Cyrus lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling above. The dim moonlight filtering through the high window cast soft beams across the room, painting patterns that seemed to dance as his eyes grew heavy. To his left, Dale was already half-asleep, his eyes fluttering shut, while Teef on the right lay with his hands behind his head, gazing up in thought.
"Do you ever wonder what it's all for?" Teef's voice pierced the quiet, breaking through the comforting stillness like a stone dropped into still water. The words lingered, heavy, as if they carried more weight than the silence they had shattered.
Cyrus blinked, the question pulling him out of the fog of his own thoughts. He turned his head slightly, catching the distant look in Teef's eyes as he stared at the ceiling. "What do you mean?"
Teef exhaled slowly, his breath barely audible over the soft creak of the beds. "All of it—the training, the missions, the tournaments we're always preparing for. Do you think... we'll ever do something that matters? Something real?" His voice had an edge to it, not quite bitter but filled with a quiet desperation, like he was searching for something he wasn't sure existed.
The question hung in the air, heavier now. Dale stirred beside them, half-asleep but enough in the conversation to mumble, "We're surviving, aren't we? If we can survive this, we can do anything."
But Teef didn't seem convinced. He kept staring upward, his voice softening, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to anyone else. "Surviving isn't the same as living, though, is it? We train, we fight, we do what they tell us... but does it really mean anything? Does any of it last?"
Cyrus felt the words hit somewhere deep inside him, stirring up thoughts and doubts he hadn't allowed himself to face. He didn't answer right away, letting Teef's question settle in the quiet. Does any of it last? Cyrus didn't know the answer. All he knew was that the future felt uncertain, and in the world they lived in, nothing seemed to be permanent—least of all the people they cared about.
Cyrus let out a small chuckle, a rare sound that barely broke past his lips. He returned his gaze upward, losing himself in the intricate web of thoughts that seemed to tug at his weary mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting Teef's words echo softly, as sleep began to pull at him. The world around him faded slowly, and he drifted into a strange, dark quietness.
The silence gave way to a vision, abrupt and vivid, unlike any dream he'd had before. Cyrus was no longer in his bed but seated on a towering blackened throne, his body wrapped in cold power. His hands gripped the twisted arms of the throne with ease—strong, commanding—like he had always belonged there. Flames, black and blue, roared around him, licking at the scorched earth below, their eerie glow casting shadows that seemed to bow at his feet.
The ground beneath him pulsed with electric energy, currents crackling and racing in jagged patterns as thunder rumbled overhead. The sky was a churning mass of dark clouds, angry and alive, pouring sheets of rain that hissed as they struck the inferno around him. Cyrus felt the power deep within him, surging through every vein, feeding the storm, feeding the darkness. It was intoxicating, consuming. And it whispered promises he couldn't ignore.
He threw his head back, laughter bubbling from his chest—a sound so foreign, so deep, and twisted, that it echoed across the shattered landscape like a declaration of his reign. Around him, bodies lay scattered in broken heaps, the forms of people he knew—friends, peers, even his professors from Ebonspire. Each lifeless body passed before his gaze like a twisted trophy. He recognized their dead eyes, their frozen expressions of pain and fear: Dale, Teef, Magnus Solis—all of them defeated, their empty faces staring up at him as though they'd never stood a chance.
And in that moment, Cyrus felt nothing but cold satisfaction. The power he wielded was absolute, undeniable. He could feel it coursing through him, whispering to him that this was his destiny—to control, to conquer, to destroy. The weight of that power was overwhelming, and yet... exhilarating. He had never felt so invincible, so untouchable. The flames around him roared louder, as if to echo the authority that now surged beneath his skin. This was the path laid out for him, a path of absolute domination. And for a terrifying moment, he wanted it.
But even as the laughter filled the air, a flicker of doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. Was this truly what he wanted? The bodies, the destruction... the emptiness that followed? The hollow satisfaction began to feel fragile, like it could crack and shatter at any moment. But the power—it was so intoxicating, so easy to let it drown everything else.
The vision grew more vivid, crueler, as he saw the moments of their deaths. Dale, struck down by a monstrous orc, his eyes wide with fear. Teef, caught in a storm of flames, reaching out for help that never came. Magnus Solis, standing defiantly before being overwhelmed by dark magic, his last breath a silent challenge. Each memory, each death, tore at Cyrus, yet he found himself unmoved, his heart cold and unfeeling as he watched the life leave their eyes.
Armies surrounded the throne—hordes of demons, monstrous orcs with weapons forged in fire, all knelt before him. They were his to command, bound by his will and the sheer weight of his presence. He felt the strength of them, their power beneath his fingertips, the surge of authority that made him the master of this nightmarish dominion.
And then, in the midst of the storm, amidst the chaos and death, Cyrus saw something else—something that did not belong. A warm light, soft and pure, began to cut through the darkness. It moved toward him, slowly at first, but growing brighter, more radiant, pushing against the shadows.
The armies, the demons, the flames—they all seemed to recoil as the light approached. Cyrus squinted against the glare, confusion clawing at him, the satisfaction and laughter dying in his throat. His heart pounded as the warmth enveloped him, and the figure within the light became clear.
Ella.
She walked toward him, her form shimmering in the radiant glow. Her eyes, full of kindness and something Cyrus had long forgotten—hope—locked onto his. Her voice, gentle yet firm, spoke over the crackle of flames and the roar of thunder. "Cyrus, this is not who you are. This is not who you have to be."
He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, the weight of the throne pressing down on him, the cold grip of power anchoring him in place.
"Set yourself free," she said, her voice echoing, wrapping around him like a melody from a time before the darkness. Her hand reached out to him, bridging the distance between the throne and her light. "If you stay on this path, this is what you will become. But it's not too late."
Cyrus' vision blurred, his heart pounding as confusion filled him. "Ella?" he finally managed, his voice sounding small, fragile, almost swallowed by the chaos around him. "How... how do I change this?"
Ella's smile was soft, and her eyes seemed to shine even brighter. "You already know the answer, Cyrus. It's within you. You have to choose." Her words hung in the air, a promise and a plea, as the vision around him began to fracture, the throne crumbling, the flames flickering, and the sky splitting apart like glass.
Cyrus tried to reach out to her, his fingers brushing against the warmth of her light—but then everything shattered, plunging him into darkness once again. The warmth faded, and he felt the cold grip of reality pulling him back.
Suddenly, he jolted awake, his heart pounding, his breaths ragged. The ceiling of the dorm room stared back at him, the familiar shadows cast by the moonlight offering none of the comfort they once had. Dale and Teef were still there, breathing softly in their sleep, oblivious to the world Cyrus had just seen.
He closed his eyes, his hands trembling slightly. Ella's words echoed in his mind—a warning, a chance, a choice that was his alone to make.
Cyrus found his thoughts drifting to Dale and Teef. The warmth of their friendship, the way they laughed together, the way they supported each other—it was all so foreign to him. He had never known what it meant to have friends, not in the way they seemed to. The closest he had ever come was Ella, but even that was different. Ella had been a guiding light, someone who had shown him kindness, but it wasn't the same as the bond he saw forming with Dale and Teef. Was this what it meant to have friends? To have people who cared about you without expecting anything in return?
The idea made him uneasy. Cyrus wasn't used to relying on others, wasn't used to letting his guard down. The Crow's End had taught him to be self-sufficient, to trust no one but himself. And yet, here he was, feeling a flicker of something he couldn't quite name—something that made him want to protect Dale and Teef, to keep them safe from the darkness that threatened to consume him.
But could he really be a friend to them? Could he allow himself to care, knowing the darkness that lurked within him, knowing the vision of what he might become? Cyrus feared that if he let them get too close, they would end up like the bodies in his vision—lifeless, broken, because of him.
Cyrus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew he couldn't simply ignore what he had seen. The darkness he had embraced, the power he wielded—it wasn't just a tool; it was a path, one that could lead him to either triumph or ruin. He needed to understand what Ella meant, to find a way to make the right choice, even when the shadows pulled at him.
Quietly, Cyrus pushed back the covers and sat up. He glanced over at Dale and Teef, their faces peaceful in sleep, untouched by the horrors that haunted his dreams. He knew he couldn't afford to let them, or anyone else, see the doubts that were now growing inside him. Slowly, he stood, careful not to make a sound, and moved toward the window.
The cool night air brushed against his face as he opened it slightly, staring out at the vast expanse of the academy grounds. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow that contrasted with the darkness still clinging to his thoughts.
"Set yourself free," Ella's words echoed again, resonating deep within him. He didn't know if he could, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't let the vision become his reality. He couldn't let the darkness consume him entirely.
Cyrus closed the window quietly and returned to his bed. He lay back down, his eyes fixed on the ceiling once more. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, but for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of something other than power in his heart—something warm, something hopeful.
Maybe, just maybe, he could still choose a different destiny.
The next morning, Cyrus, Teef, and Dale found themselves in the Defense Magic class, sitting among their fellow students in the wide training hall. The room was filled with the buzz of conversation, the excitement of a new day of training mingling with the anxiousness of the students. At the front of the room stood Thaddeous, the Defense Magic instructor, his presence commanding attention. He was a tall, stern man with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce right through anyone who dared to misbehave.
"Alright, settle down, everyone," Thaddeous called, his voice echoing across the hall. The students quickly quieted, their eyes turning toward him. "Today, we'll be going over some basic defense spells, focusing on counterattacks. These spells will help you defend yourself effectively and, when needed, turn the tide against an aggressor."
Thaddeous paced slowly in front of the class, his eyes sweeping over the students. "Many of you already know these spells, but remember, mastery comes through repetition. You need to be able to cast these without hesitation. In a real fight, hesitation will get you killed."
He gestured to a training dummy at the far end of the hall, and with a flick of his wrist, a shimmering shield appeared around it. "The first spell we'll practice is a basic shield charm. This charm will allow you to deflect minor attacks and set yourself up for a counterstrike. Watch closely."
Thaddeous demonstrated the spell, his movements smooth and deliberate. The shield shimmered brightly before dissipating. He turned back to the class. "Now, pair up and practice. Remember, precision is key."
Cyrus found himself paired with Dale, while Teef partnered with another student nearby. As they faced each other, Cyrus could feel the eyes of the other students on him. He knew why—they had all seen him compete in the in-house tournament. They knew he was capable of far more than the average student, and that expectation weighed heavily on him.
Dale grinned at him, his usual easygoing demeanor shining through. "Ready to show me how it's done, oh great champion?"
Cyrus smirked, raising his hand. He wasn't holding back as much as he used to, and it felt both liberating and dangerous. He cast the shield charm effortlessly, the shimmering barrier forming between him and Dale. Dale tried to break through it with a counterspell, but Cyrus deflected it with ease, his reflexes sharp and his magic precise.
Thaddeous watched from a distance, nodding in approval as he saw Cyrus' display of skill. "Good, Cyrus. Remember, it's not just about power; it's about control. Keep that balance."
The class continued with different exercises, each student working diligently on their spells. Cyrus could feel the magic flowing through him more freely than before, and he couldn't help but think of Ella's words. Control. Choice. He had to find a way to use his power without letting it consume him.
As the lesson drew to a close, Thaddeous clapped his hands sharply, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the students. "Alright, that's enough for today. Before you leave, listen carefully—this is important."
The room fell silent, and Thaddeous's gaze swept over the group, his eyes hard, more serious than usual. A shadow seemed to hang over him, and even the brightest students who usually sat comfortably now sat a little straighter, sensing something was wrong.
"There have been reports," Thaddeous began, his voice low, measured, "of increased activity outside the academy grounds. Strange sightings, movements in the dark. Things that shouldn't be there."
The air in the room seemed to chill. Cyrus felt a tightening in his chest as Thaddeous continued.
"Guard patrols have been doubled," Thaddeous said, his tone flat but carrying a weight that made every word feel heavier. "And for good reason. The city's been... uneasy. There's talk of creatures in the shadows—creatures that haven't been seen for years. They're not just rumors. Our scouts have confirmed some of these sightings."
He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in. The students exchanged uneasy glances, and a hushed murmur swept through the room. Dale shifted beside Cyrus, his usual carefree expression clouded with concern.
"Whatever's out there," Thaddeous continued, his eyes narrowing, "it's not to be taken lightly. We don't know what or who is behind it, but it's dangerous—more dangerous than anything you've faced in class. The city isn't as safe as it was, and even within these walls, you need to stay alert."
Cyrus swallowed hard, the tension in the room settling in his stomach like a lead weight. He could see the concern mirrored on the faces of his friends. Teef's hand clenched the edge of his desk, and Dale's usually relaxed posture had stiffened.
Thaddeous's voice grew quieter but no less intense. "Do not leave the academy grounds without authorization. And if you do—if you absolutely must—do not wander alone. Stick to the main paths, stay with a group, and stay out of the alleys. There's something lurking in the shadows, and it's waiting for those foolish enough to walk into the dark."
The silence in the room was thick, the usual buzz of post-lesson chatter completely stilled. Cyrus's mind raced, his thoughts flashing back to the vision he'd had the night before—the storm, the bodies of his friends, the dark power that had coursed through him. Could this be connected? Was this the same threat he had felt growing in his dreams?
Thaddeous's expression softened, just slightly. "Remember, your safety is our priority, but you have to be responsible for yourselves, too. The academy can protect you from many things, but we can't protect you from what you choose to do on your own."
He clapped his hands once more, signaling the end of the class. "Dismissed."
As the students began to file out, hushed voices buzzing around them, Cyrus stayed back for a moment, feeling the weight of Thaddeous's warning settle over him like a cloak. There was something more out there, something darker than anyone wanted to admit, and now, it was no longer just rumors—it was real.
Cyrus exchanged a glance with Dale and Teef as they gathered their things. Dale's usual grin was replaced with a frown. "Increased activity, huh? Think it has anything to do with what's been going on lately?"
Cyrus shook his head, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "I don't know. But we should be careful. We can't afford to take any risks right now."
Teef nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's stick together. Whatever's out there, we'll face it."
Cyrus forced a smile, the easy banter and camaraderie of Teef and Dale providing a temporary balm to the tension coiled tight within him. For a moment, it felt like he belonged—like he was part of something bigger than himself. They laughed, joked, and fought like brothers, and he wanted so badly to believe that this was real, that he wasn't just playing a part in someone else's game.
But as the laughter faded into quiet, the weight of his role settled back onto his shoulders. He was their friend, yes, but also something more—something darker. He had power that none of them truly understood, and secrets that, if revealed, could shatter the trust they placed in him. Could they ever truly rely on him? Or was he destined to stand on the outside, always protecting them from a distance, hiding the parts of himself that might make him the enemy?
He watched them now, Teef's easy smile and Dale's confident swagger, and felt the gulf between them grow. They didn't see it, couldn't see it—the invisible barrier that kept Cyrus apart, the part of him that had been forged in shadows. He wanted to let them in, to be the friend they deserved, but the darkness inside him whispered otherwise. What if they knew the truth? What if the power he wielded turned against them one day, and they became just like the bodies in his visions?
His smile faltered as he tried to push the thought aside. For now, this was enough. For now, he could pretend. But in the back of his mind, the uncertainty lingered. Could he truly let them in, or was he fated to keep pushing them away to protect them from himself? The question gnawed at him, casting a shadow over the bond they had forged, leaving him wondering how long he could hold onto something that felt so fragile.
Later that day, as the trio made their way out of the training hall, they were approached by Layla, Thalon, and Siera. Layla waved them over, her eyes bright with excitement. Thalon stood beside her, his arms crossed and expression tight, like he was bracing for trouble. Behind them, Siera leaned casually against the wall, her smile warm, but her eyes scanning their surroundings with a sharpness that set Cyrus on edge.
"Hey, you three," Layla greeted, her voice filled with excitement, though there was an edge to it. "We've got something interesting to share, but... it's risky."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Risky how?"
Thalon nodded, glancing at Cyrus, his voice low and serious. "There's a rumor going around the academy. Some guy in the city markets claims he knows who summoned the orcs. Most people are brushing him off as a lunatic, but... it might be worth checking out."
Layla's eyes sparkled with curiosity, but her usual playfulness was tempered by caution. "Yeah, and it's been ages since we've left the academy grounds. But I get it—this isn't some fun little field trip. If this guy knows something, we need to be ready for anything. It could be a trap, or worse."
A prickle of unease ran down Cyrus's spine as the words settled. He exchanged a look with Dale and Teef. There was hesitation on their faces, mirroring the uncertainty twisting inside him. The academy grounds were safe, familiar. Out there, beyond the walls, was chaos—unpredictable and dangerous.
Teef scratched his head, frowning. "I don't know... sounds like it could be a wild goose chase. And you heard Thaddeous—there's something out there. He wouldn't warn us for nothing."
Dale, usually the adventurous one, didn't immediately jump at the idea. His smirk faded, replaced by a more somber expression. "Yeah... but what if this guy really does know something? If there's even a chance we could get ahead of this, we should at least check it out. We can't keep waiting for the next attack to hit us in the face."
Cyrus's gut twisted as he weighed their words. The thought of walking into the city, into the unknown, filled him with a creeping dread. The vision from the night before still hung over him, the memory of his friends lying lifeless in the darkness. Could he risk leading them into danger?
Layla glanced between them, her expression softening as she caught the tension in the air. "Look, I get it. But we can't afford to sit back and do nothing. If there's even a hint of truth to this, we need to act. Together."
Siera spoke up then, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of warning. "She's right. If this guy knows anything, it's better we find out now than wait for another attack. But we don't go in unprepared. We stay together, watch each other's backs. One wrong move, and it could go south fast."
Cyrus clenched his fists, his mind racing. He knew she was right, but the weight of the decision felt heavier than ever.
The vision flashed before his eyes again—the lifeless bodies, the power surging through him, uncontrollable and destructive. Could he trust himself to protect them, or was he leading them into a nightmare they wouldn't escape?
Finally, he nodded, his voice steady but his stomach knotted with tension. "Alright. But we stay alert. If anything feels off, we pull back. No heroics."
Dale's grin returned, though there was still a flicker of doubt behind his eyes. "Deal. But let's hope it's not another crazy conspiracy theory."
Teef shrugged, though his usual laid-back attitude was strained. "Just remember, guys, we're stepping into the unknown here. Thaddeous was right to warn us."
As they made their plans, the air between them was thick with unspoken fears. This was no ordinary investigation—this was the beginning of something bigger, something darker. And as they prepared to leave the safety of the academy, Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking straight into a trap.
Cyrus took a deep breath, a mix of apprehension and determination settling in his chest. Maybe this was what he needed—to step out, to face the uncertainty, and to learn what it truly meant to have friends by his side.