The wind whispered through the hills as Auron walked the dirt path leading away from Velden. His sword, still nameless, was strapped to his back beneath a gray cloak. His mother had kissed his forehead before dawn. His father had said nothing — just nodded and handed him a small carving of a flame: the crest of their family.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough.
Auron didn't know exactly where he was going, only that the dreams were pulling him north. Toward the old kingdoms. Toward the place where he had once died.
The City of Emberlight
Three days passed.
By the end of the fourth, he reached a city unlike anything he had ever seen.
It was built into a canyon of glowing red stone, with bridges stretched between cliffs, and massive towers etched with ancient sigils. Waterfalls poured from the cliffs into glowing reservoirs. Lanterns floated through the air like fireflies, each one powered by magic.
This was Emberlight — the capital of the Arkenian Province.
Auron's eyes widened as he walked through the southern gate. Everywhere, people bustled — merchants selling potions, knights sparring in courtyards, mages floating scrolls mid-air, and mechanical creatures crawling on rooftop rails.
And at the heart of it all, rising above the clouds like a broken mountain, stood the legendary…
Emberlight Academy — a training ground for those born with magic, power, and fate in their blood.
The Invitation
Auron had barely reached the outer plaza when he was stopped by a figure in white robes.
A woman, sharp-eyed and young, with silver armor on her arms and a staff shaped like a serpent. She looked him up and down.
"You're not from the city."
"No," Auron replied. "I'm from Velden. Far south."
"Name?"
"…Auron."
Her gaze narrowed. "You're carrying an unregistered enchanted weapon."
Auron stiffened.
The woman held out a glowing card. "You're lucky. There's an open evaluation today at the Academy. All untrained magic-wielders must be assessed."
"I didn't come to join the Academy," he said quickly.
Her eyes flicked to the sword on his back. "Your blade says otherwise."
The Trial of Sparks
That afternoon, Auron stood in a circular arena built of rune-stone, surrounded by high seats filled with students and teachers. The sun beamed down from above, caught in shimmering shields.
A dozen other youths were there, many older than him. Some had trained for years. Others wore noble crests or royal marks.
Auron was just… a blacksmith's son.
Or so they thought.
The head examiner — a tall man with robes of red flame and a blade of molten glass — stepped forward.
"This is the Trial of Sparks," he announced. "You will each face a summoned illusion from your deepest fear. Survive, and you may enter."
He raised his hand. The arena floor glowed. One by one, the youths stepped forward. Some screamed and failed. Others barely survived.
Then it was Auron's turn.
The Demon's Shadow
As he entered the circle, the examiner raised his hand.
"Let the fear rise."
Smoke billowed around Auron's feet.
And suddenly… the sky turned black.
He was standing on the battlefield again — bodies burned, the air thick with ash. And from the flames rose a twisted, massive shadow…
The Demon Boss.
Not an illusion.
Not a fake.
It was him. His eyes glowed red with hatred. His wings spread wide.
"You again," it whispered. "Didn't I already kill you?"
Auron's heart thundered — but he didn't retreat.
He drew his sword.
The hilt flared with light.
And for the first time, it spoke back to him:
⚡ Name Awakened: Raivelt — Blade of the Stormborn ⚡
Lightning exploded from the blade as it fully formed — long, sharp, alive. Auron swung once, and the illusion shattered into blinding light.
The arena was silent.
Then… roaring applause.
New Allies. New Enemies.
That evening, Auron was accepted into the Academy.
But not everyone was happy.
Among the spectators had been a cloaked girl with violet eyes and a scar over her brow. She watched Auron with a narrowed gaze.
Beside her stood a tall boy in dark red armor, arms crossed.
"Is that him?" he asked.
The girl nodded.
"That's the Lightborn," she said. "The one who escaped death."