The city sang as they entered—soft musical notes woven into the air itself. Cobblestones shimmered like stardust. Trees bloomed with glowing fruit. The air was thick with the scent of night jasmine and old spellwork.
They stepped into an empty plaza at the heart of the city. Statues of women—Queens, like themselves—lined the circle. Each face carved with impossible detail. Each gaze pointing inward, toward a raised dais at the center.
Calla stepped forward, squinting. "They look like us."
"They are us," Serenya said, brushing her fingers against a statue that bore her exact likeness. "Or… who we once were."
Zerina turned to Avenya. "This place was waiting. For centuries. For us to bleed together. For us to awaken."
"Why only us?" Kaelara asked, eyes sharp. "Why not anyone else?"
"Because only our blood has the key," Avenya said. "Only our bond reawakens Velharon."
Suddenly, a rumble echoed through the plaza. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet.
Calla reached for Serenya instinctively. "What was that?"
Zerina raised her hand and whispered a word in the old tongue. Fire flared at her fingertips. "Something ancient stirs."
Inside the Throne Halls
They followed the spiral path that led to the palace. Vast double doors, carved from obsidian and bone, groaned open at their touch. Inside was silence. Dust floated like stars.
Five thrones stood beneath an arched ceiling, each with a sigil carved above it—flame, forest, moon, noble crest, and a swirling black sun.
Kaelara stepped to hers, fingers brushing the wolf etched into the wood. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"You don't have to be," Avenya said gently. "You just have to sit."
Zerina, solemn, lowered herself onto the flame throne. "We've done the trials. We've shed blood. Now we rebuild."
Serenya and Calla sat side by side, their hands intertwined on their moon and crest thrones.
Avenya approached hers last. The black sun pulsed faintly with light. When she sat, the entire room glowed.
A hum began—soft and steady. The thrones lit up.
A voice—female, ageless, filled with stars—echoed from the walls.
"Velharon remembers."
In the Queen's Wing – Later That Night
The five were given separate chambers by the castle's magic. The halls changed around them, shaping rooms to match their desires.
Kaelara's quarters grew wild and lush, trees curling into her windows. Serenya's were cloaked in soft moonlight. Calla's glowed with noble grandeur. Zerina's pulsed with golden flame.
Avenya stood alone on her balcony, overlooking the sea. The wind played with her cloak. Her skin tingled—not from magic, but from the presence
The chamber pulsed with ancient magic, the very air thick with power. The five Queens stood in a circle, their hands still slick with shared blood from the ritual that awakened Velharon. Their breath mingled with mist rising from the marble floor, shadows swirling in vibrant runes beneath their feet.
Avenya's gaze darted to the others, then to her own bloodied palm. The ritual had changed something in her—something deep. Not just power... memory. "Do you feel it?" she asked softly.
Zerina nodded. Her flame-red hair shimmered like firelight in the dim glow. "It's not just magic. It's a... call."
Kaelara's wolf growled lowly beside her. "Something's awakened, and it's not just us."
Calla frowned, her noble features clouded with worry. "The veil between worlds—it trembled."
Serenya looked up sharply. "And we've shattered it."
A sudden wind blew through the chamber, though no door had opened. At the center of the room, the stone beneath their feet shifted, rumbling. A golden crest rose slowly from the floor—Velharon's sigil, crowned and etched in Old Tongue.
Avenya stared at it, eyes wide. "This is it. Our kingdom... our home."
They followed the markings, a trail of golden light leading behind a hidden archway. The space beyond was no longer part of the academy grounds—it was something older, timeless.
**
The path was winding, dark, lined with ruins that seemed caught in a dream. Avenya paused, brushing her fingers across a familiar archway.
"I remember this," she whispered. "When I first came to the academy... I passed a hallway like this. But they told me it was just ruins."
Kaelara stepped beside her, brushing dirt from a carved crest. "They hid it well. But we always belonged to more than the academy."
Calla touched Serenya's shoulder gently, and the temple girl leaned into her. "Do you think the professors knew?" Calla asked.
Serenya shook her head. "Some may have suspected. But the truth? No... this was sealed for centuries."
Zerina turned to Avenya. "Do you think they'll let us just walk away?"
"No," Avenya answered. "But we're not just students anymore."
Still, her heart ached. She remembered the courtyard gardens, the mess hall noise, the whispered secrets in dormitory corners. Her first real friendships. The first time she kissed someone without fear. She remembered nights training under the stars, aching muscles and aching hearts. That was where she met each of them.
Her brows furrowed. "We'll have to go back."
The Queens stopped.
"Back?" Serenya asked.
Avenya turned to them. "The academy. It's where it all began... and where it will begin again."
Zerina's jaw clenched. "Even after this? After Velharon?"
Avenya nodded. "Yes. Because Velharon's awakening didn't just touch our world. I can feel it—others felt it too."
Calla's voice was quiet, but firm. "You think... they'll come?"
"They already have," Avenya said darkly. "Not in the open, not yet. But the cracks are forming. It'll start small. Whispers. Shadows. New students who aren't really what they seem."
Kaelara's wolf growled lowly. "The school is already being watched."
"And no one knows," Avenya said. "Not the Headmistress. Not even the Arcanists. But they will. When it's too late."
Serenya stepped forward, her hand reaching for Calla's. "Then we go back. We protect it. We protect them."
Avenya looked over each of them. "We are Velharon. But we are also students of the Academy. Both roles matter."
Kaelara cracked her knuckles. "Then let's finish what we started."
The path opened into a vast, silver-lit chamber. Stairs descended toward a swirling portal framed by ancient stones. Magic hummed in the air, soft and sweet. It smelled like home.
They descended, hand in hand, power surging through them, love anchoring them.
Velharon had returned.
And the world had noticed.