The morning sun shone brightly over Argent Academy. Light spilled through the high towers and golden windows of the ancient magic school. The air smelled of fresh parchment, chalk dust, and blooming ironroot flowers. Students in white and blue robes moved across the stone pathways, laughing and chatting as they headed to their classes.Nobody looked at Mason and Mason liked it that way.He kept his hood low over his face and his bag close to his side. His shoes made no sound as he walked. To everyone else, he was just another nobody. Invisible. Forgettable.Just the way he’d always been. That peace, however, didn’t last.“Mason!” a voice shouted from behind him. “Where the hell were you last night?”Mason winced. He didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Tony. Loud, fast-talking, always in trouble. And walking beside him, silent and cold as ever, was Aurora, arms folded, her sharp eyes already scanning Mason like he was a locked box she meant to pry open.Mason forced a

By the time Mason returned to Argent Academy, the sun was almost gone. The sky was painted with orange and purple, like fire and bruises mixed together. The buildings looked taller than usual, their shadows stretching across the stone courtyard like long black fingers.Mason didn’t walk on the main path. He kept to the side, near the walls and behind pillars. His dark cloak was torn and burned around the edges. Gray ash clung to his boots. Every step he took left faint prints behind.He didn’t stop. He didn’t speak to anyone. Most students were already in their dorms or the dining hall. No one saw him sneak through the side paths. That was good.In the small leather satchel across his shoulder, something pulsed softly. A red glow peeked through the flap. It was warm. Alive. It was the Ember Heart, a magical thing full of dangerous power. A treasure people would kill to have.Mason kept one hand on the bag at all times. Not because he thought someone might steal it… but because it move

The world spun all around Mason. The bell tower vanished like smoke. The stones under his feet turned soft, like melting wax. Then they changed into mist. Everything around him started to stretch and pull apart.Mason felt like he was falling, not just through the air, but through light and darkness. Wind rushed past him, but it wasn’t real wind. It was colder than ice. It made his skin crawl. It felt… ancient, like something that had been waiting for him for a very long time.He screamed. But his voice was stolen by the strange wind. He held onto the Ember Heart tightly. It burned hot in his hands, glowing and pulsing. Thump. Thump. Thump. It beat just like his heart, fast and scared.Then, bam!He slammed hard into something solid. It knocked all the air out of his lungs. For a second, he couldn’t move.Then his suit came to life. It pushed against the ground and helped him roll to his feet. The suit moved faster than he did. It protected him.He gasped for breath and looked aroun

The cell was cold. Not the kind of cold that faded with a breath or a flicker of flame.It was ancient cold. Deep. The kind that settled in bones and made time feel slower. The walls whispered, faint voices of those who’d come before. Prisoners. Traitors. Monsters.Or, in Mason's case, something not yet defined.Across the cell, Edgar sat quietly, cross-legged on a faded patch of straw. A soft hum pulsed from the chains binding his ankles, anti-casting runes, old and flickering, but still potent.Mason had tested his own shackles earlier. He’d tried channeling a simple spark, just enough to warm his fingers.Nothing. The glyphs had held. And the suit was silent. No hum. No whisper. No help.Just him, the cold, and the cursed warlock watching from across the bars.“So,” Edgar finally said, scratching at his beard. “How much do you think they know?”Mason looked up. “Too much.”“And how much did you tell them?”“I didn’t have to. I… panicked. Broke the orb.”Edgar barked a sharp laugh.

The dagger still pulsed in Mason’s grip. Each throb sent a ripple of heat up his arm, like something alive had embedded itself into his veins. He stared at the blade. It no longer looked like forged metal, it shimmered, a dark sheen rippling just beneath the surface, like oil sliding over water. The crimson runes on its hilt glowed faintly in the gloom. Aurora took a cautious step forward. “What just happened?”Mason rose to his feet slowly, still gripping the blade. “I think… it bonded to me.”She studied him. “You mean like the suit?”He nodded. “Yeah. Like the suit.”The dagger pulsed again. The roots around the stone altar began to move.“Nope,” Aurora said. “I don’t like that.”The roots groaned, stretching, slithering back like serpents. The pedestal cracked. The air thickened with pressure.Then the trees screamed. Not like animals. Like people.High, shrill wails echoed through the Whispering Woods. Mason grabbed Aurora’s arm and pulled her back as the clearing around them b