The Raven King.
The name clung to the air like smoke ancient, forbidden, echoing in Arin's thoughts long after they'd left the Headmistress's chambers.
He and Liora walked silently down the stone corridor, the echo of their footsteps drowned by the weight of what they'd just heard.
"So…" Liora finally said, her voice low, "you're the last of the Bloodbound. A descendant of the Raven King."
Arin didn't answer right away. He couldn't. His thoughts were spiraling about the visions, the Vault, the glowing feather, and now this… a legacy he didn't ask for.
"I don't want to be him," Arin muttered.
"You're not," she said firmly. "You're you. And maybe that's exactly what we need."
Arin stopped walking. "But what if I can't stop him? What if the Raven King… takes me over?"
She faced him squarely. "Then I'll stop you."
He blinked, surprised.
"I'll stop you," she repeated. "Even if it kills me."
There was no anger in her tone just fierce loyalty and a fire he'd come to rely on. He nodded slowly.
That night, Arin didn't sleep again. Not because of the nightmares but because something was changing.
The feather on his desk now floated above the surface of the warded box, spinning slowly, shedding a faint glow like dying starlight. The mark on his arm pulsed in rhythm.
It was calling again.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
From the edge of his window, a raven perched in silence. Its feathers shimmered with streaks of silver, its eyes glowing softly with that same ancient power. It tilted its head, watching him.
Arin opened the window, and instead of flying away, the raven stepped inside.
It landed on his desk, beside the feather and the glow intensified.
Then, in a whisper only he could hear:
"The veil thins. The King stirs. Find the crown."
The next morning, the Academy was buzzing.
Rumors had spread about strange noises underground, and a few students swore they saw shadows slithering beneath the Great Hall's floor. One first-year fainted after spotting a symbol appear in her dormitory mirror an identical raven mark.
Arin and Liora were summoned again this time not by the Headmistress, but by the Council of Elders.
An emergency session had been called.
The chamber beneath the library ruins was rarely used its stone pillars carved with names of every archmage since the founding of the Academy. There were only five elders, seated in a circle of flame. Avareth stood in the center, awaiting them.
"Arin Veyr," one of the elders intoned. "You carry the Raven's Mark, yes?"
He nodded.
"And you've entered the Vault?"
Another nod.
"Then we must act quickly," said another, this one with eyes clouded by age and power. "The signs have returned. The magic of the old world is awakening again. If the Raven King rises "
"He won't rise," Arin interrupted, surprising even himself. "I won't let him."
The fire between the elders flared, as if responding to his words.
"You are his heir," the third elder said. "You cannot fight what you are."
"Then I'll rewrite what I am," Arin said. "I may carry his blood, but I choose who I become."
A tense silence fell over the room.
Finally, Avareth stepped forward. "We'll give him one chance. A trial."
Liora's eyes widened. "What kind of trial?"
"The Path of Remembrance," Avareth said grimly. "He will enter the memory well and confront the lives of those who came before him. If he can endure it if he survives we'll know if he can bear the burden."
"And if I don't survive?" Arin asked.
Avareth didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
That night, under the light of twin moons, Arin stood before the Memory Well an ancient pool of water hidden deep within the Academy's oldest tower.
Liora stood beside him, silent.
"I'm ready," he said.
"You'd better come back," she whispered.
He gave a faint smile. "I always do."
Then he stepped into the water.
Cold. Silent. Infinite.
The world dissolved.
He opened his eyes and stood on a battlefield soaked in blood.
Thousands of soldiers lay dead. Raven banners flew high. Magic crackled across the sky like shattered stars.
And at the center of it all…
A man in black armor.
A crown of shadows.
The Raven King.
He turned slowly. And when he saw Arin, he smiled.
"You made it," the king said. "I've waited a long time… for myself."
Arin's breath caught.
Because the face staring back at him… was his own.