The second day began with a warning. “The central sections are less stable than the outer ruins,” Professor Valenna announced as the teams gathered at the entrance. “Stay alert. Report anything unusual immediately. Do not touch anything you don’t understand.” Her eyes swept the assembled students, lingering on Aren for a moment before moving on. Aren noted the warning but said nothing. The team entered the ruins and made their way toward the central section—a cluster of partially collapsed structures arranged in a circular pattern. The stones here were different from the outer ruins. Darker. Heavier. The carvings were denser, more intricate, as if the builders had poured more of themselves into these walls. Aren recognized the pattern. Defensive array, he thought. Old design. Very old. He didn’t speak. He simply noted the positions of the pillars, the angles of the carvings, the faint residue of magic that clung to the stones. He hoped it wouldn’t matter. They spread out to

The team returned to the Academy in silence. Valenna’s words echoed in Aren’s mind—I’ve seen it before, in texts about the Demon Emperor. She hadn’t pressed further. She’d simply watched them leave, her journal clutched in her hand, her expression unreadable. No one spoke about it. Not on the walk back. Not when they parted at the dormitories. Not when Aren lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The mural. The crimson-eyed figure. The seal. She knows something, he thought. But how much? He would deal with Valenna later. For now, there was the festival. The Academy Festival was announced the next morning. The campus transformed overnight. Banners of every color hung from the buildings. Food stalls appeared in the courtyards. Stages were erected for performances and competitions. The air smelled of roasted meat, sweet pastries, and the faint ozone of magical displays. Students rushed through the grounds with excited energy, their voices bright and loud. For a few days, the Ac

The festival grounds were chaos. Students fled in every direction, their screams echoing through the night. Faculty members shouted orders, trying to restore order. The attackers moved through the crowd with purpose—masked figures wielding blades and magic, hunting demon-blooded students. Aren moved through the darkness. He’d left Sera behind the barrier, safe. He’d told Seraphina to get the students to safety. Now he was hunting. The attackers were organized. Coordinated. They moved in groups, covering each other, retreating when pressed. Professionals. But they weren’t prepared for him. He intercepted a group near the eastern edge of the grounds—three attackers cornering a demon-blooded student against a wall. Aren didn’t slow down. He simply moved through them, his hands striking pressure points with surgical precision. They collapsed before they knew what hit them. He kept moving. Across the grounds, others were fighting too. Professor Thorne led a contingent of combat i

The lockdown continued into its second week. The Academy was a different place now. The festival banners had been taken down. The food stalls were gone. The stages where students had performed stood empty, their silence a reminder of what had happened. Patrols moved through the corridors at all hours—guards, faculty, even some upperclassmen conscripted to help. Students walked in groups, their eyes wary, their voices low. Fear had settled over the campus like a shroud. Aren observed it all. The anti-demon sentiment had gotten worse. It started with whispers—students muttering in corners, their eyes following demon-blooded classmates through the halls. Then it became open hostility. Books knocked from hands. Insults muttered just loud enough to be heard. Shoulders shoved in crowded corridors. The Academy condemned the harassment. Headmaster Vex made a statement about unity and tolerance. But nothing changed. The harassment continued. Sera Lucifuge was among those target

Three days had passed since Millbrook. Aren had waited—making sure Cael was settled, making sure no one was watching, making sure the time was right. The second shadow message had arrived the night of their return, waiting in his dormitory like a patient ghost. The city beyond the eastern gate. The old quarter. The door with my sigil. Come when you can. —V He’d memorized the directions. Burned the message. Waited. Now, it was time. Aren didn’t sneak through gates or avoid guards. He simply teleported. The transition was instant—one moment he was standing in his dormitory, the next he was in a narrow alley in the city’s old quarter. The air smelled of old stone and forgotten things. Shadows pooled deep around him. He stepped out of the alley and into the city. The city sprawled beyond the Academy walls—a settlement that had grown organically over centuries, wrapping around the school like a living thing. Taverns still glowed with light. Merchants had closed their st