A cold wind blew through the corridor even though the windows were sealed shut.
Elle paused on the fourth floor of the East Wing, her eyes drawn to a door that didn't appear on her map. The corridor was empty. Silent. Unmapped.
The Hall of Forgotten Names, said the whisper in her mind.
She didn't remember hearing it. It simply was.
Her hand reached for the doorknob, though her body screamed to turn back. But ever since last night's vision—her own death, the academy burning, the boy with the black eyes smiling in the flames—her instincts hadn't been hers to trust.
The doorknob was ice-cold.
The door opened on its own.
The room beyond was unlike anything else in Aurelius. Black marble walls, glowing glyphs spiraled endlessly along the floor. At the center, a giant obsidian seal covered in chained runes pulsed like a heart.
She took one step in—and it pulsed again.
And then it spoke.
> "You carry the mark. The one who sees across lives. The one who binds me still."
Elle's pulse froze. "Who's there?"
Silence. Then—a flash.
Suddenly, she was not in her body.
Vision
She stood in a wasteland of fire and glass. Ash rained like snow. A tower, black and crumbling, loomed before her. On its throne sat a figure—
Eyes like coals smoldering in the dark.
Hair as black as the void itself.
Skin pale, marbled with faint glowing veins.
He was barefoot, clad in black robes that moved like living smoke. His presence suffocated reality.
> "So we meet again," he said. His voice rumbled through dimensions.
"Who are you?" Elle whispered.
He stepped off the throne.
> "In your first life, you called me salvation.
In the second, you feared me.
In the third—you sealed me.
And now, you've set me free."
His hand reached for her, not to harm her—but to remember her.
> "My name is Vaeloren Vireth. I am the King of the Ninth Veil. And your fate is mine.
She fell back into her body with a cry, heart hammering.
The obsidian seal had shattered.
A crack split the floor like a vein of void light.
And from within, something ancient stirred.
A mist poured out—thick, black, heavy. The room darkened as a shadow rose.
A figure emerged from the smoke. Not monstrous. Not skeletal. But inhuman in a way that transcended comprehension.
Tall, graceful, shirtless beneath long robes of black and silver, with runes etched into his skin like scars. Eyes like endless night.
He looked down at Elle.
She couldn't move.
"Your soul still sings the same," he murmured. "Even after four lifetimes."
She backed away, breath shallow. "You're—Vaeloren."
He tilted his head. "You remember?"
"No," she breathed. "But I saw you. In a vision."
He stepped closer, and the very air obeyed him. "You did more than see me. You locked me in this prison for over four centuries. And now… you've opened the door."
His voice wrapped around her like velvet and chains.
The door slammed open behind her.
"Get away from her!" shouted a voice.
Sora.
She hurled a blast of radiant force, white as a star. It passed through Vaeloren like mist.
He didn't flinch.
"Brave," he said, eyes on Sora now. "But naive."
"Elle," Sora hissed, grabbing her arm. "Run!"
But Elle couldn't. Something in her had already shifted.
The seal was broken.
And the King of Hell was awake.
They escaped the hall—barely. Sora dragged her through twisting staircases until the mist was behind them.
"What the hell was that?" Sora gasped, locking the door to their room with six glyphs.
Elle stared at the floor. "His name is Vaeloren Vireth."
Sora froze. "No."
"You know him?" Elle whispered.
Sora's eyes were wide. "He's not supposed to exist anymore. He was erased from records, from memories, from time itself. They say he was sealed beneath Aurelius before the school was ever founded."
Elle whispered, "Why?"
Sora swallowed. "Because he isn't just a demon king. He's the one who once shattered the wall between the realms. His power almost ended the human world. It took an entire generation of Seers to imprison him."
Elle stared at her trembling hands.
Sora turned to her slowly.
"You said you saw him in a vision?"
"I did."
"And?"
"And… I don't think he wants to destroy the world."
Sora looked at her like she was mad.
Elle added quietly, "I think he wants to rewrite it."
That night, as stars wheeled silently above Aurelius, Elle sat at the windowsill, eyes fixed on the moon.
And in the shadows of the forest beyond the academy gates, something watched her back.
A whisper reached her ear from the wind.
"I remember the taste of your soul."
And then silence.
Elle didn't sleep.
Not really.
She drifted between waking and dreaming, between memory and something deeper—older.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.
Vaeloren Vireth.
Not just in shadow or flame, not as the terrifying King she'd seen rise from the seal—but as something more human. More intimate.
He stood at the edge of her dreamscapes, silent, watching.
And each time, he stepped a little closer.
Morning at Aurelius was always deceptive—sunlight filtered through magic-forged stained glass, soft music hummed through the air, and flowers that didn't exist in any known world bloomed along the corridor walls.
But Elle couldn't shake the cold threading her spine.
She'd barely spoken to Sora all morning. Her roommate had cast protective glyphs around their dorm, re-checked them twice, then stormed off to the Oracle Archives without saying goodbye.
Elle understood. Sora wasn't angry—just scared.
So was Elle.
Because something about Vaeloren wasn't just dangerous. It was familiar.
West Wing
Elle slid a book off a shelf older than the country itself. The pages whispered as she turned them, revealing hand-inked maps and sigils.
She wasn't the only one searching.
The academy was on edge.
Students whispered about the "surge" last night—those sensitive to magic had felt it. Shadowborns hadn't slept. Lightbinders had fainted. One pyromancer in Class Omega claimed he heard his dead mother's voice.
But Elle wasn't trying to prove Vaeloren was real.
She was trying to prove she wasn't.
Not entirely.
Her hands froze on a page inked in faded gold:
"The Mark of the Dream-Blooded."
It was a brief passage—hardly a paragraph.
"Some Seers are not born of this age. Dream-Blooded, they are called—echoes of forgotten time who carry visions not of the future... but of past lives."
"They are not merely prophets. They are keys."
The glyph on the page matched the one that sometimes glowed behind Elle's left shoulder blade in her dreams—three interwoven circles and a single drop.
She touched the page. It burned slightly.
That was when the voice returned.
"You are beginning to remember."
Elle spun around.
He was not there.
But the mirror in the corner shimmered.
And for a heartbeat, she saw his reflection.
Vaeloren—shirtless, glowing runes carved into his chest, eyes burning like twin eclipses. He said nothing. Just stared at her through the mirror like he could step through if he wanted.
She clenched her fists.
"You're haunting me."
> "You are haunting yourself."
The mirror returned to normal.
Later That Day: Grand Arena
Professor Raine, a half-fae weapons mistress, summoned the students into formation on the dueling floor. Elle stood between Sora and Riven—one of the top-ranked third-years, a Voidwalker with an attitude.
Riven glanced at her. "You look like death."
Sora elbowed him. "Shut it."
"I'm just saying. She looks like she tangled with a banshee in heat."
"I said, shut it."
"Is she okay?"
"I'll tell you where my fist is going next—"
"Alright, children," Professor Raine snapped, her silver staff sparking. "Time for today's pairings. Elemental duels. Magic only. No claws, fangs, or necromantic cheating."
The crowd groaned.
Raine's eyes scanned her list.
"Elle Nightshade," she said sharply.
Elle straightened. "Yes, Professor."
"Your opponent—" A pause. A smile. "—is a new arrival."
The double doors creaked open.
Everyone turned.
The student who entered wasn't just new. He was impossible.
He was tall. Quiet. Cloaked in crimson with silver-threaded lining. A sigil hovered over his head that none of them had ever seen—an ancient character in a language even Raine seemed to squint at.
He pulled down his hood.
The air changed.
He was inhumanly beautiful. Silver hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes shimmered like cracked moonstone—half white, half shadow.
Elle froze.
She had seen those eyes in her visions.
Gasps rippled through the arena.
Riven cursed. "Is that a freaking… Moon-Forged?"
Sora looked sick. "Worse."
Professor Raine's tone darkened. "This is Luceris Varenth. A Bloodless Shade from the House of Dusk. He is here by special request of the Oracle. You will treat him with respect—or lose more than your grade."
Elle could feel it.
Magic. Ancient, thick, regal.
Luceris bowed slightly to her. "I have heard of you, Elle Revane. The girl who sees the broken lines of fate."
His voice was melodic. Cold as nightfall. Curious, but not cruel.
Elle bowed back. "And I've seen you... in my dreams."
Luceris didn't even flinch.
The arena shifted. A new platform rose, glowing with containment runes.
Luceris floated into place.
Elle followed slowly.
"Begin!" Raine shouted.
Luceris raised his hand—and the shadows obeyed.
Black vines burst from the floor.
Elle raised her arms, summoning light from her palms—pure Seer's flare, blinding and rare. The vines recoiled.
But Luceris only smiled.
"Clever," he said, almost admiringly. "You inherited more than Sight."
He conjured a thousand shards of light from nothing—each one humming with necromantic poison. They hovered midair, a deadly net.
Elle's breath caught.
But her visions triggered too late.
Suddenly, she was somewhere else.
Not on the battlefield. Not even in Aurelius.
She was—in the past.
Vision Within a Duel
A dark room. A battle. Screams.
Her own voice shouted, "Vaeloren, stop! You'll kill them!"
A man turned to her—Vaeloren, younger, less scarred, but still him. "They would've killed you."
His hands were drenched in red flame.
The room collapsed around them.
She tried to reach for him—
—and snapped back into her body just in time.
Luceris's attack had frozen midair.
He stood stunned, staring at her.
The whole arena had gone silent.
Because behind Elle… a shadow stood.
A tall, inhuman figure, eyes like molten onyx, watching her duel.
Vaeloren.
No one had summoned him.
No one knew how he got in.
But the barrier around the platform hadn't kept him out.
Luceris backed away slowly. Even he, noble of a forbidden house, showed deference.
Vaeloren said nothing to the crowd. His eyes stayed on Elle.
"You bleed from places no one else remembers," he said quietly. "They think this is your first life, but it is not. You've died to protect them before. How many times must you die again?"
Elle tried to speak—but Vaeloren vanished in smoke.
After the Duel
Professor Raine canceled all remaining matches. She looked visibly shaken.
Sora ran to Elle. "You okay?"
Elle nodded slowly, but her vision blurred.
Luceris stepped forward, this time truly curious. "That creature. He knows you intimately."
"He's not a creature," Elle said.
"Then what is he?"
Elle looked up at the blackened ceiling where smoke still lingered.
"He's the part of me I buried. And the part of me I still don't understand."
Luceris bowed. "Then I will watch you closely, Elle Nightshade."
That night, Elle's shoulder burned again.
She looked in the mirror.
The glyph had returned—glowing faint gold. Three circles, one drop.
And this time, it pulsed like a heart.