The halls of the Academy were unusually quiet. The midday sun shone through the towering stained-glass windows, casting multi-colored patterns across the stone floors. Yet the mood within the upper chambers of the Grand Council was anything but calm.
Five faculty members sat in a crescent arc around a glowing sigil—a map etched with shifting tendrils of light representing magical disturbances across the realm. One tendril, in particular, flared a dark crimson.
"Another rupture in the northern region," said Magister Veylor, tapping the red flare with a crystal rod. "The third in as many weeks. Something's stirring beyond the old wards."
Instructor Liora folded her arms. "And you still believe the Academy should remain idle?"
Magister Selen, the silver-haired woman from the trial evaluations, exhaled slowly. "The balance of the elements is faltering. Storms are forming in patterns long thought impossible. Old magic is rising again."
A silence fell before Headmaster Dairen finally spoke. "We send a team. Not warriors—students. Let them see the world beyond our walls. And let the world glimpse the next generation."
---
Ashen leaned against a stone pillar outside the mission chamber, arms folded, while Kaelin fidgeted beside him.
"You think it's just a scouting trip?" she asked.
"I doubt it," Ashen murmured. "They don't send second-rank trial teams out just to deliver scrolls."
Seraphine joined them, her usual smirk slightly tempered. "Rumor is it's a diplomatic run to a border village. But those same villages have had strange lightning storms—no rain, just sparks."
A moment later, Instructor Liora emerged. "Team Storme. Report to Gatepost Seven. You'll travel to Veilwood Hamlet, observe magical anomalies in the surrounding region, and report back. If anything seems unstable, do not engage. Understood?"
They nodded in unison.
---
Veilwood Hamlet lay nestled against an ancient forest said to predate the founding of the five kingdoms. The journey was peaceful at first—rolling hills, quiet brooks, and patches of flowering trees. But as they neared their destination, the air changed.
It was too quiet. The wind felt heavier, as if carrying unspoken words.
Kaelin shivered. "Feels... wrong."
They arrived to find the hamlet seemingly untouched, though oddly deserted. Doors hung ajar. Animals were gone. The sky had an amber hue.
Ashen stepped forward and felt it—a pulse in the earth. Not fire. Not water. Something deeper. Older.
"Everyone stay close," he said.
They moved through the village square, weapons loosely gripped, until Kaelin knelt beside a stone well.
"There's something glowing—down there."
Ashen looked. A flicker of blue-green light danced at the bottom, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"I'll go," Seraphine volunteered, already tying a rope.
Ashen shook his head. "No. I can—"
But it was too late. As Seraphine descended, the sky darkened. A low hum vibrated through the air. Runes lit up across the village stones.
"Trap," Ashen whispered. "Get her out—now."
The light exploded upward in a burst of corrupted elemental energy, sending Kaelin and Ashen sprawling. Seraphine screamed as she was yanked upward—not by the rope, but by a tendril of writhing shadow.
Masked figures emerged from the forest—cloaked in gray and black, each wielding jagged weapons infused with unstable magic. Their leader raised a gnarled staff.
"Return to us, Flameborn," he hissed. "You belong to the cycle."
Ashen's eyes widened. They know.
Kaelin unleashed a wave of water from her palms, knocking two attackers back. "Who are these people?!"
Seraphine broke free with a blast of flame, landing beside Ashen, blood on her arm.
The leader pointed at Ashen. "The Reclaimed Flame rises again. The Veil has thinned. You cannot escape your inheritance."
Ashen's instincts screamed. The shadows were binding the natural elements—twisting water into steam, flame into black fire. Kaelin struggled to keep the energy in control. Seraphine panted, her flames flickering.
Ashen's control broke.
With a roar, he stepped forward and summoned aether—pure, unfiltered, silvery-blue energy that shimmered like starlight. It burst from his palm in a spiral, tearing through the corrupted field, unraveling the dark bindings.
The attackers screamed, shields cracking, spells shattering. The forest groaned.
When the light faded, the enemies had vanished. Only their twisted masks remained.
Kaelin stared at him, eyes wide. "Ashen... what was that?"
Seraphine clutched her arm. "That wasn't fire. Or water. Or air. That was something else."
Ashen looked down at his hands, the aether still humming beneath his skin. He closed his fist.
"I... don't know."
---
They returned to the Academy in silence, the sun dipping below the horizon.
Headmaster Dairen stood waiting. He did not ask questions—only gestured for them to follow.
As they disappeared into the Tower of Reflection for debriefing, the shadows behind the stained-glass windows seemed to stretch a little longer than they should.
And deep within the archives, a sealed scroll began to glow—marked with a single symbol: a crown wreathed in flame.