"Memory is a prison when you can't forget the fire." – Seyon Amara
The Academy didn't sleep.
Even at night, its towers pulsed with soft magical energy, and the sky above was always a canvas of shifting stars. But in Seyon's dorm room, it was colder than usual.
She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers wrapped around the leather-bound magic studies journal she hadn't opened. Her violet eyes stared at the flame hovering above her palm — small, steady, and angry.
The scene earlier had changed everything.
Not because she won. But because of who stepped in.
Auron Kai.
Her AI. Her friend. Her only link to a past that the world had tried to erase.
Now human.
Now… real.
But what did that even mean?
He remembered everything. The betrayal. The explosion. Her final words.
Why did he survive, when she was the one who died?
"Seyon?" came a knock. Not Auron. Not Xian. A girl's voice — cheerful, with a slight stammer. Probably Mira, her roommate.
She extinguished the flame and stood. "Coming."
Mira blinked at her, then held out a small velvet box. "Uh, this came for you. No name. It just appeared on your desk while you were in training."
Seyon frowned, took it, and opened it slowly.
Inside was a phoenix feather, glowing faintly, and a piece of obsidian shaped like a crescent moon.
Her blood ran cold.
Only one person in her past life ever used obsidian marks as messages.
Dr. Vahl.
The man who killed her.
Her hands clenched. How…? Had the betrayal followed her even here?
Behind her, unseen, the shadows shifted near the window.
Xian Yoru was watching.
He always was.
The courtyard of Virelia Magic Academy buzzed with anticipation. Students in matching uniforms formed circles around the central dueling pit, whispering, mocking, or placing bets on who would fall first. A flare of magic crackled in the air—intense, restless.
Seyon stood at the edge, eyes narrowed.
Auron Kai, now fully flesh and blood, stood beside her, adjusting the settings of a magical wristband that measured mana flow. His expression was as calm as always, but his eyes scanned the crowd like a machine still running diagnostics.
"Your vitals are up," he said without looking at her. "Heart rate elevated, likely due to adrenaline or low-level anxiety."
"I'm about to be thrown into a gladiator match in front of magic-obsessed teenagers with superiority complexes," Seyon replied flatly. "Of course my vitals are up."
He raised an eyebrow. "You weren't this dramatic in your past life."
She snorted softly. "That girl died. Get used to the new version."
From across the field, Xian Yoru leaned against a stone pillar, his arms crossed, face unreadable. His pale blue eyes met hers for half a second.
Something in her stomach twisted.
---
Training Yard – Earlier that Day
Seyon adjusted the leather straps of her academy-issued gauntlets. The training yard hummed with low murmurs, other students scattered in pairs, sparring or stretching. Auron stood in front of her, his coat discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
"You're stiff again," he said, circling her. "Your left side. You always guard too high. Anticipating an attack that never comes."
She scowled. "You sound like my old training drone."
He smirked. "That's because I was your training drone."
She froze, mid-lunge. Her heartbeat skipped before catching up. "You… remember?"
He didn't meet her gaze. "I remember code. Equations. The way your voice used to dip when you were annoyed." He glanced at her hand. "And I remember that you never let go of a fight. Even when you were bleeding."
Seyon said nothing for a beat.
Then: "Do you remember how I died?"
The silence tightened.
Auron's jaw clenched. "Yes."
"And?"
He looked at her now — not with warmth, but with conviction . "You shouldn't have. But I made sure that if there was even a 0.1% chance you'd come back… I'd find you."
Her throat felt tight. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't built to forget you."
For the first time since waking up in this world, Seyon didn't know what to say.
And then the bell rang. Time for the arena trials.
---
Back in the present, the announcer's voice boomed: "Round One! Flareborn versus Arvid of Stormhall!"
Seyon stepped into the circle.
Arvid smirked. He was tall, blond, and already summoning lightning between his fingers.
"This won't take long," he sneered.
Seyon rolled her shoulders.
"Good. I hate long speeches."
The bell rang.
Flames answered her call.