The voice stayed with him all morning, an echo just out of reach.Find the sealed door.It repeated in his thoughts like a whisper caught in the wind, quiet but impossible to ignore.
Finn noticed something was off halfway through breakfast. "You're eating your bread sideways," he pointed out. "That's a classic sign of distraction. Or madness. Could be both."
"I'm fine," Thalen muttered, though it was a poor lie.
The truth was, he'd hardly slept. Every creak of the dorm, every flicker of light through the curtains had felt like the voice was about to return. But it didn't — and that made him more uneasy.
Classes that morning blurred together. In Magical History, he caught himself staring at the great tapestry along the back wall. It showed the creation of the world, the rise of the dragonkin and shadow elves, the forging of the Accord. But in one darkened corner of the cloth was a faded figure — tall, crowned in light, wings unfurled like a storm. The label beneath it was so worn it was unreadable.
When the bell rang, Thalen lingered. "Professor Elom," he asked cautiously, "what's that figure in the corner? The one on the tapestry?"
The old elf paused in his packing, his long fingers tightening slightly on a stack of scrolls. "A forgotten piece of history," he said after a long moment. "Not one we teach here."
"Why not?"
"Because the Firstborn are gone, Aric. And it is better that way."
Thalen almost asked more, but Elom's gaze was sharp enough to cut stone. The conversation was over.
By the time Combat Arts began, a plan had started forming in Thalen's head. He didn't know what the sealed door was, or where to find it, but there was one place in the Academy that might hold answers — the lower floors of the Great Library.
Finn had told him once that the library was "bigger on the inside" and that the restricted floors were guarded by wards so strong "you'd probably set your hair on fire just looking at them funny."
That night, after curfew, Thalen decided to test the theory.
He moved quietly, careful not to wake Finn. The halls of the East Wing were lit by floating lanterns, each swaying gently as if in a wind he couldn't feel. Outside, rain had begun to fall again, pattering softly against the glass.
The Great Library stood at the heart of Aurelia, its tall spires cutting into the night sky. The main doors were unlocked — students often came here to study late — but the air inside felt different after dark. The usual warm candlelight had dimmed to a silvery glow, and the smell of parchment was sharper, older.
Thalen walked past rows of shelves until he reached the spiral staircase at the back. A sign in gold letters read:
Lower Levels — Faculty Permission Required
Beyond it, the stairs curled down into darkness. A shimmering ward of light floated across the entrance, runes shifting across its surface like water.
The voice spoke again.Step through.
Thalen hesitated. He could almost feel the heat of the magic from here, hear the faint hum like the air before a lightning strike. "If this burns me to ash," he muttered, "I'm going to be very annoyed."
He reached out. The moment his fingers touched the ward, it rippled — then dissolved. Just like that. No alarms, no fire, no pain.
The stairs below were narrow and cold, the air damp with the smell of stone that hadn't seen sunlight in centuries. At the bottom was a heavy iron door. It was bound with chains so black they seemed to drink in the light, and a single lock the size of his fist.
Runes were carved deep into the metal — but unlike the ones in class, these pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Open it, the voice urged.
Thalen reached for the lock… and a shadow detached itself from the wall.
"Enjoying your little midnight adventure?"
It was Serenya. She stood in the dim light, arms folded, silver eyes unreadable. "Do you have any idea what's behind that door?"
"No," Thalen admitted. "Do you?"
Her lips curved, but it wasn't quite a smile. "Enough to know you shouldn't open it. Not yet."
The voice in his head stirred angrily. She lies.
Serenya tilted her head, as if she'd heard something too. "You're already hearing it, aren't you?"
Before Thalen could respond, footsteps echoed from above — slow, deliberate, heavy.
Serenya's expression sharpened. "We have to go. Now."
They slipped away just as a tall figure in a dark robe appeared at the top of the stairs. Thalen caught only a glimpse — pale hands clasped behind his back, eyes like shards of glass — before Serenya pulled him into a side corridor.
When they finally stopped, Thalen's heart was pounding. "Who was that?"
"One of the faculty," Serenya said. "And if you value your life, you'll forget you saw him near that door."
But Thalen knew he wouldn't forget. And deep down, he suspected that whatever lay behind that door… was meant for him.