In the heart of Crescent Academy, beneath the soaring spires and sunlit courtyards, ran a less glorious place—The Hall of Records. Built into the oldest foundation stones of the academy, it was a labyrinth of sealed archives, forbidden grimoires, and unspoken truths.
Prince Caelum Solmere stood before its massive golden door, flanked by two stone lions that glowed faintly with warding runes. His new crest—the Crown of Light—gleamed against his palm, resonating with the runes.
This chamber was only opened to those who had passed the Radiant Trial.
He placed his hand on the seal.
With a deep grinding of stone and a blinding flash of celestial magic, the doors opened.
---
Inside, rows upon rows of scrolls and tomes lined the obsidian walls. Candlelight flickered in glass orbs suspended in midair. The scent of dust and enchantment lingered like memory.
An aged figure emerged from the shadows—Keeper Elros, the last living historian of the Old Blood Pact.
> "Many come here seeking power," the Keeper rasped. "Few seek understanding. What is it you hope to find, Crowned Flame?"
Caelum bowed respectfully. "Truth. The kind buried beneath centuries of light."
The Keeper studied him. Then nodded.
> "Then follow, Prince of Light. And beware… for even light casts shadows."
---
They walked past shelves holding records of every war, every ascension, every betrayal. Elros finally stopped before a sealed cabinet, runed and wrapped in time itself.
He whispered an incantation older than the kingdom.
The cabinet creaked open, revealing a single ancient scroll bound in black-gold thread.
> "This," he said, "is the prophecy the Crown buried."
Caelum hesitated, then opened it.
---
The Prophecy of the Two Suns:
> "When the Crown burns too bright, A second sun shall rise in the dark. Born not of light, but of understanding. One shall lead with flame, The other with thorns. And the world shall choose— Salvation or Ruin."
---
Caelum's hands tightened around the parchment. Two suns. Two heirs. One of light, one of thorns.
"Who is the second?" he asked quietly.
Keeper Elros looked away. "We do not know. Only that the signs have begun."
A cold ripple ran through Caelum. "And if we are both fated to clash?"
The Keeper's voice was low. "Then pray you are not the brighter flame… because the brightest flames burn out first."
---
Elsewhere, far beyond Crescent's reach, in the burned-out ruins of a hidden city beneath the cliffs of Tharvalon, a boy knelt before a grave marked only by a broken crown and dead flowers.
His violet eyes flickered with runes.
His voice was cold, deliberate.
> "The world cast me aside… but magic cannot lie."
He opened a tome—one stolen from the deepest vault of the academy. With his bare hands, he began rewriting the enchantments within, stripping away divine locks and altering their cores.
The spells bent to his will.
> "They forged me in thorns," he whispered. "I will return in bloom."
He stood.
His name was not yet spoken in the high courts.
But soon, the other heir would rise.
---
Back at the Academy, Caelum returned from the Hall of Records in silence. That night, the stars seemed dimmer. The flame in his chest flickered with something he hadn't known before—
Doubt.
He gazed out from his tower, watching the twin moons reflect on Crescent Lake.
> "If I am the Crown… then who is the Thorn?"
Behind him, the shadows of the court gathered.
Plots had begun.
And across the continent, rebels whispered of a new symbol—a thorned sigil etched in violet fire.