The storm had passed, but its echoes lingered. The South Annex was quiet—too quiet. Rain still trickled down the walls, tapping against the windows like fingers seeking entry. The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.
Kael sat beside Rin's cot in the infirmary wing, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the faint, pulsing rune etched into her wrist. It was subtle—almost invisible—but he knew what it meant.
A brand of sealing. Not a suppressor charm from a worried family. This was institutional. Ancient. Illegal.
He reached out, brushing the rune with the back of his hand. A hiss of pain shot up his fingers—not from the contact, but from the reaction. The rune recognized him. Feared him.
He whispered, "Obsidian Flame."
The rune flared, then vanished.
Rin stirred.
"Back to spying on me?" she croaked.
Kael didn't flinch. "That rune on your wrist—it wasn't yours, was it?"
She sat up slowly, rubbing her forehead. Her fiery hair stuck to her skin, still warm to the touch. "No. It was placed on me when I was five. By the Academy. I don't remember why. Only that it hurt every time I lost control."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "They've been suppressing your magic since childhood."
"Not suppressing," she said. "Chaining."
A heavy silence followed. Then Kael stood, turning toward the door. "Rest. You'll need your strength. Class resumes tomorrow. For you—alone."
Rin blinked. "Why me?"
He didn't answer. He simply walked away.
Midnight in the Archive
Elsewhere in the Academy, Lyra Vale crept through the lower halls of the forbidden west wing. She moved like a shadow, her pale eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Ever since Rin's outburst, something had been gnawing at her. A feeling she couldn't shake—like the air was watching her.
She had to know more.
The restricted archive was locked by glyphs, but glyphs meant little to someone who could see through them. She pressed her hand to the door, and the layered protections unraveled before her inner sight—threads of mana, riddled with false traps and misleading illusions.
She slipped inside.
Rows of dust-choked tomes lined the stone shelves. Notebooks, war logs, blood-sealed contracts. She passed by records of summoning circles, soulcrafting rites, and the Arcane Inquisition.
Then one file pulsed faintly.
A sealed dossier. Plain black leather. No title. No author.
She opened it.
Inside: a picture. Old, blurred by time, but unmistakable. A young man in formal dueling robes, standing over the broken bodies of seven magisters. The sigil on his chest was torn, but a faint rune shimmered beneath the ink.
Obsidian Flame.
Lyra swallowed hard. "Kael was one of them."
Behind her, the air shifted.
"Looking into forbidden texts, Miss Vale?"
She turned fast, but the figure was already vanishing—melting into the shadows.
Just a voice remained.
"Keep digging, and you may not live long enough to regret it."
The Staff Chamber
Headmistress Selene stood before a full circle of instructors and high-ranked magisters. Her robes shimmered with enchantments, her expression unreadable. Behind her, a magical projection played Rin's fire eruption on repeat, slowed frame by frame.
"She's Awakened," said Magister Helvar. "The Flame legacy—active again."
"No, two awakenings," Selene corrected. "Rin's fire—and Kael's reaction to it. The Obsidian Flame stirs once more."
One instructor stepped forward. "Why not remove him now? He's a danger to the Academy. He was exiled for a reason."
Selene's lips curved into a faint smile. "He's more useful inside. For now."
"And the girl?"
Selene turned her gaze to the image of Rin, surrounded by unnatural flame. "Train her. Observe her. But if she loses control again…"
She raised her hand—and crushed a ruby focus stone to dust.
"…terminate her."
Class D – Morning
Kael stood before the half-empty classroom the next morning. Rin sat in the front now, her fire dimmed, her expression harder. Lyra sat two seats over, watching everyone with sharper eyes than before. Something had shifted in her, too.
The others filtered in quietly, subdued.
Kael gestured to the blackboard, which bore only three words:
"Power invites chains."
He spoke with steel in his voice.
"Yesterday you touched power. Some of you feared it. Some of you tasted it. All of you were seen."
No one moved.
Kael continued. "This Academy is not a haven. It is a cage, designed to mold you, suppress you, and break you. But here, in this class, you will learn how to wield power freely. Not recklessly. Not loudly. But in a way that no one can take it from you again."
He turned to the board, underlining the phrase with a crackle of red mana.
"Power invites chains. Unless you learn to forge your own."
Then he turned back.
"From this point forward, our lessons will be private. No observers. No scrying. No reports. You will train in shadow. Because they are watching."
Rin raised her hand. "Who's watching?"
Kael's eyes darkened.
"Everyone."