Deep beneath the ruins of an abandoned outpost—buried under twisted roots and broken stone—Alora's locator spell pulsed once, then dimmed.
"We're close," she whispered.
Chase raised a brow. "Are you sure this is the place? 'Vault of the Exiled Flame' sounds like something from a cult's Wattpad account."
Alora gave him a look. "You're literally a half-vampire warlock raised in a boarding school for magical disasters."
"…Fair."
They descended the final staircase, the air thick with heat and arcane static. At the base was a massive iron door, crusted with runes so old they bled rust. At the center, a single warning was etched:
"Knowledge kept in the dark does not die. It festers."
Chase put his hand on the seal.
It recognized his blood.The runes flared. The door split open with a sound like chains screaming.
Inside?
Books. Scrolls. Weapons. Crystals.But most of all—power. Raw, old, illegal as hell power.
Day One: Pain is the Lesson
The first scroll was titled:
"Volucris Mortem: Transfiguration of the Soul by Fire and Bone."
Chase opened it. The letters rearranged themselves into something his mind barely grasped. Heat bled from the page into his skin.
His nose started bleeding.
Alora immediately shoved a cloth at him. "You haven't even started casting yet!"
Chase grinned through the blood. "Guess I'm learning."
Day Four: The Burn
He could barely move. His veins felt like they were lined with magma. The spell he tried—Sanguine Bind—backfired and snapped every nerve like guitar strings.
But he was improving. Slowly.
With each failure, the scrolls gave more—as if respecting the pain.One spell, Oblivion Veil, let him vanish from all magical sight for five seconds.
That was enough to slit a throat. Or escape. Or both.
Day Nine: The Ghost
"Something's watching us," Alora said.
Chase nodded. "I know. It's been watching since I opened Scroll Eight."
They turned the chamber upside-down—but found nothing.
Except one thing: a single phrase, scratched into the wall behind a hidden cabinet.
"The Dead Remember. The Flame Never Forgives."
It hadn't been there before.
Day Twelve: Trial of the Ashborn
Scroll Twelve wasn't a scroll.
It was a mirror.
And it spoke.
"If you want power… give me the name of someone you'd kill to keep it."
Chase stared at his own reflection. His hand trembled. The mirror's surface rippled.
He clenched his fist.
"Councilor Sereth."
The mirror laughed, a cold, ringing sound—and shattered.
From its fragments rose a shadow made of ash and crimson fire. Chase didn't flinch.
"Let's do this."
End of Chapter