The world stopped breaking.
It held.
Crimson light poured from Ashen Rowan like a second pulse, bathing the shattered interrogation chamber in blood-red glow. The walls groaned but did not collapse. The floor cracked—but carefully, as if the building itself were choosing how much damage to allow.
Ashen stood at the center of it all, arms slack at his sides, eyes unfocused.
He wasn't screaming anymore.
That terrified everyone.
The intruder watched him with open fascination, silver-red blood still steaming where it had touched the sigils.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Even untrained, you regulate instinctively."
The principal staggered back, bracing himself against a fractured wall.
"That level of control is impossible," he rasped. "He's sixteen."
The intruder smiled without humor.
"He's older than that," he said. "Just… buried."
Ashen's vision split.
Two worlds overlaid each other—the ruined chamber and another place beneath it.
A vast underground hall. Chains of light binding a throne of black stone. Sigils layered so densely they hurt to look at.
And him.
Older. Taller. Eyes burning crimson.
Ashen gasped as the vision snapped into place.
"No," he whispered. "That's not me."
The intruder finally looked at him fully.
"It is," he said gently. "The part they were afraid of."
The containment officers regrouped, raising their weapons again. One of them shouted an order Ashen didn't hear.
Time slowed.
Ashen saw it before it happened—the trigger pull, the energy bolt tearing through the air, aimed not at him but at the intruder's back.
Wrong choice.
The bolt never landed.
Ashen's hand moved.
He didn't remember deciding to raise it.
The energy froze midair, humming violently, trapped inches from the intruder's cloak.
Ashen stared at it, stunned.
"I didn't—"
The intruder laughed softly.
"You're learning."
Ashen closed his fingers.
The bolt unraveled, threads of power dissolving into nothing.
The officers froze.
Fear rolled off them in waves.
The principal looked at Ashen—not with suspicion now, but something closer to grief.
"You don't understand what you are," the principal said. "What you could become."
Ashen turned to him, crimson light reflecting in his eyes.
"Then tell me," Ashen said. "Because no one ever has."
Silence stretched.
The intruder broke it.
"They erased your bloodline because it wouldn't kneel," he said. "Because it ruled without permission. Because it frightened gods and kings alike."
Ashen shook his head.
"My parents—"
"Loved you," the intruder cut in. "Enough to die for your sleep."
The words hit harder than any attack.
Ashen's chest tightened painfully.
"They sealed you," the intruder continued. "Split your inheritance. Bound your memories. Left you human enough to survive."
The principal's voice cracked.
"We saved him."
The intruder turned, eyes burning.
"You caged him."
Ashen's breathing grew uneven.
"You're lying," Ashen said, though the certainty was slipping.
The intruder stepped closer—but stopped an arm's length away, respecting a boundary no one else seemed to see.
"Ask your blood," he said softly. "It won't lie to you."
Ashen swallowed.
For the first time in his life, he stopped resisting the pull inside his chest.
Answer me.
The response was immediate.
Pain flared—but clarity came with it.
Memories bled through.
Hands—his mother's—pressing sigils into his skin as she cried.
His father standing between him and a circle of executioners, smiling despite the blood.
A voice chanting a binding older than language.
Sleep.
Ashen staggered, knees buckling.
The intruder caught him before he hit the ground.
The principal shouted, power surging—
And Ashen reacted.
Not with force.
With command.
"Stop."
The word echoed.
Every spell in the room halted mid-cast.
The principal froze, eyes wide.
The intruder stilled too—then slowly smiled, pride flickering across his face.
"There it is," he said. "The voice of the blood."
Ashen pulled free, standing on his own.
His hands shook.
"I didn't choose this," he said hoarsely. "Any of it."
The intruder nodded.
"No," he agreed. "But you can choose now."
He gestured toward the broken chamber, the shattered academy beyond.
"Come with me," he said. "Learn what you are before they decide it for you again."
The principal stepped forward, desperation plain.
"If you leave," he said, "you confirm every fear we ever had."
Ashen looked between them.
The man who hid him.
The man who hunted him.
And the truth burning inside his veins.
The academy trembled again—systems failing, wards collapsing.
Time was running out.
Ashen closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the crimson light dimmed—compressed, folding inward like a blade sheathed.
"I'm not going anywhere with either of you," Ashen said quietly.
Both men froze.
"I'll learn the truth," Ashen continued. "But on my terms."
The intruder laughed—sharp, delighted.
The principal exhaled, something like relief and dread tangled together.
Ashen stepped back, power coiled tight beneath his skin.
"Because if you try to cage me again," he said, eyes burning softly, "I won't sleep."
The intruder bowed his head slightly.
"As expected," he said. "He's awake enough to be dangerous."
The academy's alarms finally died.
But far beyond BloodBorn Academy, forces that had felt the awakening were already moving.
And Ashen Rowan stood at the center of it—unclaimed, unbroken, and no longer ignorant.