sound reached him.
KRRAAK.
The tower above the Academy's bell chamber was ruptured—veins of shadow leaking down its sides like bleeding ink.
The bell hadn't been broken by force.
It had been corrupted.
Selis appeared at his side, eyes wide.
"That's the Sealing Bell," she whispered. "It binds the deeper wards of the Academy."
Noir stared upward.
The sky pulsed faintly violet.
Something was wrong.
Within minutes, an emergency glyph assembly was called.
Professors and senior students gathered in the Atrium of Gears, the central nexus of the Academy.
Noir stood at the edges, watching.
Dean Marthis stood at the center, his face drawn, voice grave.
"The bell has been marked by an external glyph," he said.
"Something ancient.
From the Outer Reaches."
Murmurs erupted.
Noir's book pulsed.
A whisper: "Return to me."
He clenched his jaw.
Professor Thale turned toward the students. "We have reason to believe someone opened a glyph gate beneath the east archives."
Noir flinched.
That's where he was… days ago.
"Because of this breach," Marthis continued, "you are all confined to the western quadrant.
Only verified professors may enter the eastern halls until the glyph is cleansed."
Then he added: "One more thing. The intruder left a mark."
A projection glyph activated—showing a massive sigil burned into the stone floor: an eye made of fangs and chains.
Selis gasped.
"That's from the Void Doctrine," she said. "A forbidden cult."
Noir turned pale. He had seen that eye… in his dreams.
That night, Noir couldn't sleep.
He returned to the rooftop garden, where the shadows whispered more clearly.
The Book opened on its own, pages fluttering to a sealed glyph.
"Echoform."
He reached for it—but the glyph resisted.
"Not yet," the Book whispered.
"Only when you face yourself again."
Suddenly, a ripple in the shadow behind him. He turned—glyphs glowing.
A masked figure stood on the roof, wrapped in silver-trimmed robes.
Their voice was distorted.
"You carry the Book. You've opened glyphs that should have stayed buried."
Noir stepped back.
"Who are you?"
The figure raised a staff made of bone and crystal.
"I am a Warden of the Fold.
And your shadow… is leaking."
They attacked.
Noir dove backward, activating "Split" and "Invert" glyphs simultaneously—deflecting the first barrage of mirror-shards.
But the Warden was fast.
Too fast.
Glyph: "Anchor."
Gravity surged beneath Noir, freezing his movement mid-jump.
He landed hard, shoulder-first. Pain shot through him.
The Book flickered.
Glyph: "Reshape."
A wave of obsidian rose from the garden stones, shielding him.
Noir rolled back up, panting.
"You want the Book?" he said. "You'll have to rip it from me."
The Warden paused.
"We don't want the Book.
We want to stop what it's becoming."
A silence stretched between them.
Then the figure vanished in a burst of light.
Noir stood in the silence of the ruined rooftop garden, the broken bell echoing faintly in the distance.
And somewhere beneath the Academy… something had awakened.