The Tower of Reflection was colder than usual, its obsidian walls humming with ancient enchantments. As Ashen sat in the circular chamber alongside Kaelin and Seraphine, a cold knot twisted in his stomach. The polished floor reflected them like a still pool, distorted only by the swirling magic that kept the space sealed.
Across from them sat Magister Veylor, stern as ever, and Magister Selen, her silver eyes unblinking.
"We've reviewed your account," Selen began. "But something doesn't add up."
Veylor's fingers tapped the crystal scroll in his hand. "You claim corrupted elemental magic, masked attackers, and a spontaneous burst of... aether?"
Ashen kept his expression calm. "I didn't name it. I reacted."
"Reactions don't bend the laws of magic."
"It saved us," Kaelin said quietly, her voice steady but laced with emotion.
"Indeed," Selen murmured. "But saving and understanding are two different things."
They were dismissed after that, though Ashen could feel their eyes burning into his back as he exited the chamber.
Outside, the trio walked in silence down the marble steps. The sky above the Academy was choked with pale gray clouds, casting strange shadows across the spires.
Seraphine broke the silence first. "So... you going to tell us what that was?"
Ashen kept walking. "I told you. I don't know."
She raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't fire. Wasn't anything I've ever seen. It felt like... stars."
Kaelin moved closer to Ashen's side, her expression more conflicted. "Ashen, I've known you longer than anyone here. I trust you. But... if something's happening to you, or you're hiding something, I need to know."
He stopped, turning to face them. The weight of centuries lingered in his chest.
"I promise you both—I'll explain everything. Just... not yet."
Kaelin bit her lip, uncertain. Seraphine, to his surprise, simply shrugged.
"Fine. Keep your secrets, mystery boy. But next time you explode with cosmic magic, maybe give us a heads-up."
Later that night, Ashen wandered the western wing of the Academy alone. The library loomed, vast and silent, its vaulted ceilings holding more knowledge than the five kingdoms combined. He wasn't supposed to be here after curfew.
But something had pulled him—an instinct, a whisper.
In the farthest alcove, past shelves of dust-riddled tomes, a door stood open that had never been open before. Inside, an ancient chamber lit by floating orbs revealed a cracked mural on the wall.
It showed a man with eyes of flame and a crown of shifting elements—water, fire, earth, air, lightning, ice, and more. Behind him, armies bowed. Opposing him, a shadow with many faces.
Beneath it was a phrase in Old Elaric:
"The Flame Sovereign shall rise again, when the Balance breaks."
Ashen's breath caught. He stepped closer, fingers tracing the crack through the figure's face. In that moment, a whisper echoed in the chamber—not aloud, but in his mind.
"He who wields all shall face all. Reign reborn, or ruin."
He turned sharply, but the room was empty. Yet something lingered... a presence, like the past watching.
Elsewhere in the Academy, Kaelin lay in her dormitory, staring at the ceiling.
She'd seen something in Ashen's eyes when he used that strange magic—something ancient, powerful... and lonely.
Despite herself, she smiled. "You're more than you seem, Ashen Storme. And I'm going to find out what."
In a distant hallway, Talon Draeve leaned against a pillar, arms crossed.
"I saw you glow like a damn star, Storme," he muttered. "And I'm going to figure out how."
Behind him, a shadow shifted unnaturally against the wall—its edges fraying like smoke.
Far beyond the Academy, in a ruined shrine, masked figures knelt before a brazier of black flame.
"He has awakened," the cult leader said. "The heir returns."
"And the cycle?" one asked.
"Shall burn anew."