Three days.
That was all the time Valerian had before the Obsidian Gate opened—and before the unknown creators of his soul crossed through it.
He could feel it now. The pressure in the air. The buzzing in his blood. Magic itself recoiled from the Gate's energy, as if the world feared what lay beyond.
But Valerian wasn't afraid.
He was angry.
Angry that someone—something—had designed him. Angry that his life had always been part of a larger scheme. Angry that the answers were buried behind a choice that could shatter his mind.
And despite all that, he still hadn't drunk the vial.
"Stalling won't help forever."
Valerian didn't need to look up to recognize the voice.
Seraphine.
She stood in the shadow of his dormitory's balcony, her long white hair catching the glow of starlight, her blue eyes piercing as always.
"You've changed," she said, stepping closer. "You're colder."
He turned slowly, meeting her gaze without blinking. "And you came to lecture me?"
"To warn you."
She dropped a sealed scroll on the table between them. The wax bore the crest of House Lysoria—her own house.
"An ultimatum," she said. "They're giving me one last chance to bring you down. Publicly. A duel in front of the Council. Win, and your reputation might become untouchable. Lose… and you're expelled."
He picked up the scroll with careful fingers. "And you?"
"I told them I'd consider it," Seraphine replied, her eyes unreadable.
Valerian arched a brow. "Will you?"
Seraphine didn't answer immediately. She stood there, her eyes searching his face for something, anything that would give her a hint of what he might do next. She was good at reading people—Valerian had learned that in their time together. But this time, it was different. He wasn't going to make it easy for her.
"I don't know," she admitted finally. "I came here hoping you'd give me a reason not to."
He stepped closer, until only inches separated them. The tension between them was thick enough to feel like a tangible thing. His heartbeat thudded in his chest.
"Then maybe this will help."
Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her.
Soft.
Real.
Dangerous.
The moment their lips met, something cracked in Valerian. For a fraction of a second, he felt everything—the power, the anger, the weight of his choices, all of it fading as Seraphine's warmth seeped into him. She didn't pull away immediately. Her breath hitched, and he felt the quickened pulse in her fingers as they gripped the edge of his coat.
When he pulled back, her breath had caught, and a rare flush crept across her pale cheeks, staining them with an unfamiliar hue.
"You manipulative bastard," she whispered, her voice unsteady, betraying her own confusion.
"Only when it matters," he said, his voice low and calm, though his heart was anything but. He hadn't expected that kiss to mean so much—certainly not to him. But it had.
Without another word, Seraphine spun on her heel, her coat trailing behind her as she left. The door slammed shut with a force that echoed in the quiet room, but Valerian didn't need the system to tell him what he already knew.
[System Update: Seraphine Lysoria – Affection +7. Status: Conflicted Affection. Duel Probability – 60%. Emotional Turmoil – High.]
---
The next day, Mila confronted him in the training yard, her usual confidence tempered by something else in her gaze.
"I heard," she said, crossing her arms.
"Heard what?" Valerian replied nonchalantly, although he could feel her eyes scanning him, searching for any sign of weakness.
"That you kissed Seraphine and didn't die. Impressive."
Valerian smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it. "You jealous?"
Mila rolled her eyes, but the flush that crept into her cheeks betrayed her. "Please. You're not my type."
[System Note: Lie Detected. Mila Tierwyn: Jealousy Level – Moderate.]
She sighed, clearly exasperated. "Look, I'm here because something's wrong with the Gate. It's not just a magical rupture. It's pulling magic in. Feeding on it."
He frowned. "Feeding?"
"Yes," Mila said, her voice growing more serious, "Like it's alive. I traced the energy, and it's accelerating. Whatever's on the other side—it's not just coming through. It's hungry."
That word sent a chill through him. Hungry. As if it were a creature, waiting to devour everything in its path.
[System Alert: Magical Drain Detected – External Source Absorbing Arcane Energy Across Campus. Consequences Unknown.]
"Something's feeding off the magic here," he muttered, looking up at the sky, as though searching for answers in the stars. "Why would it do that?"
"Whatever's behind the Gate isn't just interested in power," Mila said softly, stepping closer. "It's coming for something. Or someone. And I don't think it's going to stop until it gets what it wants."
Valerian clenched his fists, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Whatever this Hollow Flame was, it was beyond dangerous. But he didn't have time to waste on speculations. They had to act now.
---
That night, Valerian stood alone before the Diviner's Tower, where he had first met Aldric after the invitation. This time, however, he wasn't alone.
Lira stood beside him, dressed in a dark cloak, her hand gripping her staff tightly. The moonlight cast strange shadows on her face, making her seem almost otherworldly.
"I want to help," she said, her voice steady, though there was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. "You might not trust me. But I've seen this energy before. In the Sealed Archives. There are ancient records—fragments—mentioning something called the Hollow Flame."
He turned his head sharply to look at her, disbelief written on his face. "What is it?"
Lira hesitated. "Not what. Who. The Hollow Flame was once a god. Or a being so powerful that it consumed realms and turned them into shadows. It was sealed by the Elder Mages thousands of years ago—behind a gate."
"The Obsidian Gate," Valerian said, piecing everything together in a moment of realization.
Lira nodded. "Exactly."
[System Alert: Hollow Flame Entity Recognition – Match 92%. Status: Awakening. Time Remaining: 48 hours.]
---
That night, as the academy slept uneasily, Valerian stood alone before the hidden chamber deep beneath the Headmaster's Sanctum. The room was cold, shrouded in silence and the remnants of ancient magic. The medallion on his chest pulsed faintly, as though aware of the decision before him.
The vial was still in his hand, its glass surface reflecting the faint, flickering light from the candles he had set in place around the room. He stared at it, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Everything felt like it was building to this singular moment. This was the point of no return.
But he didn't drink it.
Slowly, he set the vial down on the stone table in front of him, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed the edge. It felt like a weight had been lifted, yet at the same time, a new heaviness settled into his chest.
"Not yet," he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. He knew what he was about to do. He had to face the Gate as he was—weak, uncertain, but alive. To drink that vial, to take that power... it felt like surrender. And Valerian wasn't ready to surrender.
"I'll face them as I am."
But inside, he wasn't sure if that was bravery—or fear.
With a deep breath, he turned his gaze toward the dark passage that led deeper into the Sanctum, where the Obsidian Gate awaited.
His time was running out.
---
[System Alert: 48 hours remaining until Obsidian Gate activation. All remaining decisions critical.]
The choice was his.