The morning bells rang across the academy, their chimes echoing through stone halls and tall towers. Students hurried along the courtyards, their chatter filling the crisp air. To everyone else, it was just another day of classes.
But to Elian, the world felt heavier.
The image from the night before—the woman with silver hair, her back pierced by an arrow, whispering words he couldn't hear—wouldn't leave his mind. Every time he blinked, he saw it again. Her pained smile. Her trembling hands as she held him close.
"Who was she…?" Elian muttered under his breath, gripping the strap of his satchel as he walked toward his class. His chest still burned faintly, as if the seal was alive beneath his skin.
In the Classroom
Instructor Ravel was already waiting, chalk in hand, diagrams of mana flow covering the board. He glanced at Elian as he entered, his sharp eyes narrowing.
"You look pale," Ravel said in his usual blunt tone.
"I'm fine," Elian replied quickly, though his voice betrayed a hint of unease.
Lyra, sitting two rows ahead, turned just enough to study him. Her violet eyes caught his, and for a moment she looked almost concerned—before flipping her hair with a small hmph and turning back.
Class began, with students practicing mana flow diagrams and spell inscriptions, but Elian's focus wavered. The more he tried to listen, the more the whisper from last night echoed in his ears.
Elian…
He clenched his fist. That wasn't a dream. I know it wasn't.
When the lecture finally ended, Elian didn't follow the others to lunch. Instead, he made his way to the Grand Library, a massive tower of ancient tomes and enchanted shelves that seemed to stretch forever upward.
The library was quiet, filled only with the scratching of quills and the faint rustle of turning pages. The air smelled of ink, parchment, and something faintly metallic—old magic lingering in the walls.
He moved between the towering shelves, his eyes scanning spines of dusty books: On Sealed Magic, Legends of the Fallen Angels, The Great Demon Wars. His fingers hesitated on each, but none seemed to hold the answers he wanted.
"Looking for something?"
Elian froze. Lyra was standing at the end of the aisle, her arms crossed, her expression caught between curiosity and suspicion.
"You again…" Elian muttered. "Don't tell me you followed me."
"Hah," she scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I come here often. Unlike some people, I actually study."
She walked closer, her eyes narrowing. "But… you're different today. What's wrong with you?"
Elian hesitated. Part of him wanted to brush her off. But another part—the part weighed down by the vision of the silver-haired woman—wanted to say it aloud.
"I… saw something last night," he admitted quietly. "A woman. Hurt… but smiling. She called my name."
Lyra blinked, her brows furrowing. "A vision?"
"I don't know," Elian said, shaking his head. "But it felt real. Too real."
For a moment, Lyra's sharpness faded, replaced by something softer. But then she crossed her arms again, hiding it. "Dreams don't mean much. You probably just overused your mana yesterday."
"Maybe…" Elian murmured, but his voice lacked conviction.
The Whisper Returns
As he reached for another book, his hand froze midair.
A sudden pressure pressed against his chest. His breath caught.
And then he heard it again.
"Elian…"
The voice was faint, distant, but it echoed inside his very bones. His knees buckled slightly, and Lyra grabbed his arm before he could fall.
"Elian! What's wrong?!" she snapped, alarmed.
His vision blurred, and for a split second, the library around him melted away.
He was standing in a forest. Moonlight spilled across the trees, and in front of him stood the same silver-haired woman—blood staining her white dress, an arrow lodged in her back. She looked right at him, eyes filled with love and sorrow.
"Forgive me… my child…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "You must live…"
Her image flickered, like smoke in the wind, before disappearing.
In the Library.
"Elian!" Lyra's voice snapped him back. He stumbled, gasping, clutching his chest. The seal pulsed faintly, black and white wings glowing beneath his shirt.
Lyra's eyes widened. "What was that…?"
Elian's hands trembled. He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Who… was that woman?"
~Beyond the Academy
Far away, in the throne halls of demons and angels, whispers stirred again. The flicker of the seal's light had not gone unnoticed.
The Demon King's brother, sitting on his stolen throne, narrowed his crimson eyes. "So… the child still lives."
High above, in the courts of the gods, the Archangels spoke in hushed voices. "The cursed one awakens. He must not be allowed to rise."
And in the academy, Elian stared at his trembling hands, questions burning in his heart.