The skies above Cyralis Academy rippled with distortion as if the world itself had taken a breath and held it.
Thunder rumbled. Not from storm clouds—but from the magic that coiled through the air like a living beast. Students, professors, and guards alike stood frozen, gazing at the glowing tower known as the Vault of Forgotten Flames. Never in its thousand-year history had any book within it called out on its own. Until now.
And that book bore the name Aerion Thorne.
Eliar stood at the gate to the Academy, flanked by Selene and Vael'thar. He was no longer in bandages, but the scars beneath his shirt still ached. Not just from wounds—but from the truth clawing at the edge of his reality.
Thorne.
That word had meant nothing to him until now. But suddenly, it felt like a key unlocking every shadow that had ever loomed over his past.
The Academy gates creaked open slowly. A squad of magical guards and professors stood on the other side, expressions tense.
Headmaster Roran himself emerged from the crowd, wearing his ceremonial indigo robes embroidered with stars.
"Eliar," he said, voice calm but burdened. "Come with me. Alone."
Selene immediately stepped forward. "Absolutely not. He's injured and unstable—"
"He is not unstable," Roran replied. "But what waits in that vault is tied to his blood. No one else is allowed. That is ancient law."
Eliar raised a hand. "It's fine. I'll go."
Vael'thar growled lowly. "Be careful. If anything feels wrong—call me. I will shatter this entire place to find you."
Eliar nodded and followed the Headmaster into the towering halls of Cyralis.
Inside the Vault of Forgotten Flames
The stone steps descended for what felt like hours. Strange blue flames floated in midair, casting shifting shadows on the walls. Finally, they reached the central chamber—a massive circular vault with rings of floating books and relics.
And there it was.
At the center, suspended by glowing chains of magic: a black leather-bound tome with a golden insignia.
A sword and crown crossed over a flame.
Roran stopped several feet away and gestured. "It's waiting for you. It won't open for anyone else."
Eliar approached.
As soon as he came within arm's reach, the chains shattered into dust.
The book fell into his hands.
And opened.
The Book of Aerion Thorne
The pages turned themselves.
Ink shifted like living smoke.
And then—a face.
Painted with such detail that it might as well have been a window in time.
Aerion.
The same silver-eyed man who'd saved Eliar in the afterlife realm. The same one who fought the shadow like a god of old. The same one who said he was late.
Below the portrait were the words:
"Aerion Thorne, 317th Lord of the Eternal Flame. Founder of the Fifth Quadrant. The One Who Defied Genesis."
Eliar's eyes widened.
Founder. Fifth Quadrant. Defied Genesis.
He flipped through the next pages. The book showed fragments of Aerion's life—his battles, his kingdom, the fall of his lineage. Words whispered directly into Eliar's mind as he read.
"If you hold this book, you are of my blood.
And if you're reading this, then the seal is broken.
The world will burn again.
Find the Fractured Crown.
Reclaim what was lost.
And beware the shadows that wear your face."
The last page bore a seal.
A map.
An ancient path to the Fractured Crown—the artifact said to control the balance between Quadrants.
Eliar stumbled back as the book sealed itself again. His breathing ragged, mind racing.
"You know him, don't you?" Roran asked softly.
"I didn't know he was Thorne... I have seen him before," Eliar whispered to himself. "But he saved me. He fought a creature made of death itself."
Roran exhaled slowly. "Aerion Thorne was erased from history by the High Circle. They feared what he knew. And what he became."
"You knew?"
"Only rumors. But now... this confirms everything." Roran turned to face him fully. "Eliar, the moment you touched this book, the world changed. Spies will move. Factions will rise. You are no longer just a name. You are the last of the Thorne bloodline."
Eliar's hands clenched around the book.
Then the room trembled.
Roran's eyes narrowed. "They're already here."
Aboveground: Chaos Unleashed
The sky above the Academy cracked open.
Dozens of dark-robed figures descended from the clouds, riding on black wyverns. Their armor was etched with glowing runes, and their faces hidden behind obsidian masks.
"The Order of Eclipse," Vael'thar growled from the courtyard. "They've come for Eliar."
Selene drew her twin swords, standing at the center of the rising panic. "They'll have to go through us first."
The Order raised their hands in unison, summoning weapons of void energy.
And then—a blast of light shot through the sky.
It wasn't from the Academy.
It wasn't from the Order.
It came from the east.
And in that light—a woman floated down, clad in pure silver armor, her hair like moonlight and eyes burning with celestial fire.
Selene's eyes widened. "That's..."
Before she could finish, the woman raised her sword toward the invaders.
"You touch the heir of Thorne," she said, "and you answer to the Watchers."
Lightning crashed.
The war for Eliar's fate had begun.