The Halewyn crest shone on the iron gate as the carriage rumbled to a stop.
Rael looked up through the window. Beyond the bars stood towering gray spires, ivy-covered halls, and a sky so clouded it looked like the world itself was holding its breath.
> Verdant Flame Academy.
The lowest of the three arcane institutes tied to House Halewyn. A place for the unremarkable. The shamed. The forgotten.
He was fourteen.
Two years had passed since the Awakening Ceremony that named him Arcana blind. Whispers had followed him through the estate's corridors ever since. Servants avoided him. His father never looked him in the eye.
So when the letter came — assigning him to the least prestigious of the family's arcane schools — no one raised a brow.
No one except Rael, who accepted it without a word.
> The first fire starts with a single spark, he thought as the carriage door opened.
---
🏫 Arrival
"Name?" asked a bored registrar by the gate, flipping through a weather-worn ledger.
"Rael Halewyn," he replied.
The man blinked, surprised. "You're… that Halewyn?"
Rael smiled mildly. "The disappointment, yes."
The man chuckled awkwardly and gestured him through. "Dormitory Four. Room C. You're late for orientation. Try not to start fires."
> No promises, Rael thought.
The campus was smaller than the royal academies he remembered in his past life. Old walls. Cracked runes. Dust on statues of forgotten heroes.
But the magic was here.
It clung to the stones like ghosts. Faded, buried, weak—but alive.
Rael felt it thrum beneath his boots like a heartbeat.
---
🧑🎓 Dormitory Four
Room C was plain — a wooden bunk, a wash basin, a cracked window facing the courtyard. Dust covered the shelf beside his bed, but Rael wiped it clean carefully.
His roommate wasn't there yet.
He placed his satchel down, fingers brushing a cloth-wrapped bundle inside: an old book stolen from the Halewyn vaults. Blank to anyone else. But to Rael… it sang.
The Codex of the Drowned Flame. One of his last grimoires — sealed centuries ago by divine decree.
And tonight, it would whisper to him again.
---
👤 Orientation
The assembly was held in the outer courtyard — mossy stone benches and rune-cracked pillars surrounded a weathered statue of Saint Viren, the "Bringer of Discipline."
Around Rael, twenty or so students stood stiffly — all nobles from weak branches, merchant houses, or castoffs like him.
A lean man in red robes stepped forward.
"I am Master Veylor. Welcome to Verdant Flame Academy. You were sent here for one of two reasons: either your core is too weak to matter, or your family doesn't care if you disappear. I'm here to make sure you don't die until graduation."
No one laughed.
Rael didn't even blink.
> Direct. Efficient. I like him already.
"You'll attend lectures on Arcana Theory, Channeling, Ritual Mechanics, and Magical History. Combat lessons begin next moon. You'll be tested often. Fail, and you're out. No one cares who your parents are here."
Master Veylor's gaze swept the crowd. It lingered on Rael — then moved on.
"Dismissed."
---
🧑🤝🧑 The Roommate
Rael returned to find someone sitting cross-legged on the top bunk — chewing loudly on an apple.
He was small, sharp-featured, with dark skin, curled hair, and a quick, suspicious gaze.
"You're the Halewyn kid, right?" he said.
Rael nodded. "And you are?"
"Fayden. Bastard son of Lord Nyreth. They say I broke my half-brother's nose with a spoon. Might be true."
Rael blinked. "Spoon?"
Fayden grinned. "Silver. The pointy kind."
Rael smiled. "We'll get along."
Fayden dropped to the floor. "Just don't try to kill me in my sleep and we're good."
---
📜 That Night
Long after the bells rang and the halls fell silent, Rael lit a single candle and opened the stolen book.
Blank pages turned one by one until he whispered, "Solvane."
The ink bled upward from the paper like smoke forming runes. His sigil flared in red, then faded to coal black.
> "Welcome, Ashborne. What remains of your flame… still waits."
Rael read until the candle guttered out — studying seals, memory-recall incantations, and spirit-flame techniques.
His magic was still buried.
But he could feel it moving.
---
🐍 Trouble in the Halls
Over the next weeks, Rael kept a low profile.
He answered only when spoken to. He scored average on theory tests. He deliberately failed one alchemy quiz. But every night, he practiced alone — reading forbidden rites, meditating over coals, shaping silent fire sigils behind locked doors.
But trouble came anyway.
Always does.
It started when a third-year noble named Brannor Velcein decided Rael looked too "comfortable."
Brannor was tall, broad, smug — the son of a baron and addicted to displays of power.
"So, you're the Halewyn whelp without magic," Brannor said one evening outside the dining hall. "You must've bribed someone to stay in the Academy this long."
Rael met his gaze. "Or maybe I'm just smart enough to stay beneath notice."
"Oh?" Brannor grinned. "Let's fix that."
He raised his palm. Fire sparked from his fingertips — clumsy, loud, showy. The air sizzled.
Rael didn't move.
He didn't even flinch.
> This isn't fire. This is noise.
Then the flame sputtered. Flickered. Died.
Brannor blinked. "What the—?"
Rael had already turned away.
Behind him, an ancient rune smoldered faintly in the air — invisible to all but the one who placed it.
> You never burn what you can hollow.
---
🌙 End Scene: The Ember Awakens
That night, Rael stood on the Academy's tallest spire. The stars shimmered above like silent witnesses.
He pressed his fingers together and whispered a name long buried:
> "Veyliss… Flamebound Beast of Solvane… I call you."
Far below, in the cracked bones of the world, something turned in its slumber.
---
🔥 End of Chapter 3