Even after Anne calmed down, she still couldn't focus. Two other instructors had taken over—one explaining how the factions worked and how they would enhance the overall strength of the Awakeners, and the other covering the academy's facilities: meal times, library access, and restricted areas within the academy.
After thirty minutes, the instructor announced that all students should proceed to the dining hall for a special welcome dinner for the new Awakeners. A commotion erupted as everyone eagerly headed toward the dining hall.
Anne and the others decided to approach the instructors regarding Eren, believing he had done nothing wrong against the student who had challenged him to a duel. Taking the lead, Anne approached Charlotte, who was still lingering on the stage.
"Greetings, Esteemed Fünflicht. We are from Amberwood Village and friends of Eren," Anne said.
Charlotte turned to look at the six figures standing before her.
"Eren did not awaken his Verse, nor can he manifest his innate fire. He is innocent and kind—he would never harm anyone," Anne continued.
"The reason that guy challenged Eren to a duel may have been due to my immature behavior," she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor.
"Shut up, Anne," Klara interjected. "Esteemed Fünflicht, Anne did nothing wrong. That guy demanded Eren's seat. He isn't even from our village, and we don't know him."
Klara continued, "I was the one who told that guy to fuck off, so if anyone's to blame, it's me. Eren and Anne did nothing."
"Esteemed Fünflicht, that's all we have to say. Now, we need to find Eren. Thank you," Klara concluded.
As Anne and the others turned to leave the stage, Charlotte's calm, sweet voice stopped them.
"I admire your honesty. There's no need to look for Eren—I know where he is, and I will handle this matter."
Anne and Klara tried to protest, but Charlotte silenced them with a firm wave of her hand, her expression stern. Anne found herself unable to argue.
"You all should stop worrying about Eren or anything else. Your focus should be on your own training and strength," Charlotte assured them.
With that, Anne and the others left the stage. Charlotte remained, standing still, when a student approached her—tall, with long hair, sharp facial features, dressed in a white tunic and a green cloak.
**"Esteemed Fünflicht, the Awakener Eren went to Dormitory 7, Room 18, where he stayed for ten minutes before leaving in the direction of the logistics section. On his way, he encountered Zweilicht Eleonora, Zweilicht Sibylla, and their friends. I assume he asked them for directions to the logistics section. Instead of helping, they mocked him, beat him to the ground, and stole some of his gold coins.
Afterward, Eren ran toward the magic practical building, then the physical training building, and finally stopped at the library, crying. He entered the library and hasn't left since. I believe he's searching through the shelves."**
The student, Theodor, reported everything that had happened to Eren since he left the auditorium.
"Thank you, Theodor. Leave the rest to me," Charlotte said.
Theodor bowed and left.
After dropping Eren off at the dormitory, Freyja walked in silence, her mind occupied by the events of the day. As a librarian, she had read countless tomes—she had become a librarian because of her love for books. She knew nearly everything about Awakening, Verses, and how past generations had improved their strength by following the paths their Verses dictated.
But never—not in any book, not in any legend—had she heard of someone manifesting an innate flame without a Verse.
A Verse defined a person's path. Without one, there was no path to follow. One could not choose their own path—Verses chose for them. That was what she had learned. That was what she knew.
Could someone truly manifest an innate flame without a Verse? She had never considered the possibility before, but now, she was eager to discuss it.
Freyja quickened her pace, striding through the building. She reached her destination, cracked open the door, and stepped inside—only to stumble back in surprise at the crowd gathered within the room.
Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Freyja had expected to meet only Charlotte after she finished tending to the boy in the library, but she hadn't expected to see the academy's highest-ranking figures here.
"Sit here," Charlotte gestured to a seat beside her.
Freyja hesitated. Her heart pounded as she hesitantly walked forward. She felt unworthy of sitting among these people—after all, she had only awakened her third Verse.
Seated before her was the Headmaster, along with the Silent Watchers—the elders of the academy.
"Did the boy reach the dormitory safely?" Eckhart Drachenfels asked, his gaze fixed on her.
"Yes, Sechslicht [Sixth Verse Awakener]," Freyja answered, standing with reverence in her eyes.
The Headmaster nodded. "Good. Then let's begin."
A heavy silence filled the room as the Headmaster studied the faces before him. Finally, he spoke.
"It has begun."
The room fell into an even deeper silence. Then, after a long pause, one of the elders finally broke it.
"Headmaster, are you saying... the boy is the prophecy?"
The Headmaster nodded.
"What does the prophecy say? Does this mean we have hope?"
"What should we do now?"
"I will guide him to fulfill the prophecy," one of the elders declared.
A heated discussion broke out among them.
Then, Charlotte's calm voice cut through the noise.
"He has no prophecy to fulfill."
The room fell silent again.
"Then what is the meaning of the prophecy if he cannot fulfill it?" one of the elders asked.
Charlotte's expression remained unreadable. "The boy himself is the prophecy. And the prophecy has already been fulfilled."
The Headmaster nodded in agreement.
The elders, however, were left even more confused by her words. Everyone had heard of the prophecy—yet no one dared to utter it aloud. No one knew what would happen once it was fulfilled.
Would it bring a miracle to the world?
Or would it bring destruction?
"Headmaster, you know the prophecy. Please, impart it to us."
The Headmaster shook his head. "I do not know the full prophecy. No one does. But I will tell you what I know..."
"When embers sleep and Verses fade,
A silent wick shall glow unmade.
No script, no word, no burning name,
Yet still, he bears the smallest flame.
A humble spark, too soft to fight,
A flicker lost to endless night."
The Headmaster's face paled with discomfort. His hands tightened around the armrests of his chair as he exchanged glances with the others in the room before slowly lowering himself into his seat. His gaze lingered on Charlotte.
Freyja could hear thunder rumbling outside, flashes of lightning illuminating the windows of the grand hall. As a bookworm, she knew the weight of the prophecy—the one that no one dared to speak of. She knew what was supposed to happen when the prophecy was fulfilled.
If one wished to learn the prophecy, they had to be courageous enough to utter it. But how did one determine if they were truly courageous? That was a question even Freyja did not have the answer to.
"Headmaster, then what is the purpose of this gathering?" one of the elders finally asked.
The Headmaster sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, carefully piecing his words together before finally speaking.
"I suppose it is time... we travel north."
Aghast expressions filled the room. Horror crept into the faces of those present.
"I-Is it already time? This can't be right... Is the prophecy connected to the North?" an elder stammered in disbelief.
"Why must we go north? Headmaster, what is there?"
"Why do you refuse to tell us anything?"
"Don't leave us in the dark, Headmaster. We have the right to know."
"You once told me, 'The truth will be revealed in time—perhaps to me, or perhaps to my descendants.' Has that time come, Headmaster?"
The Headmaster slowly stood from his chair. The room fell into an eerie silence.
"Yes," he confirmed. "The time I spoke of has come, and soon, you will know everything."
"How much time do we have?" another elder asked, his voice tight with apprehension.
"Two years."
Silence.
Tension thickened in the room as they absorbed his words.
"Headmaster... is the prophecy truly connected to our journey north?"
"Is the boy an abomination? Or will he be our protector?"
Freyja sat quietly, absorbing everything. She had never read of this—none of this was recorded in any archives. Everything discussed here was new to her. But one thing was clear:
The boy with no Verse.
This meeting with the Silent Watchers.
The Headmaster's sudden decision to head north.
It was all connected.
"The Song of the Primordials"
The phrase surfaced in her mind. What did it mean? She didn't know. No one did. The tome bearing that name was incomplete—its pages torn out, as if someone had erased it from history itself.
She had found it once, discarded in the archives, abandoned because it was deemed useless. Yet, as she delved into other tomes, she learned something chilling—certain texts could only be read by those deemed 'worthy.'
But who determined worthiness?
And what happened if someone unworthy tried to read it?
She had no answers.
As she pondered, the discussion neared its end.
"So, what should we do about the boy?" Hartwin Aschenholz, one of the elders, finally asked. "We can't ignore him if we don't know what the prophecy will bring."
The Headmaster's voice was resolute. "We do nothing. He will walk the path he chooses… or the one already determined for him. We cannot interfere."
"As discussed, we will journey north when the time comes. You should all begin preparing—physically and mentally," the Headmaster concluded.
A moment later, the elders began leaving the hall, their expressions grim. Only Charlotte, Freyja, and the Headmaster remained.
Charlotte bowed. "I will take my leave, Headmaster."
As she turned to go, the Headmaster spoke. "Charlotte, do you believe the time has truly come?"
Charlotte stopped but said nothing. Silence stretched between them before she continued walking, her answer left unspoken.
The Headmaster sighed and turned to Freyja. "What do you think of the boy?"
Freyja hesitated. Then, she met his gaze. "I don't know, Grandpa. But if you allow me to explore Viremontis Hollow, I might be able to tell you something about him."
The answer was immediate. "No."
"Grandpa—" Freyja's voice faltered. She had asked this question countless times since she was seven years old, begging to explore Viremontis Hollow, the ancient jungle that housed ruins older than the kingdom itself. But no one—not even kings or princes—was allowed to set foot there.
"You know the dangers that reside there, Freyja," the Headmaster said softly. "Even if you were royalty, you would not be permitted to enter."
Freyja clenched her fists. "Then let me mentor the boy."
The Headmaster frowned. "He does not need a mentor. If he did, Charlotte would have taken him as her disciple. As she said, he has no prophecy to fulfill. He is the prophecy itself. Whatever path he follows is his own choice."
Freyja took a deep breath. "What if I told you I know something about his flame? That it is Primordial in nature? And that he cannot progress—at least not anytime soon—without my help?"
The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. He studied her in silence before finally relenting. "Speak."
Freyja straightened. "I found a tome related to the Primordials. It chooses its reader—'The Song of the Primordials.' The tome has no pages, no chapters, as if it was deliberately erased. But according to other texts, some tomes refuse to reveal their secrets unless the reader is deemed worthy."
She met his gaze, trying to gauge his reaction.
The Headmaster sighed. "Even if I allowed it, no one understands how his candlelight flame works."
"Leave that to me," Freyja said firmly. "I believe I can guide him down a path that does not exist."
The Headmaster shook his head, exasperation clear in his expression. "I say it's a waste of time. You should focus on your own strength."
Freyja stood up. "Don't worry about me, Grandpa. I know what I'm doing. One day, I will recite the full prophecy and uncover the truth behind it."
With that, she turned and left the room, her steps brimming with determination.
The Headmaster remained seated, watching her go. A look of disbelief flickered across his face.