The last thing Kael Draven remembered was the sword’s edge biting down. It didn’t stab into his chest, though it drove through his hand, pinning him to the dirt. They wanted to make sure no one said the demon prince died a coward. Malakar’s soldiers circled the courtyard, torches dancing in the wind. Somewhere in the mob, Kael’s father was there, watching calmly as his son bled out. No flinch. No mercy. Kael had ended a war that nearly wiped out two kingdoms, and for that, he got chains, a blade, and a lie set to echo for three hundred years.Someone will know the truth, he promised himself as everything went dark. Even if it takes forever.Turns out, forever was exactly three centuries.I shot awake, fighting for air. Always a weird feeling, coming back. Usually my memories would chop out before I’d have the pleasure of actually feeling my heart beat again.“You’re up early,” someone said from the doorway. My fist almost went straight through the wall before my mind caught up. Not a

The vault smelled like cold iron and old magic the kind that never really fades. It just waits. Sorren moved ahead, the sound of her boots echoing off the stone floor. Not many people came through here, that much was obvious. Shelves crowded every wall, stacked with relics I couldn’t name. Most of them sat behind glass or were wrapped up with heavy, warded chains. I spotted exactly one thing I recognized. And it had just moved.“This section holds items confiscated during the war,” Sorren said, keeping her stride casual, like she’d walked these aisles a thousand times already. “Cursed weapons, unstable artifacts... things the Alliance decided were too dangerous to destroy but even worse to use.” She stopped at a display case tucked at the back. I had to force myself not to drift closer on instinct. “This is why I brought you here.”A single sword rested inside. It looked obnoxiously plain: no jewels, no marks, the edge dulled by centuries in the dark. But the feel of that hilt was bur

The announcement about the exchange student happened during morning assembly. For once, it was strange enough to make me actually pay attention.The headmaster stood up, speaking in that dry, robotic tone he always used for big political news nobody really believed. “As part of the goodwill accords between the Alliance and the southern demon territories,” he droned, “Eclipse Academy welcomes its first demon-blood student under the Concord Exchange Program.” He let that hang for a second. “Please extend the same courtesy you would to any first-year.”If you listened to the low chatter spreading across the room, nobody was thinking about courtesy.She walked out onto the dais alone, and every single head turned even if nobody wanted to admit it. The room got quiet, that weird, awkward silence when everyone’s pretending not to stare but can’t help themselves. Her hair was dark, collarbones sharp, and she stood like someone who’d mapped every exit in her head. Her eyes scanned the crowd,

They posted the sparring matches on the hall board before breakfast, and as soon as I saw the line-up, I had a bad feeling. Ashe, R. vs. Ashgrave, C. Real subtle. Maybe someone was having a laugh, or maybe it was just spite except by second bell, I learned Corvin asked for the match himself.“Just wanted to see it for myself,” he told me when I found him in the sparring hall. His sleeves were rolled up, training blade balanced on his shoulder like he’d been born holding it. Half the academy packed in to watch, crowding the rails above the practice floor this wasn’t about a grade. “Beata Sorren’s new little favorite. The F-rank who thinks she’s rewriting war doctrine in front of everyone.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s see if the crystal got anything else wrong about you.”“I’d really rather not,” I said. A few people up above laughed.He tossed a second blade to my feet, the steel clattering against the stone. “Pick it up. Or don’t. I’ll still win, and everyone will

This time, the summons landed in my hands through official channels. Someone slid a notice under my door, the academy seal pressed deep into the wax. They said my Combat Theory standing would be tested by a Graded Exhibition Duel, first thing in the morning. My opponent? They’d tell me once the match started.I didn’t bother to guess who was behind this. Only one office could schedule an exhibition outside the normal rotation, and honestly, only a few people cared enough to push this through before Sorren or anyone else could argue.Sorren found me in the corridor before I even started looking for her. She grabbed my arm tighter than anyone with “professional concern” usually would.“This wasn’t run through me,” she said, voice low, tense. “I checked. It came straight out of the Dean’s office, sponsored.” She didn’t drop a name, but her eyes darted toward the noble wing. I saw a house crest I was starting to recognize.“Exhibition duels aren’t just pass-fail, Mr. Ashe. They’re graded