🌤️ Morning After Fire
The academy was unusually quiet.
Gone were the usual training bell chimes, the crackling chants of early rituals, and the background hum of teenage spellflingers setting things on fire accidentally. The courtyard remained partially scorched from Rael's rooftop clash. A crater in the shape of a flaming serpent's coil was now officially declared "an unexpected art installation."
Rael walked the path to class, hands tucked into his sleeves, pretending not to notice the dozen tracking runes subtly etched into his shadow.
> "I'm flattered," he muttered to no one. "All this attention and not even a love letter."
---
🧿 The Watcher Charm
Halfway through spell-formation theory, Master Lira approached Rael's desk and placed a small wooden object beside his book.
It looked like a carved owl.
> "For your protection," she said.
Rael stared. "It's blinking."
"Correct. It's... magically attentive."
"You mean it spies."
She gave a polite smile. "Of course not. It merely... observes and alerts us if your behavior becomes concerning."
The owl blinked again.
Rael blinked back. "It's judging me."
"Good."
---
đź“ś Forbidden Library Assignment
That evening, as part of his "voluntary rehabilitation," Rael was assigned solo study time in the Old Archive Vault — a half-forgotten chamber buried beneath the west tower, once used to store failed scrolls, cursed manuscripts, and things best left unread.
Fayden, naturally, tried to come.
"Absolutely not," said Master Veylor, barring the door.
"But I'm his emotional support disaster," Fayden protested.
Rael gave him a faint smile. "I'll scream if I find anything exciting."
"You'll scream anyway, you do that."
Rael stepped inside, and the heavy stone door closed behind him.
---
🕯️ A Library Made of Whispers
The archive was huge.
Stacks reached the ceiling. Cobwebbed chains hung between shelves. Lanterns burned with blue flame, and scrolls whispered to each other in a dozen dead languages. Every breath of air tasted of dust, magic, and warning.
Rael walked slowly, fingers trailing over spines.
> Some of these were mine once, he thought.
He stopped before a locked drawer marked: Ashblood Lineage – Sealed by Order of the Nine.
He whispered a rune.
It didn't open.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Then, he placed his flamecore over the seal.
The drawer hissed. Glowed. And clicked open.
> "Always worked better with fire," he said.
Inside was a single page.
Burnt at the edges. But still readable.
---
đź“„ The Name Forgotten
It was a birth record.
A boy born in the capital of Solmar.
Name: Rael Solvane
Bloodmark: Ember-Linked, Tier Unclassified
Classification: Uncrowned
Order: Terminate on Awakening
Rael stared at the last line.
> They planned to kill me… before I even cast my first spell.
Then—behind him—a voice.
> "Reading your own obituary? A bit dark, don't you think?"
Rael spun.
Lady Sireya stood at the edge of the archive, hands clasped behind her back, watching with unreadable eyes.
---
✨ Tension Beneath the Sigils
"I assumed divine wardens weren't fond of basements," Rael said calmly.
Sireya stepped forward, gaze sharp.
"I thought we agreed to honesty."
"I didn't agree. I just stopped lying."
She glanced at the open drawer. "That file should have burned with the Halewyn purge."
Rael folded the page and tucked it into his cloak. "Lucky me."
Sireya's fingers tightened. "The gods will hunt you."
"They already are."
"They fear what you are."
Rael stepped closer. His voice dropped.
> "Good."
The blue flame lanterns around them flickered.
> Veyliss, Rael whispered inwardly. Are you sensing anything?
The serpent stirred faintly inside him.
> "…There's something beneath this floor. Something… ancient. Sleeping."
---
🪨 Secret Beneath the Archive
Rael's gaze shifted.
A worn glyph near the northeast wall glowed faintly as he passed — not with fire, but memory.
He stopped.
Kneeling, he brushed away old dust.
And there — a seal shaped like a six-pointed flame sigil, broken at the edges.
Not divine.
Not holy.
His.
From before.
> This place is one of mine.
---
🌌 Cliffhanger Ending: The Seal Stirs
Rael pressed a hand against the sigil.
The wall pulsed.
Dust fell.
The entire floor shifted an inch — not a quake, not a break, but a breath.
Something was waking up.
And just before the chapter ends, Rael hears it — a faint whisper only he can hear, carried through flame and time:
> "Welcome back, my king."
---
🔥 End of Chapter 9