Xandros - POV
Why did she have to come here?
She reminds me too much of who I used to be. Determined. Reckless. Eyes too bright for a world this cruel. It's laughable, really, how she walks like she doesn't carry a graveyard in her chest. But maybe she does. She is a demi-human after all. She's seen chains. Probably wore them. Maybe even broke them. That kind of strength doesn't come from comfort. And yet... she smiles. Even in her sleep gods, especially in her sleep she looks peaceful. Like the weight hasn't found her yet. She lies on the stone floor, cloak barely wrapped around her, breath slow, steady. There's the faintest curve to her lips, like she's dreaming of something worth holding onto. Me? No. That's ridiculous. And yet the thought lingers. Could it be... me? Could she be smiling because I agreed to mentor her? Because someone like me didn't turn her away? She caught me off guard during our sparring. That mist incantation... I hadn't felt confusion like that since Tch. Since back then. Back when I was nothing but a tool for them. A boy twisted by spells older than his name. Back when they told me feeling was a flaw. That mercy was weakness. That loyalty was poison. And yet here I am, watching over a girl I met yesterday as if the whole world would crumble if she bruised. She's dangerous. Not just in magic but in what she awakens. Hope. I had forgotten what that felt like. And I hate that she makes me remember. I should turn away. Go to sleep. Let the past stay buried. But the sight of her peaceful, and trusting rips the coffin wide open. You'll never protect her if you forget what made you a weapon. So I close my eyes... and let the memory take me.
Years Ago The Night It All Burned
The air smelled like blood and old parchment. That night, the halls of the Obsidian Order were silent too silent. No footsteps. No chanting. No screams from the lower cells. Just the flickering torchlight and the tension thick enough to choke on. I was seventeen. Stronger than most of the mages already. A prodigy, they said. A curse, I knew. They raised us like cattle, fed us lies, starved us of warmth, taught us spells that ate at the soul just to see who would survive. Only the cruelest were praised. The rest... discarded. But I had someone. Just one. Kael. My only friend. My only brother in that pit. We shared scraps, traded incantations, bled together in the ritual chambers. He was the only one who reminded me I still had a heart. That night, I found him bound in chains, carved with a sigil I didn't recognize one meant for offering. They were going to sacrifice him. Trade his soul for knowledge. For power. That was their truth. Our truth. The spell was already being prepared blood ink smeared across the stones, ancient words carved into the walls. And they expected me to help cast it. I remember standing in the circle. My hands trembling. The Grandmaster's voice echoing in my ears. "Do it. This is your ascension." Ascension? No. It was erasure. And I looked Kael in the eye. He didn't cry. He just smiled at me. "Run, Xandros," he whispered. "Burn it all down." So I did.
All I felt was rage. Not the kind that roared. No this was the kind that simmered, poisoned, bled into every breath. It crawled up my spine and cracked something open in me. In that moment, I didn't cast a spell. I became one. I remember screaming except I didn't. My soul did. And the magic listened. Words spilled from me, not from memory, but from grief: "Flammae furoris, ignis ultor Consumpsit omnia, nulla venia Amicitia perdita, innocentia caesa Mea ira, mundus tremat." (Flames of fury, fire of vengeance Consuming all, no mercy Friendship lost, innocence slaughtered My wrath, let the world tremble.) The academy ignited. Stone melted. Wood screamed. Screams turned to silence. I stood in the center, watching it all collapse. Watching the Obsidian Order burn beneath the very sigils they carved into our skin. I could have run. But I didn't. Instead, I whispered again, voice calm, clear, final: "Tenebrae mea, umbrae mea protectio mea, destructio tua, Academia perdota, amici caede, Mea Maledictio, in aeternum." (My darkness, my shadows, my protection, your destruction. Academy lost, friend slaughtered. My curse, forever more.) And the shadows listened. They rose like hounds from a pit, twisting, snarling, obeying me without question. They wrapped themselves around the others. Held them in place. One by one, the flames consumed them. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I watched. And I enjoyed it. Because they had taken Kael and that night, I took everything back.
Xandros - Present
I jolt from the memory, breath ragged, palms clenched. The flames are gone but their echo still lingers beneath my skin. And there she is. Sleeping. Smiling. Like the world has never tried to break her. It infuriates me. How is she sleeping like that? She's a demi-human. She's worn chains I can see it in her magic, feel it in the weight she carries when she walks. So why the hells does she still have joy left in her? Why isn't she bitter? Why isn't she like me? She should want to burn the world down. To tear it limb from limb and salt the ruins with her grief. Isn't that what pain teaches? But no. She smiles. And gods help me, part of me wants to protect that smile even as the rest of me wants to crush it for daring to exist. I turn away from her, jaw tight. Why did I say yes? Why did I take her in? Why didn't I chase her out like all the others? What's wrong with me? I don't have answers. Only fire. Only ghosts. Only the terrible feeling that for the first time in years... I might not be as alone as I thought.
Far Beyond the Snow and Ruins
Deep within the emerald chambers of Vael'Tharyn, the High Elven sanctuary of stars and song, silence reigned. The starlight dome above shimmered with constellations, glowing with threads of fate only the ancient could read. High Seer Aelith Viraeth, the last Starwatcher of her line, stood before the Astral Pool. Her silver hair billowed despite the still air, her pale eyes wide with dread as the vision unfolded. She gripped the edge of the pool. A creeping blackness spilled across the water shapeless at first, but hungry. It did not slither or surge. It seeped. A fog made of whispers and ancient blood. Magic turned against its own will. "Impossible..." she breathed. "That god was unmade." But the stars did not lie. She saw chains break. She saw a girl with silver eyes and a shadowed man standing at her back. And she saw the mist growing. Not summoned. Not commanded. Fed. By accident. By vengeance. By love. Aelith stumbled back from the pool, pressing a trembling hand to her lips. "The Black Mist rises," she whispered. "And the world does not yet know it is already too late."
Back to the ruins
Outside the broken temple, snow fell in hushed silence. But not all was still. A thin ribbon of black mist slithered along the edge of the forest barely more than a breath of shadow. It touched nothing. Made no sound. But where it passed, the frost withered and the air soured. It paused at the edge of the wards Xandros had cast. Tasted the magic. And lingered. Waiting. Inside, Ravenna dreamed without fear. And Xandros, though he would never admit it, stood watch. Unaware that a god had already found them.