The night stretched endlessly over the academy, cold and silent. Max had stayed up late in the library, buried under old tomes and magical scrolls, trying to understand his powers better. The newfound strength within him was both exhilarating and terrifying. Every time he thought he had a grip on it, something else would unlock, something even more unpredictable.
But today felt different. The air was thicker. Max could feel eyes on him, like the shadows themselves were watching his every move.
He glanced over his shoulder as he exited the library, but saw nothing—only the flickering lights of distant torches. His instincts screamed at him, urging him to be careful, but he shook it off. He was too tired. Too tired of hiding, of running from questions he couldn't answer.
The cold night air hit him as he stepped outside.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head.
[System Alert: Fragmented Memory Detected. Activating Visual Reconstruction.]
Max staggered, clutching his forehead. The world blurred, and the pain intensified, pulsing like a heartbeat. His vision faded, and then, without warning, a memory unlocked.
The scene was dark, but the sound of wind howling through the trees echoed. Max—no, it was Peter—stood in a forest, drenched in rain. His eyes were wild, filled with both determination and despair. In his hand, he held a black, cracked artifact.
"No one can know... not yet."
Max—or rather Peter—spoke to someone, but the figure remained hidden, shrouded in shadow. There was a weight to the conversation, a secret buried deep beneath every word.
"If they find out what this really is… they'll destroy everything."
Max's breath quickened as the memory pulsed, coming clearer. He saw Elara's face then, beautiful but cold—her eyes filled with distrust.
"I can't let them have it."
Peter's voice cut through the memory as if the words were meant for Max himself. The scene shifted, showing a distant tower in the night, surrounded by walls of ice. The landscape was barren, but there was a strange power in the air—a sharp, pulsing energy that Max could feel in his very bones.
The memory flickered once more, and then everything went dark.
Max stood in the present, gasping for air. He clenched his fists, sweat dripping down his face. The image of the artifact flashed in his mind again. His hand instinctively went to the necklace around his neck, the one that felt like it had been part of him for as long as he could remember.
"Max?"
A voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. Max turned sharply to see Celia standing nearby, her brows furrowed with concern. She had apparently been looking for him.
"Are you alright? You look pale."
Max nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little... dizzy, I guess."
But Celia wasn't convinced. She took a step forward. "You've been acting strange lately. Are you sure you're okay?"
Before Max could answer, the distant sound of a bell rang, signaling the end of evening curfew. Students began to trickle back to their dorms.
"I have to go," Max said quickly, stepping away from Celia. "I'll catch up later."
But Celia reached out and grabbed his wrist, her grip firm.
"Max, wait. I'm serious. If there's something wrong, you can talk to me."
Max hesitated, the weight of the memory still pressing on him. He shook his head, pulling away. "I... I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
He walked away from her without looking back, leaving her standing in the growing darkness. His heart pounded as the feeling of being watched intensified.
In a shadowed alcove, far from the academy's glowing lights, Julius Frost stood, his gaze fixed on Max's retreating figure. His breath fogged in the cold night air, but his eyes were cold, calculating.
"He doesn't even know what he is." Julius's voice was low, but there was a dangerous edge to it.
Lena, standing by his side, nodded. "The artifact... the power it holds—Max has no idea of the depths of it. And neither do we. Peter made sure of that."
Julius turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "We'll bring him in. He's too dangerous to leave unchecked."
"But how?" Lena asked. "Max is just a kid. He doesn't have the control to wield the artifact's full potential."
Julius's lips twisted into a grim smile. "He won't have a choice. Soon, he'll be forced to tap into its power—or he'll die."
Back in the academy's dormitory, Max sat alone in his room, staring at the pendant around his neck. The memory he had uncovered—Peter's final moments—filled his mind. What was it that his father had hidden? Why had he been so adamant that Max be born powerless? What did the artifact truly do?
"No one can know…"
The words echoed in his mind.
Max closed his eyes. He was no longer just an orphan. He wasn't just some powerless kid.
The burden of his past had caught up to him.
And soon, he would have to face it.