The Council’s decision was swift. By dawn, runners spread the announcement through every corridor of the Academy.Mordaine Carrowell would face a Trial.Not a punishment, not officially. A “measure of loyalty,” they called it. A test. But everyone knew the truth if he failed, it would brand him a traitor forever.He walked through the main courtyard under dozens of eyes. Conversations stilled when he passed, whispers swelling in his wake.“Carrowell, the Shadow’s Heir.”“They say the rift spoke through him.”“Why hasn’t he been expelled?”Elara kept pace beside him, face pale with fury. “They’re treating you like some… some curse. It’s not fair.”Mordaine forced a smile, though it felt like stone on his face. “Fair doesn’t matter. Passing their trial does.”A sharp laugh came from the fountain steps. Two figures leaned there, waiting. One, a tall boy with silver-blond hair tied back, his uniform pristine. The other, a dark-skinned girl with braids wrapped in copper wire, her arms mark

The fire in Mordaine’s shoulder pulsed with every heartbeat, but the worst pain gnawed in his chest,the memory of that voice, soft as ash, calling him son.Elara sat close, hands glowing faintly green as she poured healing magic into the wound. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “You’re lucky. A few inches deeper and you wouldn’t be breathing.”Mordaine forced a weak grin. “So what you’re saying is I’m charmed.”“Don’t joke.” Her voice cracked, though her hands never faltered. “You almost died.”Across the campfire, Cailen sharpened his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. His golden eyes flicked toward Mordaine. “Almost isn’t good enough. Next time, he won’t miss.”Mordaine met his glare, fire stirring faintly in his eyes. “I didn’t let him stab me.”“No you froze,” Cailen snapped. “You heard something, didn’t you? Some lie meant to break your focus.”Elara’s head snapped up. “Cailen”“He’s right.” Mordaine’s voice was hoarse, but steady. His gaze lingered on the flames. “I… I heard my mo

The cavern groaned like a beast asleep beneath the earth. From the ceiling dripped slow rivulets of molten rock, each hiss swallowed by the roar of the Rift-pit at its center. Green fire surged upward in bursts, clawing at the air, before collapsing into itself with a sound like thunder in reverse. The heat was suffocating, yet the cultists did not flinch. They pressed their foreheads to the stone floor, the ash smeared across their masks crumbling with each fervent chant.“Karash’tar… Karash’tar… Karash’tar…”The name rolled like waves through the cavern, vibrating bones, resonating with the very walls.At the center stood the leader of the Ashen Conclave. His robes were torn, his left hand wrapped in thick bandages where Mordaine’s fire had seared him. Pain twisted his features beneath the mask, yet his eyes burned with something stronger than agony,zeal, obsession and triumph.He raised the black dagger, its blade etched with runes that bled shadow instead of light. The chanting st

The night swallowed everything.Branches clawed at their arms and faces as the four of them tore through the forest, every breath ragged, every step thunderous in the silence between roars. The Harbinger was behind them,its shriek a sound so deep it rattled bones and curdled blood. The earth quaked with each step it took, shadows writhing at its heels.Kaelen’s voice cut through the chaos first, low and sharp. “Faster. Don’t look back.”“Don’t tell me what I already know!” Lyra snapped, her silver hair slick with sweat and blood. Her blade caught moonlight as she hacked through a tangle of underbrush. Despite the gash on her arm, she pressed forward, refusing to falter.Arden stumbled, clutching at his side, his breath shallow. Mordaine caught him by the sleeve and yanked him upright. “You’re not falling here,” Mordaine growled. His voice cracked with exhaustion, but determination burned in his eyes.Behind them, the Harbinger roared again. The sound wasn’t just noise,it was force. Th

The fire they had built was nearly out, but no one moved to feed it. The smoke from Mordaine’s blaze still lingered in the ravine, acrid and sharp, curling like ghosts between the rocks.Kaelen leaned back against the wall, tossing a dagger from hand to hand. “Well, that was fun. Nightmares crawling out of the dirt, voices whispering doom, our precious ember-boy nearly cracking in two.” He smirked without humor. “I’d say it’s been a productive evening.”“Shut it,” Lyra snapped, glaring at him. “You saw what it did to him. Mocking won’t help.”Kaelen tilted his head lazily toward Mordaine. “Maybe not. But pretending he’s fine won’t either.”Mordaine sat apart from them, knees drawn up, flames still twitching at his fingertips like restless serpents. He didn’t meet their eyes. “They weren’t just voices. They knew things… about me, about what I am.”Arden rubbed his temple, his usually steady hands trembling. “That’s what worries me. Whispers like that don’t come from chance echoes. Some