They weren't supposed to be here.
That much was clear the moment Arin and Lyra stepped beyond the outer wards of the Academy, into the forest that surrounded it like a sleeping giant.
The moon followed them like a watchful eye. The air was heavy with unspoken warnings. Even the wind dared not whisper here.
This was the Blighted Path a trail that hadn't been used in decades, not since the Eclipse Rebellion nearly burned the Academy to the ground.
And yet, here they were.
Two students. A wanted boy. A hunted legacy. Walking into the dark to uncover secrets they were never meant to touch.
"Are you sure this is the only way?" Arin asked, his voice low.
Lyra didn't stop walking. "If we stay, they'll kill you slowly. If we leave, they'll hunt you quickly. But if we find what's inside that tower"
She stopped suddenly.
He followed her gaze.
There it was.
Half-hidden in mist and ivy, its ancient spires broken like jagged teeth, stood the Tower of Veyron—the place whispered about in older students' stories. Where banned spells were sealed. Where traitors were imprisoned. Where even ghosts feared to linger.
And it was glowing.
A faint blue shimmer danced along its stonework, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Arin's magic tingled in response.
"It's awake," he murmured.
Lyra nodded. "Then we don't have much time."
Inside the tower, the silence wasn't empty.
It watched them.
Every creaking floorboard. Every cobwebbed stair. Every rune etched into the stone all of it felt like part of something alive.
Something old.
Something hungry.
Arin ran his fingers along the wall. The magic here was dense. Heavy. It clung to him like wet cloth.
"It doesn't want us here," he said.
"It wants you," Lyra corrected. "It remembers you."
He turned to her, confused.
She pointed to a faded mural on the wall.
It showed a Flameborn wreathed in fire, standing atop a battlefield littered with corpses and broken towers.
"It's you," she whispered.
"No," he said quickly. "It can't be."
"It is. Or someone you were before."
They reached the core chamber.
It was massive circular, with a domed ceiling carved to look like the night sky. Floating candles illuminated the floor, which was covered in a glowing rune circle.
At its center: a pedestal.
And on it: a book.
Bound in silver. Locked with a clasp shaped like a phoenix.
Arin stepped closer.
"Don't touch it yet," Lyra warned. "That book is alive. It will test you."
But the book had already responded.
It unlocked.
The phoenix clasp blinked open with a burst of embers, and the pages began to turn on their own.
Arin was pulled forward not physically, but magically. The book called to him.
He placed a hand on the page.
And the world shifted.
He wasn't in the tower anymore.
He was falling through fire, through wind, through time.
Memories that weren't his flashed across his vision.
A throne room set ablaze.
A woman with silver eyes screaming his name.
Chains wrapped around his soul.
Magic that tore mountains apart.
A war that ended the age of Kings.
Then... silence.
And a voice.
"You are not ready."
Arin fell to his knees in the memory.
"But you are needed."
He gasped as the fire filled his lungs, and
He awoke with a gasp, back in the tower.
Lyra was shaking him. "Arin! Your nose"
He touched his face. Blood.
But the book was open in his hand. And its pages no longer turned themselves.
They obeyed him now.
He rose slowly. His legs shook.
"I saw... everything."
Lyra's eyes were wide. "You awakened it?"
He nodded. "I know who I was."
"And?"
"I was fire," he said simply. "And now I burn again."
They didn't have long to savor the victory.
The tower shuddered.
The floating candles extinguished one by one.
A cold wind blew through the walls.
Then a scream.
But not human.
It was high, shrieking, and filled with ancient pain.
Arin turned toward the doorway.
Something was coming.
No not something.
Someone.
The Night Raven had found them.
And this time, they weren't here to observe.
They appeared at the base of the stairs taller than before, surrounded by swirling shadows that hissed like snakes. Their mask had changed.
It now bore a crown of feathers.
Lyra stepped forward. "I'll hold them off."
Arin stared at her, stunned. "You'll die!"
"Not if you run fast enough."
"But I just got my power"
"And now you need to live long enough to master it. Go!"
He hesitated. Just for a second.
Then he ran.
The Raven didn't chase him.
Instead, they moved toward Lyra.
And she smiled.
"You should've killed him when you had the chance."
She raised her hands.
And unleashed violet fire that shook the stones.
Outside, Arin burst from the tower just as it exploded behind him.
Not fully destroyed but broken again. Wounded.
The flames lit up the night sky.
He fell to his knees, staring at the ruins, heart in pieces.
"Lyra..."
But something stirred behind him.
He turned, expecting danger.
But found the phoenix-shaped book floating before him, untouched by the blast.
It opened.
A single page flipped, revealing a name.
"Arin Valerius, Last Flameborn."
Beneath it, a line glowed:
"He who is hunted… shall become the hunter."