Kael knelt in the dirt, his fingers tracing the charred outline of a foundation stone. The wind, thick with the cloying sweetness of burnt pine and the ghost of old sorrow, tugged at his tattered cloak, but he remained motionless.He could still hear the screams.His mother's voice, sharp with panic. "Kael, run!" The guttural snarls of the beast that had clawed through their cottage. He could still taste the air of that night—a gritty mix of smoke and iron that clung to the back of his throat—as he'd huddled in the root cellar, his small hands clenched into useless fists."I'm sorry," he whispered, lighting a candle with trembling hands. The flame flickered defiantly against the dusk. "I'll get stronger. I swear."Strong enough to protect. Strong enough to never feel powerless again.A crow cawed. Kael's gray eyes narrowed.Crows don't fly here. Not since the attack.He stood, brushing dirt from his patched academy robes, and paused. The horizon blurred where the Ashen Wastes met the glittering spires of Eldermyst Academy. For a moment, he stood poised on the edge of a precipice, one foot planted in the ashes of his past, the other dangling over the glittering abyss of a future that seemed determined to reject him."Blood of the Ashes… the Nexus stirs."Kael whipped around, dagger drawn. But there was nothing. Only the candle's flame, now burning an unnatural violet.Violet flames. The memory tugged at him—something his mother had once whispered about. A legend, a warning. But the details slipped away like smoke.Eldermyst Academy loomed like a gilded prison.Kael slipped through the wrought-iron gates, sidestepping a gaggle of students laughing over steaming cups of starroot tea. Their robes shimmered with embroidered sigils—House Blackthorn, House Solwyn—the old bloodlines that ruled the magical world. A marble statue of the academy's founder glared down at him, its stone eyes tracking his every step.He felt the weight of their gazes, sharp and assessing. Outsider. Charity case. The words echoed in the silence between them, unspoken but undeniable.Kael slipped into Combat Magic 101, keeping to the edge of the room. Professor Veyra, a formidable figure with silver hair braided with obsidian shards, stood at the front, her gaze sweeping over the students like a hawk searching for prey. "Ardent," she called, her voice sharp as chipped flint. "Demonstrate a basic Ignis spell."A ripple of whispers spread through the room. Kael felt eyes on him – curious, dismissive, some laced with open contempt. Darian Blackthorn slouched in his seat near the front, one leg crossed over the other, a smirk playing on his lips. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed dark hair, the gesture casual, almost bored. His family crest, a silver hawk clutching a lightning bolt, was subtly embroidered on his deep blue robes.Kael swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He could feel the pulse of magic in the room, a tangible energy that seemed to mock his own faltering attempts. He raised his hand, focusing on the candle at the room's center. He pictured the flickering flames, the warmth radiating outwards. "Ignis…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.Nothing happened. The candle wick remained stubbornly dark. Kael tried again, forcing the word out with more force. "Ignis!"Still nothing. A few snickers broke the silence. Darian chuckled, a low, condescending sound. "Some things just can't be taught," he drawled, barely bothering to lift a finger. The candle erupted in a burst of flame, the fire twisting and coiling into the shape of a miniature phoenix. The fiery bird circled the room once, emitting a shower of golden sparks, before settling on Darian's shoulder, its tiny eyes gleaming with reflected light. Darian stroked its head with a gloved finger, a picture of casual superiority. "Scholarship magic," he said, the words dripping with disdain. "At its finest."A wave of laughter swept through the room. Kael felt his face burn. Scholarship magic. The phrase echoed the dismissive tones he'd heard in the admissions office, the thinly veiled pity in the eyes of the officials who had granted him this "opportunity." "A rare chance for someone of your…background," they'd said, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air.Professor Veyra's sharp gaze settled on him, her obsidian eyes glinting. "Raw magic isn't enough, Mr. Ardent. Control it, or it will control you."Kael walked the academy's labyrinthine halls after class, shadows stretching like claws in the sunset. He passed classrooms where students conjured shimmering shields and hallways where enchanted brooms swept floors on their own. Magic thrummed in the air here, bright and effortless. For everyone but him.He ducked into the Starfall Library, its vaulted ceilings lost in a constellation of floating lanterns. Shelves groaned under ancient tomes, their spines etched with runes that pulsed faintly. Kael claimed his usual corner, dragging a crumbling book titled Dungeon Manifestations: Theory and Practice into the lamplight.Thump.A girl with riotous auburn curls dropped into the chair opposite him, scattering sugar-dusted pastries across the table. Lira Solwyn—he'd seen her in Alchemy, brewing potions that exploded in rainbow sparks."So," she said, nodding at the tome, "are you studying that dungeon or courting it?"Kael didn't look up. "Go away.""Nope!" She slid a pastry toward him. It smelled of cinnamon and rebellion. "You're Kael Ardent, right? The one who survived the Ember Hollow attack?"His quill stilled."I've read about it," she pressed, softer now. "They said no one made it out alive.""I did." The words scraped his throat raw.Lira leaned forward, her amber eyes reflecting the lantern light. "Then why are you hiding in here? Shouldn't you be…" She gestured vaguely. "Conquering things?""Why do you care?""Because," she said, plucking a sugar crystal from her pastry, "the real dungeon isn't in some book. It's under the academy. And I'm going to find it."Kael stared at her. "You're insane.""Probably!" She grinned. "Meet me here tomorrow night. Bring a dagger. And try not to die before then."She vanished in a rustle of crimson robes and the lingering scent of sugar and rebellion, leaving Kael alone with the book—and a prickling unease that the shadows between the towering shelves had deepened, stretching like grasping claws.The lanterns dimmed.Kael reached for his quill, but the air thickened, a faint hum building in his ears. When he looked down, the book wasn't the same.Dungeon Manifestations was gone. In its place lay a leather-bound journal, its cover streaked with something dark and flaking. "Nexus of Shadows" glared up at him in jagged script.No. This couldn't have been here before. He would have noticed. The book radiated an unnatural stillness, a silence that seemed to hum beneath his fingertips.He flipped it open. Sketches of monstrous creatures filled the pages—beasts with too many eyes, forests of bone, a towering obsidian gate. And on the last page, a symbol: a circle split by a jagged line.The same symbol from his dreams.The pages smelled of ash and something metallic, like blood. The air around him hummed faintly, as if the book itself were alive."You're late," hissed a metallic voice, accompanied by the faint scrape of metal on stone.Kael slammed the book shut. His hands shook.He snapped his head up, his heart pounding against his ribs. The library was deserted. The lanterns had flickered and died, plunging the room into shadow, save for the stark moonlight that streamed through the stained-glass windows. The light fell upon the wall behind him, illuminating the symbol—the circle split by a jagged line—glowing with an eerie, internal light, pulsing like a living heart.