The training yard was silent.
Rin stared at the fragment of the Ashbrand, its dull ember pulsing faintly beneath the ironwood box's rim. She reached toward it—but Kael's voice stopped her.
"Not yet."
She glanced at him, brows furrowed.
"You don't command it with your hands," Kael said. "You awaken it with your truth."
He stepped back, folding his arms. "The Ashbrand was forged to answer only one legacy: the Flamebearers. And even then, only those willing to confront what they are—not what others made them."
Rin's hand dropped.
"What am I, then?"
Kael didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Lyra.
"You too."
Lyra blinked. "I'm not part of her legacy."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "No, but you saw through glyph-wards built by the Founders. That takes more than raw talent."
Lyra's voice was firm. "I see things. That's all."
"No," Kael said. "You're beginning to see truths. And truths don't come without cost."
He turned and walked away, leaving the box between them.
"Begin."
Elsewhere – The Scriptorium
Deep in the Academy's west tower, behind layers of illusion, Headmistress Selene moved with cold purpose.
She entered a sealed chamber known only to the High Magisters—a place where the walls pulsed with preserved memory. A scriptorium of secrets.
At its center stood an orb of obsidian mist, chained in silver.
Selene approached it and spoke a single name.
"Kael Vire."
The orb shifted, scenes flickering across its surface. A boy surrounded by flames. A trial by fire. An exile marked in blood. A battlefield where seven magisters fell.
But then—an image new to her.
Rin, standing before a mirror. Chains of black flame wrapped around her arms.
The orb trembled.
"She's not ready," Selene whispered. "But the mirror chose her."
A whisper answered her from the mist.
"Then she must be forged. Or broken."
Training Grounds – Dusk
Rin sat cross-legged, the Ashbrand shard resting before her on a stone plate. Lyra knelt opposite, silent.
Neither had spoken in an hour.
Kael's instructions were maddeningly vague: "Reveal your truth to the flame." What did that even mean?
Rin exhaled and let her mind drift.
Not back to the Academy. Not to her instructors. But to before—to the orphanage near the ember mines, where fire wasn't a gift, but a punishment.
She remembered the first time her hands lit up.
How the matron screamed.
How they sealed her, five magisters in black robes, pinning her to cold stone. How the rune burned into her wrist.
And how no one asked if she was in pain.
They only asked if she was dangerous.
"I never wanted this," she whispered.
The Ashbrand shard flickered.
"I wanted to learn, not to burn."
A pulse. Warmer.
"I wanted to belong."
The shard glowed—bright red, then orange, then gold.
Lyra stepped back.
The stone beneath the shard cracked.
Rin opened her eyes. The fragment now floated, encircled in her fire. Not orange like before. Not even the controlled blue of Academy-trained mages.
This flame was wild. Black at the core. Red at the edges. And around it, whispers—inaudible, but present.
Kael appeared beside them.
"It answered you."
Rin looked to him, a question on her lips.
Kael nodded. "You're ready."
Interlude – The Shadow Court
Far from the Academy, deep beneath the northern mountains, a hooded conclave gathered. Candles flickered in red-glass sconces. Maps were spread across a table of bone.
At its head stood a figure cloaked in frost-mist, her eyes like frozen stars.
"They've awakened the Ashbrand," she said.
One of the others hissed. "The Obsidian Flame stirs again."
"We must move before it ignites," said another, voice like cracked glass.
The frost-eyed leader extended a hand. A projection shimmered—Kael, Rin, Lyra. Then the shattered mirror.
"They have opened the path. The Veil weakens."
Her hand closed into a fist.
"Begin the culling."
Academy Rooftop – Night
Later that night, Rin sat alone on the south spire, wind tugging at her cloak. The Ashbrand shard floated beside her, tethered to her mana like a second heartbeat.
Footsteps approached. Lyra.
"I felt it," she said quietly. "Whatever that shard is—it's alive."
Rin didn't look up. "It wants more from me."
Lyra sat beside her. "So do they."
Silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just aware.
"You saw something in the mirror, didn't you?" Lyra asked. "Something… wrong."
Rin nodded. "I saw myself. But not just me. A future. A war."
Lyra looked away. "I think that war's already begun."
Rin finally turned toward her.
"We're not ready."
"No," Lyra agreed. "But we don't get to wait."
Below them, in the darkened halls of the Academy, the torches flared blue for a heartbeat.
And something old—something sealed—began to stir.