A storm brewed above Crescent Academy, but it was no natural storm.
Black lightning laced the clouds, and an unnatural pressure weighed down upon the capital spires. Magic in the air thickened, and those sensitive to its pulse felt it first—the awakening of an ancient power.
Deep in the Hall of Crest Forging, Lucien stood before the altar, his breath even as the dark rose crest in his hand pulsed with an eerie violet hue. The magic within was alive, whispering in languages that only the forgotten bloodlines could understand.
He wrapped his fingers around the crest mold.
> "One must die for the other to awaken."
The voice echoed not in the air—but in his soul.
Lucien knew the ritual required blood. His own would not suffice.
No. This crest was meant to consume, to rewrite.
And it would.
---
Across the academy, students and instructors scrambled as magical alarms rang out. Professor Legrim of the House of Binding sprinted through the northern corridors, eyes blazing with protective wards.
"Unauthorized arcane resonance in Sector X-12. Source: ancient classification."
He paused.
X-12 hadn't been accessed in decades.
"Impossible," he muttered, drawing a sigil of tracking in the air. "That area's sealed. Unless... someone found the vault."
Only one student's name came to mind.Lucien Thorne.Back in the chamber:Lucien pressed the crest to his chest.
Violet energy flared, and his body convulsed. The pain was unreal, like being pulled apart by fire and ice. The crest tore through his soul structure, ripping out dormant seals placed on him as a child.
Memories flooded in.
> A woman whispering lullabies of rebellion.
A man with a crown of thorns sealing his infant son in a cradle of runes.
Screams. Betrayal. Magic undone.
The rose crest dug into his heart, searing a brand across his chest.
His eyes opened—no longer just violet. Now they shimmered with rotating runes, constantly analyzing, rewriting.
Lucien had become the first living crest.
---
At the edge of the academy, a cloaked figure watched lightning dance over the tower.
"Phase One... complete," murmured the figure—Selira Vael, the rebel infiltrator posing as a library aide.
Her orders had been clear: locate the lost heir, awaken the Thorned Crest, and observe.
She pulled out a shard of obsidian with a glowing core and whispered.
"Matriarch, the flame has been lit."
---
In the capital, the Royal Court's Grand Mage, Altheon, jolted awake.
He staggered from his arcane meditation chamber, eyes wide.
"A forbidden crest… has activated."
He pulled on his ceremonial robes, golden and crimson, embroidered with runes of protection.
The court would panic if they learned the Blackthorn Line had returned.
He snarled, "That boy must be silenced before the nobles learn the truth."
He summoned his fastest hunter—a masked enforcer known only as Veyr.
"Go to Crescent. Kill the boy named Lucien Thorne. No traces."
---
Dawn broke, but the light that touched Crescent Academy was pale and hollow.
Lucien emerged from the shadows of the vault, no longer cloaked in anonymity.
The rose-shaped sigil glowed faintly beneath his collar, hidden beneath a reinforced academy coat modified with ancient weave-runes.
On the surface, he was still a top-tier student.
But within?
He was reborn.
A force capable of unmaking laws, rewriting systems, and—most dangerously—outwitting history itself.
He walked into the morning mist, a predator among nobles, a phantom prince of a forgotten line.
> "Let them come," he whispered.
"I will rewrite their truths. And when I'm done—there will be no crowns left to wear."