Arc One: The Girl Beneath the Prophecy --- The first seal broke on the night Lira learned that the stars could bleed. She was seventeen years old when the sky turned red. At first, she thought it was a trick of the evening light. The sun had already disappeared behind the western mountains, leaving the kingdom of Aetheria beneath a violet twilight. From the balcony of her bedroom, she could see the distant towers of the capital glowing with golden enchantments, their spires piercing the clouds like spears aimed at heaven. Beyond the city walls, seven enormous crystal pillars stood upon the surrounding mountains. The Seven Seals. Every child in Aetheria knew their names. Every priest prayed to them. Every ruler swore an oath to protect them. For thousands of years, the seals had held back something that existed before the birth of the world. Something the ancient scriptures called the World Eater. Lira had never given the stories much thought. They belonged to his

Arc One: The Girl Beneath the Prophecy The staircase seemed to have no end. Lira followed Seraphine through the darkness, one hand gripping the silver pendant around her neck and the other trailing along the damp stone wall. Each step descended farther beneath the abandoned shrine, carrying them away from the bells, the royal hunters, and the life Lira had known. The air grew colder. Ancient symbols covered the walls. Some glowed faintly as Seraphine passed, illuminating fragments of inscriptions written in a language Lira had never seen. Others remained dark, their surfaces scratched and broken as though someone had desperately tried to erase them. Lira stopped beside one inscription. It depicted seven figures kneeling before a woman whose face had been deliberately destroyed. Beneath them, a black sun hung over a burning city. "What happened here?" Lira asked. Seraphine continued walking. "History." "That doesn't answer my question." "It is the only answer I can safely

The eastern residence of Aetherion Academy had been built for students who required special supervision.That was what Professor Malrec told them.Lira suspected the truth was considerably uglier.The residence stood apart from the academy's other buildings, separated from the nearest dormitory by a narrow bridge suspended over a bottomless-looking ravine. Black stone walls rose three stories high, their surfaces engraved with silver runes that shifted whenever she looked directly at them. Tall windows overlooked the lake, but no curtains hung inside them. Every room was visible from the courtyard if someone cared enough to look.And there were guards.Six stood at the entrance. Four more patrolled the bridge. Lira had counted eleven magical barriers between the front door and her assigned bedroom.The twelfth was hidden in the floor beneath her bed.She knew because it had awakened when she stepped into the room.A circle of blue light flashed beneath her boots before vanishing benea

lThe first thing Kael learned about training at Aetherion Academy was that sleep was apparently optional.The second was that Professor Malrec considered breakfast a privilege rather than a necessity.At precisely five o'clock in the morning, three sharp knocks struck Kael's door."Up."Kael opened one eye.The room remained dark. Outside his window, the sky was a deep, colourless grey, and the academy's towers stood like enormous shadows against the dawn.He pulled his blanket over his head.Another knock sounded."Kael Veyne.""I'm dead.""Then you will find the morning exercise particularly appropriate."Kael sighed.He had survived a Rift Hound, an encounter with an ancient entity, and a vision in which the girl he had just met appeared to destroy the world. Yet somehow, the thought of getting out of bed was the most exhausting challenge he had faced.He sat up.The mark on his wrist glimmered faintly beneath the sleeve of his sleeping shirt.For a moment, he stared at it.The mem

The door slammed shut. The sound rolled through the underground chamber like the final stroke of a funeral bell. For several seconds, nobody moved. At the bottom of the staircase, two violet eyes watched them from the darkness. Then came the voice. “Come home, my children.” Lira stopped breathing. It was her mother's voice. Not an imitation that sounded almost right. Not the distorted echo that had spoken through her bedroom mirror. This voice carried the same gentle warmth Lira remembered from childhood—the slight tremble when her mother was tired, the soft rise at the end of a sentence, the tenderness that had once made the world feel safe. Lira could almost smell the lavender oil her mother used to rub into her hair before bed. She could almost feel the familiar hands brushing her forehead. “Mother?” she whispered. Kael caught her wrist. “Lira, don't.” She barely heard him. At the bottom of the staircase, the violet eyes blinked. “My little girl,” the voice called.