The war drums began in a dream.
Low and steady, like thunder muffled beneath centuries of stone. Arin stood alone in the Tower of Embers, the sky outside soaked in crimson and gold, as if the sun bled across the horizon. It wasn't a real sunset. Not here. Not anymore.
Since awakening from the Memory Well, nothing felt the same.
Not the sky.
Not the air.
Not himself.
"You're changed," Liora said gently behind him.
Arin didn't turn. His fingers curled around the window's edge, watching the glow crawl over the spires of Umbraeth Academy. "He was in my blood. That's what the Raven King said. That I was already becoming him."
"Do you believe him?"
He finally turned to face her. "I believed the fear I saw in his eyes when I called the fire."
Liora's expression softened, but her shoulders were tense. She'd barely left his side since he returned eating only when he did, training twice as hard. Whatever guilt she carried from the Vault had hardened into steel.
"Then believe this," she said. "Whatever he was, whatever your blood carries you've made your own choice. That means more than fate."
Arin smiled faintly, then frowned. "Where's Avareth?"
"Meeting with the High Council. Something's coming. They've been arguing about it for hours."
As if on cue, the ancient bronze door creaked open.
Avareth entered, followed by Headmaster Corwin, Archmistress Talien, and two masked figures in robes woven with starlight thread the Arbiters of Flame.
Liora and Arin straightened.
"You called for us?" Arin asked, heart hammering. He felt the fire beneath his skin again the Echofire, the force he'd barely tapped into inside the Well. It slept now, but only lightly.
Corwin's voice was low. "The eastern border has fallen."
Arin blinked. "What border?"
"The Tempestrial Wall," Talien said. "A line of ancient magic that's held for centuries. Nothing has passed through since the Era of Splintering."
"Until now," Avareth added.
One of the Arbiters stepped forward. "Shadows walk the land again. Wraiths once bound to the Raven King's army. Somehow, something or someone has awakened them."
Arin's stomach turned cold.
"It's my fault," he whispered. "I opened the Vault. I triggered this."
Avareth's gaze hardened. "You opened a door. But they were already waiting. The war was coming with or without you."
"But now it's coming faster," Talien said. "And we don't have time for denial."
"Then what do we do?" Liora asked, her voice rising. "We're students, not soldiers."
The other Arbiter spoke. "Not anymore."
Avareth nodded. "The Council has voted. The senior apprentices will be drafted into the Dawnguard. That includes both of you."
Arin's blood ran hot. "You're sending us to war?"
"You are the war," Corwin said. "You, Arin, carry something none of us understand. A power ancient and wild. The Echofire chose you. Whether you want it or not."
Arin swallowed. "When do we leave?"
"Midnight."
Training began at dusk.
The open fields of Umbraeth Academy shimmered with spell barriers, dueling circles, and elemental arenas. Fire clashed with water. Wind split earth. Runes glowed along the students' arms like veins of light.
Arin stood in the center of the circular pit, Liora opposite him, a bladed staff in her hand. Around them, instructors barked orders and watchers observed from high seats.
"Again!" yelled Master Vael.
Liora rushed forward. Fast. Focused. Her blade hissed through the air. Arin ducked, countered with a flick of wind, but she rolled, slammed him with a burst of heat, and swept his legs out from under him.
He hit the ground hard.
"Too slow," she muttered, offering a hand. "You're overthinking it."
"I've got a death god whispering in my veins," he muttered. "I'm allowed to overthink."
She smirked.
He took her hand and stood.
"Again," Vael called. "This time, use the flame."
Arin hesitated.
He hadn't summoned it since the Well. Since the Raven King. The idea of calling it again made his skin crawl.
But then
Liora struck again.
Instinct screamed through him. Magic flooded his limbs. The Echofire erupted from his palm in a burst of silver-gold light, catching her staff mid-strike and blasting it away.
The crowd gasped.
Even Liora stumbled back, blinking. "Okay… maybe don't overthink that."
Later that night, Arin sat alone by the lake at the edge of the Academy, watching moonlight ripple over the surface. His hands still tingled from the training match.
The flame had answered. But not like before.
This time, it had whispered.
Not words. Not commands.
But memories.
Not his.
The Raven King's.
He saw glimpses brief flashes of a throne room burning, of a silver-haired woman screaming his name, of soldiers kneeling in ash.
He saw himself… dying.
Again and again.
"Can't sleep either?"
Liora's voice broke the silence.
She sat beside him, her cloak rustling.
"Did we make a mistake?" he asked softly.
"Which one?" she said with a dry smile.
"Coming here. Taking the Feather. Opening the Vault. Everything."
She didn't answer immediately.
Finally, she said, "Maybe. But if we hadn't… the shadows would still be coming. We just wouldn't have known."
They sat in silence.
Then Arin looked at her. "Thank you. For staying."
She looked surprised. "Of course I did."
"No, I mean… through everything. I've seen what I might become. I wouldn't blame you if you ran."
She took his hand. "Then it's a good thing I'm not a coward."
He laughed quietly.
The wind shifted.
And in the distance, the first warhorn blew.
Midnight.
The gates of Umbraeth opened.
Arin, Liora, and a dozen others stood in formation. Their robes replaced by Dawnguard armor leather enchanted with runes, reinforced by blood-ink and spellthread.
Avareth approached, a satchel of scrolls in hand.
"Your orders are sealed," she said. "You will travel to the Ashenfront. Protect the relic vault there. If it falls, we lose the only weapon that can contain the wraiths."
Arin stepped forward. "And what about the Raven King's army?"
"They're still forming. We believe a new warlord is rising someone using his name to gather the remnants. You must stop them before they awaken the Second Vault."
Arin nodded.
Then Avareth placed her hand on his shoulder. "One last thing. If the fire speaks again listen. It may not always be your enemy."
They left the Academy behind under a full moon.
As the gates shut behind them, Arin looked back one last time.
He didn't know if he would ever see Umbraeth again.
Didn't know if this journey would be the one that killed him.
But for the first time, the fire within didn't burn with fear.
It burned with purpose.
And far, far away, in a temple lost to time, a black crown stirred on its pedestal.
Waiting.
Watching.
And whispering.